Page 10 of The Knucklebone Brothers

I waited, my breath held tight in my chest. And then I heard it. The same heavy, deliberate footsteps from before, crunching on the gravel outside, getting closer.

Then I heard more steps, heavier this time. Great. Both of them were coming this way.

The Clown Mask walked in first, his painted grin as wide as ever. Right behind him, the Burlap Mask shuffled in, his large frame blocking the light. In his hands, he held a rusty metal bucket, the kind you'd use for feed or slop. He set it down in the middle of the cage floor with a loud clang.

I looked from the bucket to their masked faces, and I laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was a bitter, disbelieving sound. "I'm not pissing in that," I said, my voice dripping with scorn. "I know y'all have a bathroom."

The Clown Mask chuckled, a low, amused sound. "Now, Aurora, we been over this. Freedom is earned. We don't trust you yet. Not to be alone, not to wander. You'll be fine."

They just stood there, watching me. Waiting. My bladder was screaming. With a frustrated sigh, I pushed myself up, the chains rattling. I went to pull my pants down, then I turned my back to them, trying to salvage a sliver of dignity. I started to squat, but then I felt a pair of eyes on me. I glanced over my shoulder. The Clown Mask was slowly shaking his head, a silent, mocking gesture. The Burlap Mask crossed his massive arms over his chest, his stance making it clear he wasn't going anywhere.

"Whatever," I muttered, stumbling a little as I tried to get situated over the bucket without falling on my ass.

The Clown Mask stepped forward, his hands reaching out to steady my hips. "Here now, let's help the lady," he chirped.

I swatted at his hands, trying to push him away. "Get the fuck off me!"

He swatted back, his hand landing on my ass with a sharp, stinging smack that made me yelp. He held on, his grip firm, helping me balance until I was finally positioned over the bucket. The sound of my own piss hitting the metal was loud and humiliating in the quiet wagon. They watched me, their gazes heavy and intense, and I tried to ignore them, staring at the wall, my face burning with irritation.

When I was done, the Burlap Mask ripped a few squares of toilet paper from a roll and held it out to me. I snatched it from his hand, my movements clumsy with the cuffs. I struggled to wipe, my arms still chained, the whole process a fresh nightmare of indignity.

"I can help with that if you'd like," the Clown Mask offered, his voice laced with sickeningly sweet amusement.

"Eat shit," I snarled.

Finally, they helped me stand up. The Burlap Mask grabbed the bucket, and without another word, they both turned and left. The smell of my own urine is a fresh, lingering insult.

I sat on the floor, the chains clinking softly as I shifted. My back was against the iron bed frame, my knees pulled up to my chest. I was going through my options, which, let's be honest, were slim to none. I was well and truly fucked.

Unless Lacey decided to go looking for me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Lacey would wait until noon, maybe one, before she started searching for me. When I didn’t show, she'd get worried. She'd probably go to the sheriff.

I could picture it now. Lacey, all frantic and teary-eyed, standing in front of Sheriff Brody's desk. "Rory's missing! We were at the bonfire, and she just... disappeared!"

And Sheriff Brody, that fat, lazy son of a bitch, would lean back in his chair, sighing like she was bothering him. "Oh, that Rory of yours," he'd say, shaking his head. "She's trouble. Probably on another bender, drunk and in some stranger's bed by now."

He wouldn't be too far off from the old me, the one I used to be. But not anymore. I hadn't been that girl in a long time. But they wouldn't believe that. They'd all just sit around, waiting for news about some bar fight I started or some window I broke. They'd wait for me to turn up, hungover and sorry, like I always did. No one would come looking. Not up here. Not in the Knucklebones' holler.

Fuck, I was getting hungry though. My stomach growled, a loud, demanding sound in the quiet wagon. The light from the open door had shifted, telling me it was coming up on early afternoon. And that damn Georgia heat was creepin' in already. The air in the wagon was getting thick and stuffy. It was gonna get hot as hell in here real soon. I was already starting to sweat.

I was trapped, hungry, and about to bake to death in a goddamn cage. And Lacey was probably at home, worrying her pretty little head off, while the whole town dismissed me as a lost cause. Yeah. I was fucked.

I shifted on the floor, the chains rattling like a damn snake warning me off. My stomach was a hollow ache, and the heat was making my head throb, but my mind was sharp, turning the problem over and over. I wasn't stupid. They had to know I'd figure it out. A circus wagon? Up here on the mountain? It was a dead giveaway, no matter how much they'd tried to plain it down with that faded floral wallpaper.

A small, humorless smile touched my lips. I started rehearsing what I'd say, playing it out in my head like a scene from a movie.

"So," I'd say, all casual-like, when the Clown Mask came back. "Let's cut the shit, shall we? I know who you are. Knucklebones. The weirdo brothers from the old carnival. You think you're subtle? You might as well have a goddamn sign out front."

I could see it now. The Clown Mask would probably just tilt his head, that painted grin never changing. He might even clap his hands, all delighted that I'd figured out their little game. "Well, look at that," he'd chirp. "The little bird's got a brain after all."

The Burlap Mask, though... he'd probably just get real still. I could feel his silence like a physical thing. He wouldn't like me knowing. He wouldn't like me having that piece of power, no matter how small. He'd see it as a threat. He'd probably want to shut me up for good.

Would it make it worse? Would confronting them make them tighten the chains, make the cage more permanent? Or would it make it better? Maybe they'd respect me for it, for not being some sniveling, crying victim. Maybe they'd see me as more of an equal.

I snorted to myself. An equal. Right.

But then again, did it really matter? I was here now. I was chained in their fucked-up little nest in the middle of nowhere. Whether I played the dumb, scared girl or the smart-mouthed bitch, the end result was the same. I was still their prisoner. So what the hell did I have to lose? At least if I called them out, I'd get to see the real them, not the masks and the games. And that was worth something. Right?

Chapter 5