Freak Show

five

"How dare you embarrass me, you little bitch." Manson snarled, grabbing my hair and yanking, tangling the long blonde locks between his sweaty fingers. I try to pull myself free of his grasp, but the more I struggle, the harder he pulls. "Maybe you shouldn't be my star. Maybe Angel Boy needs another Angel Girl. A better wife. He has been so good, and you throw up during my show! No, Angel Boy deserves better than you. He won't see you until you're perfect."

"I'm so sorry, Master." I beg, almost throwing up again due to how pathetic I sound. But if this is what it takes to stay alive, I'll do it.

"Are you really, my beautiful angel?" Manson asks, smiling hopefully at me. I nod as my stomach churns and I pretend to fake a smile. He giggles. "I'm so happy, my perfect angel. I don't like being mean to my freaks, but you embarrassed me terribly." 

My mind is racing, desperately trying to fabricate a story that Manson will believe and spare my life. They'll all be jealous. Manson's words race through my mind.

"I'm so s-sorry I, Grayson was so beautiful that I got jealous." I lie, repeating 'You will survive' over and over like a mantra in my head, begging myself to believe it but as I see that we are headed back down the crumbled concrete stairs that lead to the basement, it gets harder and harder to listen.

"Oh, my precious angel, soon you'll outshine them all," he laughs manically, throwing me to the floor roughly, my knees cracking on the concrete, sending vivid jolts of pain through my body and up my spine to where my head is still throbbing.

"But if you ever embarrass me like that again, I'll kill you and get a brand new Angel to replace you. She'll have your family, too. Grayson and Aphrodite both." He laughs like he's taking my most prized possession and I almost slip up and say that they aren't my family, but I know that if I do, my head will be splattered all over the concrete along with whatever foul thing must have died down here to create such an awful smell.

"When can I see them?" I ask, warily. If I can just see Grayson again, we can figure out how to get out of here. Manson doesn't have very good security, and if we could break the lock, escape would be easy. "When will I see Grayson?"

"Oh, my Angel girl, do you miss your husband? You mustn't see him until the wedding!" He giggles in delight, checking his watch. "Maybe we could make it sooner? Would that make you happy? I want you to be happy. All of my freaks are so happy, big happy happy freak family."

I want to tell him that he's demented, that no one here is happy, but I bite my tongue. Too often people in these situations panic, but I know that if I panic or slip up, I'm dead. There is the hilt of a knife poking out from the top of Manson's black laced boots, and if he just got a step closer-

"I'm so lonely down here!" I cry out, forcing tears from the corners of my eyes, forcing myself to look tortured. Manson does exactly as I need him to and comes closer, wishing to comfort his freak. He falls to his knees, taking my face in his hands. He is so close, too close, so close. I want to move away, and now the tears are flowing easily, and all the weight of everything lands on my shoulders, crushing me. But I force myself to focus. I pitch forward in a fake sob, knocking Manson backwards, pretending to embrace him as I quickly slide the blade out of his boot and tucking it under my leg so quickly he doesn't notice. I let out a small breath of relief, and Manson draws back, pushing a blonde hair off of my dirty face, looking sad.

"My poor angel, He'll be back to you soon." he says, and before I can react, he has his thin white lips pressed to mine, clammy skin against mine. I don't move and he pulls back, and looks at me in such an unsettling way that if there was anything in my ravenous stomach, it would be emptied onto the floor. "Or maybe I should keep you all to myself." He says, standing and heading to the doorway, a slight jump in his step, slamming the door shut and locked behind him.

I carefully pick up the blade from under my leg thinking that it was almost too easy. That thought scared me, and I examine the blade to find rust on the edge of the blade, and as I continue to study it I notice that, to my horror, it's blood.

There is a small crevice in the corner of the room where Grayson was chained only two days ago, and I shove the bade into the corner, being sure it isn't visible. I'm confused as to why Manson no longer feels the need to shackle me to the floor, but grateful that I am now able to stand up and stretch my legs. I wonder how much longer I will have to keep up these pretenses before I'll have a chance to run.