She cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What do you want from me?”
I moved the knife from her face and traced it down to her chest. Her breath came fast and shallow, her heart pounded so hard I could feel it through the blade.
“You’ll find out,” I said.
I didn’t move. I just watched her. She didn’t waste a second. She scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the wall where hung a plastic, yellowed old phone, its cord twisted into knots below. Her fingers trembled as she dialed, her breath coming fast.
When she turned her back, I moved into the hallway, pressing flat against the wall just behind her.
For a heartbeat, I thought she was calling the cops. Then Iheard her voice crack.
“Rocco?”
A pause.
“Dad?”
Dad? Rocco was her father?
A year before
The attic door slammed behind me, and as I turned, my heart was beating fast in my chest. The narrow staircase was leading higher. I climbed five steps, and as I reached the top, I noticed five small beds, each divided by a short white curtain.
Freaks.That’s what they call them. What they call me too.
But as I looked around, all I saw were people. Maybe a little different, maybe a little unwanted, trying to make this place feel like home. But even here, in the House of Clowns, they were still treated like shit just because they were different.
In the corner, there was a short woman in a red dress sitting in front of a cracked mirror. She brushed the long, soft beard that flowed past her chest.
On the next bed, a woman with blonde curls and a pink ribbon perched on her head was knitting. She had six arms. Two of her hands worked the needles while another pair propped her up, and two more rested beside her.
A man with two heads sat in the corner of the room, with both his faces bent over reading a book. Across from him sat a woman with her legs bound tightly together. For a moment, I thought Isaw her skin shimmering faintly under the lamplight as if hiding scales beneath.
People in the world only dared to look under a tent.
I reached the top of the stairs, and their gaze fell on me, scanning me from head to toe.
“You’re not like us,” the woman with the pink ribbon said.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” the two-headed man added, lowering his book.
I met their stares and crossed to the empty bed. Sitting down, I felt the wood creak beneath me.
“Maybe,” I said, “ Maybe, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
VI. DOLL
Iheldthephonehandle tight between my fingers, afraid he would take it from me. But he left. I couldn’t see him anymore. All that was left were drops of blood leading toward the hallway.
Who is he? What does he want from me?
“Chiara?” I could hear Rocco’s voice through the phone, but my mind was still on the man from before. My heart was racing, still searching for him, for those ice-blue eyes that looked too much like Rio’s.
For a second, I almost gave in.
“Chiara?” Rocco said again.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I... someone is in the house.”
