The man bent closer. “His face is scarred. He’ll need paint.” He turned to Rio. “Clowns?”
Rio shook his head. “No space left on our floor. Others might complain.”
“Freaks, then.” The man laughed and tapped his stick against the wooden boards. “When he heals, take him to the attic.”
When he left, Rio leaned down and said in his low voice. “Clowns have been disappearing for the past two weeks. You’ll be safer with the freaks. And not a word to the Croatian. We don’t trust him.”
I nodded. My throat still refused to work, and pain spread evenly through every part of me. I didn’t know what to think, or if I even could anymore. I had thought life at home was miserable. But this place was worse.
The House of Clowns would eat my mind and soul. And I would not be the only one it swallowed.
Present day
She came inside the house, shutting the lights off one by one until only a single bulb stayed on. It flickered three times, like a signal. I don’t know why she did it or who she was signaling to, but it was for sure a dumb move, as now I knew exactly where she was.
“Bingo, Doll,” I chuckled. “I know where you are.”
No one else was around. Her house sat farther back from the street than the others, swallowed by the trees that surrounded it. I moved closer. I had done this before. I already knew the perfect way in.
The roses climbed a wooden trellis that reached up to the second floor, their branches thick enough to hold my weight.The window in the hallway never closed properly. I would slip through there, and her brothers were never home, which made her even more vulnerable. Perfect for someone like me.
“Let’s play, Doll,” I said, staring up at the window.
My left foot found the wooden trellis, and I climbed until I reached the second floor. The edge creaked under my weight as I lifted the glass and slid inside. I heard her footsteps below. She was walking, frantic, pacing back and forth.
I rolled my eyes.
Should I tell her I’m here? Save her step count, or let her stay scared?
Fuck it. Let her be scared. A racing heart only makes me harder.
“Oh, Dolly,” I called out, my voice lilting. “Where are you?”
Her footsteps sped up.
“I want to play,” I said, quieter now. “Do you want to play with me?”
A door slammed downstairs.
“You’re no fun,” I muttered, moving fast down the stairs toward the sound.
I knocked twice. “Doll,” I whispered. “I can hear you.”
Her breathing came heavy through the door.
“Oh, Dolly, I can see you,” I said as I leaned forward, peering through the keyhole.
She screamed.
The doorknob turned beneath my hand. The door gave way, swinging open. She was pressed against the wall, her wide eyes locked on me. Fear painted her face.
“What do you want?” she whispered, voice trembling.
A slow smirk spread across my lips. I leaned against the frame, watching her.
“You.”
1. I am Branimir, from Croatia.
