“Chiara.” It was Carlo’s voice. “Can you pick me up?”
I blinked, surprised he was even calling. Lately, he and Cristian came and went like ghosts, barely saying a word.And who was I to question them?Ever since I came back from the House of Clowns, all they did was judge me. I didn’t want to add more oil to the fire.
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Where are you?”
“Carnival.”
I sighed. “Stay there. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Of all places he could have gone, he chose the one he swore he would never set foot in again.
I rushed back into the bedroom, the door slamming behind me by accident.
Opening the closet, I grabbed a clean pair of pale blue jeans and a black shirt. I stumbled while pulling the jeans on, nearly falling onto the bed before zipping them. I slid into myConverseand headed for the door.
The Carnival was only about eight minutes away, just behind the city. Right next to the House of Clowns. And the cemetery I had walked past last night.
I hated every inch of this place, but I had nowhere else to go.
I pulled the front door shut behind me and started walking. I didn’t even bother locking it. People here trusted each other too much, or maybe not at all. Just enough not to lock their doors. I guess that was normal in small towns where everyone knew everyone’s sins anyway.
The path cut through the first stretch of woods. The sun was already high, warm on my skin even this early. As I walked, the faint sound of music reached me. The Carnival’s song.
It pulled me back when I was part of it all, when it almost felt like home.
I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to be part of it again.
I saw him, Carlo, standing in front of the tent. Two clowns stood behind him. I didn’t recognize them. Faces change, even behind paint. A year can do that.
I approached them slowly, my eyes on Carlo, his arms crossed tight over his chest, their expression unreadable.
“Are you Chiara, his sister?” one of them asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s me.”
“He owes us three hundred euros. He stole tickets and resold them to kids,” the other one said. “Either pay us, or we are calling the police.”
1“Cazzo,”I muttered. “I don’t have that kind of money here, but I can call Rocco and figure something out?”
“Rocco isn’t the boss here anymore,” he said. “If you don’t have the money, you’ll have to work for it.”
He shoved Carlo forward, gripping his shoulder. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, a voice behind me shouted, “What the fuck is going on?”
I froze. That voice. Too familiar.
A man brushed past me, his eyes dragging over me from head to toe.
It washim.The man from last night.
My blood turned cold at his touch. I couldn’t look at him. My gaze dropped to the ground, my throat too tight to speak.
“I asked a question,” he said again, standing right in front of me.
“Her brother stole three hundred euros’ worth of tickets, and they don’t have the money to pay us back,” one of the clowns said.
The man stepped closer, just an inch away. His breath brushed my cheek as he leaned in, whispering against my ear. “Are you following me, Doll?”
I shook my head, but my body betrayed me. His whisper sent goosebumps crawling up my skin.
