Page 32 of House of Clowns

"Ruby," he replied, his voice icy casual. "She brought it to me. Read a few pages, and wanted in."

My fists clenched. "Is she... gone now?"

"Yeah," he said, cold and unfaltering.

"You monster," I exclaimed, starting up with such rapidity that my chair scraped away upon the floor; but his voice cut through the room, keen and clear as a blade.

"Sit down." The command seemed to go through me like an electric shock, and I dropped back into the chair, my body rigid from feet to crown.

"She knew too much," he growled low. "And now, so do you. But you have something she didn't—a gift."

"What do you want?" I demanded, my lip curling in disgust as I held his gaze with a defiant glare.

A twisted smile oozed across his face. "You're going to make them dream." He hitched forward with the glint in his eye darker. "I'll introduce you at their carnival as a special guest, and you'll trap them in a dream within a dream."

"So they'll be stuck forever?" I returned, the horror settling deep into my chest.

"Only those who matter to them," he returned, his voice cold as steel. "It will keep them occupied, while I kill every last one of them."

"No," I said, my voice rising.

He stood, slamming his fist upon the desk, making the room shudder. "They took your mother! They tortured her, drowned her, and buried her in the basement of Lotta's house. Don't you want them to pay?!"

I heard my pulse hammering in my ears, my breath was thin and the walls seemed to close in. I felt a scream in my throat. But only tears came, tracing hot lines down my face. His words burrowed into me, settling with a finality that couldn't be denied.

Mom was really gone.

He had said, "Hypno will help you," and his voice was lighter, mocking almost. "You can find him in the main tent."

I stood, my legs unsteady, trying to pull together, but every step seemed a weight dragging me down. Everything around me faded as I climbed the stairs and my breathing came in short gasps. I was hollow, my heart cracking under the weight of what I'd just learned. I wanted to disappear, to slip into some dark corner where no one would find me, where I could pretend that none of this was real. But reality had sunk its teeth in, and there was no getting away from it anymore.

I dragged myself upstairs to the bedroom somehow. Half an hour had slid behind my back, and with every push of my hand, the door creaked, swinging open to meet the silence like an old, heavy shadow. Dhalia deserved to know it all—the truth and all its horrifying details—but I couldn't bring myself to involve her in that. Keeping her out was the only assurance I knew to keep her safe.

I approached the bed, and there was a single red rose lying, waiting upon the pillow, its red petals stark against the sheets, and a note tucked beside it. My breath hitched as I whispered, "Rio," reaching for it with trembling fingers.

I unfolded the paper, and his words hit me like a wound.

"Don't wait for me, myBambolina. I won't be here for quite some time."

What do you mean?I wanted to scream, to beg for some explanation that would somehow ease the weight, yet there wasonly an empty room and the rose's sweet scent entwined with my tears. I fell onto the bed, and laid the rose on the pillow beside me, curling up beside it as if somehow it might fill the spot he had left.

There is a love that makes you cry, a love that makes you smile, but the love that makes you wait—that's the most dangerous of all. For you never know whether it's worth waiting for, whether that person shall ever come back, or whether time will take them further and further away. It was cruel, paying with a heart.

Even finding someone else, his ghost will always be there, a question never to be answered, a memory interwoven in every step forward. And telling me not to wait only broke me more because now I would always wonder:What could have been? What would we have been if I hadn't let him go?I did not know whether this love was a blessing or a curse; either way, it would tear me apart.

6 Months After

It’s been six months—six long months without seeing him. By that time, the leaves changed from yellow to green, and the grass outside was no longer dry but tall and lush. Flowers are in full bloom, and winter has given way to spring, yet my heart still wonders where he is and if he will come back.

I thought of him every single night as I fell asleep, I thought of him when I saw couples kissing, and I thought of him each time I stepped into the house of clowns. It’s the worst feeling ever, buried deep within my skin, feeling unwanted by the only person I desire.

Call it love, call it a crush, call it possession; it’s all the same when your heart dictates how you exist. And I chose to pretend.

I smiled at people, pretending to be happy every time I stepped outside. I feigned listening while my mind drifted away. I acted as if I cared while slowly dying inside, and I pretended he was still around, by my side.

I call thisthe curse of a broken heart.

I had found new friends here, friends who showed me the way to dance in the sky, to live in ways I never had imagined. I had learned to dream while awake, to slip quietly into other minds—a skill which fascinated Hypno more, very probably, than he cared to admit to. I knew he was nursing a quiet crush—not on me, precisely, but on the way my mind worked, how I could slip in and out of people's thoughts. But I also knew that no matter how close I became with anyone, even another clown, my heart wasn't something I could give anymore.

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