Someone was behind me.
A gloved hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. The smell hit me next. Sweetness threaded with cologne gone sour. I dragged my eyes up and met the smile I prayed I wouldn’t see again.
The Ringmaster.
“Quiet now, Poppet,” he crooned, close enough that his breath grazed my cheek. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”
I struggled to get away, twisting and thrashing this way and that, but it did no good. He was bigger and much stronger. He easily held me back against him while slipping his hand into his coat. My eyes widened when he pulled out a needle.
Fighting was doing no good, so I did the only thing I could. I cried and begged him to leave me alone. His hand muffled all my pleas, but I begged him, nonetheless.
Amusement flashed through his dark eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of needles?”
Would he stop if I were?
“A needle hurts a lot less than a razor blade.”
What? Did he know? No, he couldn’t. Wait… Did that mean he was going to kill me? What was in that needle?
“Don’t worry, Poppet. It wouldn’t be any fun killing you.”
I screamed as he stabbed the needle in my neck. The world tilted fast, causing the walls to bend like paper while my knees buckled.
His deep voice followed me down into the dark.
“You’re already dead.”
December 31, 3:47 am
When my eyes flew open, they were immediately stung by the bright light flooding the room. For a second, I thought everything I experienced was another nightmare. That night had passed, and I’d woken up to the sun shining in.
Until I tried to lift my hand to shield my vision.
My arms wouldn’t move. They were stopped by something around my wrists. The same restricting force was around my ankles as well, tying me down to what felt like a chair.
I wasn’t in room 237. Everything that happened was real. The Mime, the Ringmaster. The needle… It sounded like a bad joke. I couldn’t help but snort out a snicker. Of course, I would get kidnapped by some reject circus act.
This was the point where I should be freaking out, but I could barely think, let alone move. There was a fog clouding my thoughts and an awful taste in my mouth.
My lips smacked together, trying to chase it away while my head lolled forward, too heavy for my neck.
Whatever drug they’d used was still in my system, even after my eyes adjusted. It took a minute for things to waver into focus as if everything hid behind a sheet of water, or I was trapped in a dream. It certainly looked like a dream.
My eyes trickled over the ballroom that stretched out around me. Crystal chandeliers swayed low, dripping jaundiced light across warped floorboards. The air reeked of polish gone sour mixed with the faint copper tang of blood. Shadows clung high above, so dense that the ceiling seemed to dissolve into blackness.
“Where am I?” My tongue was too lazy to work properly, causing my words to sound sluggish, not that I thought anyone would answer. And if they did, it wouldn’t be someone I wanted to talk to.
My head once again fell forward, dropping my stare to the floor.
Once upon a time, it was probably beautiful. Polished parquet or maple, maybe? Now the boards had dulled toa grey except for the places where dark stains had seeped into the wood grain. Like the patch of wood directly under my bare feet. Itdidn’t take a genius to figure out what had caused that stain. A fingernail remained stuck in the wood.
Well, that’s not good.
I thought back to the scratches I’d seen in the banister. Was it the same person? Hopefully, she was wearing fake nails. Otherwise, that would’ve really hurt.
That was an odd thought to have. I should be scared, not thinking about fake nails.
Come on, Mazie, you need to focus.
