Freak Show

thirteen

"Family, I want to formally introduce the newest members of Manson's Makeshift Menagerie, Grayson and Rosalie, and their shining beauty, Aphrodite," Manson smiles, rubbing the top of Aphrodite's head gently. The whole show was gathered around the biggest table I had ever seen which was stockpiled with food, so much food.

    Manson claps giddily, and the rest of the freaks turn their eyes to me and glare, jealousy apparent. The very slowly and grudgingly clap. Aphrodite squeezes my hand, and I look to her and see how worried her expression is, how concerned she is.

    Everyone turns to the food and digs in, making sure they get their fill. "Mommy, why do they not like us?" Aphrodite hiccups softly, trying not to cry. I get on my knees in front of her, taking her hands.

    "What are you talking about, silly girl? They like us, they just have to get used to us is all." I tell her comfortingly, and I think I'm talking to myself more than her. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Grayson watching me, his expression unreadable. I turn now, realizing how hungry I am. I pile my plate with food and sit on the end of the table to eat.

    As I chew the bite of chicken in my mouth, I survey the table. There are freaks of every ethnicity and body type, every disability and talent. And they all look... happy. They look like they belong somewhere, like they have a place to call home.

    I don't realize I'm staring until I hear Grayson's voice.

    "Rose?" He says, timidly, voice full of caution. I look up quickly, catching his worried glance to look over to find Emmerson and Felix enter the tent. Emmerson seems almost choreographed. Every move she makes it full of purpose, every step intentional.

    "Wow, sorry we're late! We were just-" she meets my eyes and stops, silver hair falling in her jet black eyes.

    "Oh, goody! Emmerson and Felix, this is Grayson and Rosalie!" Manson cheers in absolute delight. This is what he's been waiting for. To showcase his new stars to his old ones.

    "I'm afraid we've met, Manny. Especially Grayson and I, right, buddy?" She says, tossing her hair and winking at Grayson, who stiffens and his breathing is uneven, and he's so uncomfortable that I can hear it.

    Manson ignores this token and continues about whatever he was saying to the Tattooed Dynamo, who's name I now know to be Andi. She's animated when she speaks, and she has such a personality about her that lets you know not to mess with her and you'll be fine.

    Sitting next to me is the No-Armed Betty, Penelope. She's an older woman, probably in her later thirties. She doesn't seem to fit in with the cast of the young and animated freaks who occupy the tent.

    Aphrodite has disappeared somewhere, chasing butterflies with one of the other carny's. 

I watch the other freaks interact, my interest piqued.  How could these people feel so content in a place like this? Were they kidnapped as well, or are they here of their own free will? They have to be aware of the atrocities I've endured since my arrival, don't they? 

I lift the cup in front of me and guzzle it's contents eagerly. The taste is immediately biting and bitter. I cringe visibly, looking inside the cup to find deep red liquid inside. I feel a familiar warmth spread through my core and I realize immediately what it is. Wine. The same kind that my mother used to drink in the afternoons when she got home from a particularly stressful work day. I smile to myself at this memory. I always thought my mom was the most beautiful when she was wine drunk. She had fewer inhibitions and a rosy flush to her cheeks and she seemed so happy. There's something itching in the back of my mind, begging for me to understand and remember something, but it won't come.

I empty the rest of the contents into my mouth and swallow them greedily, hoping that these memories of my mom won't go away, and that if I can just remember well enough, it'll be like I am back home and was never kidnapped at all. 

"It's good isn't it?" A velvet voice pours, the voice seeming to coat my body in warmth. Or maybe that's the wine. I look up to find Andi, the Tattooed Dynamo, grinning at me slyly from across the table. I nod eagerly, my head feeling so spinny and light that I feel like a bobble head. She laughs at this. 

"White and you'll be alright, but Red will get you into bed. That's what I always say," Penelope cackles, and the table erupts in laughter. 

"That must be why you always drink red, huh? Hoping it'll finally come true?" Felix grins an evil grin, and I steel myself for a very angry response from Penelope, but it never comes. She rolls her eyes at him and gives him a half-hearted punch on his arm, which just makes his grin grow wider, his eyes glinting with emotion. 

I understand then. These people are family. A family as messed up as they come, but they all genuinely care for one another. 

I feel someone grab my arm and I look up to find a very worried Grayson staring at me with blazing eyes. I can feel everyone's eyes burning holes into my back as I look at him.

    "Rosalie, can we talk?" He asks lowly, eyes full of blatant concern, and so I nod, and stand up to follow him out of the tent and into the late night air. My body feels more wobbly than I anticipated it to, and I bite back a giggle. As I leave, Manson catches my eye, smirking slightly.

"Looks like Rosalie stole your luck again this time, P." I hear Felix smirk as I leave. 

"Hell, at least one of us is getting some," she laughs an exasperated laugh, and I fight off the smile attempting to crawl onto my face.

    Once we're outside, it's almost breathtaking how beautiful the carnival is at night, with all of the twinkling lights and big top tents and lighthearted decorations. I wonder how I could ever view this place as an equivalency of hell. The stars are so bright, twinkling like lovers cast high in the atmosphere. It's the kind of night that inspired Van Gogh's Starry Night. It's the kind of night you would write songs about, reminisce about teenage loves to. It's so bone shatteringly beautiful, and I want to sprout wings and sail into the sky.

    "Rosalie, everything is so twisted now. I-I... I don't know what to think." Grayson says, and I turn to face him, and in this lighting, he's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. His eyes are an infinite blue sea, and I'm dying to drown.

    "Then don't," I say, and I press my lips to his, and he's shocked. He doesn't kiss me back for a few seconds, and then suddenly, he pulls me so hard against him that my body fits into every crevice of his body like puzzle pieces. He holds me like I'm his; he kisses me like he already has me. I feel like at any second, I may spin into an infinity of bliss and utterly breathtaking peace.

    It's like I can forget that there are so many problems in my life and that survival is my top priority.

    Grayson pulls back and looks into my eyes. "Tell me that I'm crazy for wanting you so badly, even in the circumstances. Tell me I'm crazy." He says, and his mind is an empty canvas that I can paint any way that I want. I could tell him to crawl at my feet right now, and he would. But I don't. Instead, I kiss him again. And again and again until I can't think and I'm spinning into the silky paradise of oblivion and I don't want to leave.

"You're crazy," I whisper against his lips. He grins.