The Freakshow (Sanders Sides Fan-fic) {DISCONTINUED}

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(I'm sorry for the spam and also, I didn't proofread these one last time before publishing them sooo... This isn't much better than the original probably, but here ya go.)

There had been yelling before I was dragged out of the house by my angry father. I didn't fight for fear of being hurt and just followed. We got in the car where a skeleton of a man drove us away from home. The city lights blocked out the stars in the sky that I stared at until my heavy eyes couldn't stay open any longer.
   
    Father barking at the driver to turn scared me awake. I blinked sleepily, peering out the window with heavy eyes for a while. Until the light from the car caught a birch tree and the black eye staring right at me. I jumped and quickly cast my gaze to the floor of the car. "Just a stupid tree. Just a stupid tree." I thought to myself over and over. The car turned before coming to a halt, and I dared look up again. First, I noticed the stars. Next, I noticed the cars parked beside us and the people meandering towards the source of a bright light shining on the gravel. Father roughly took me by the hand and got me out of the car.
   
    And there it stood. A mansion. It appeared to be a similar size to ours, but this one felt...threatening. Like it was just silently waiting until it had lured its prey into the inviting light of its mouth before BAM! It swallowed us all. The statues out front looked to be in agony and crying for us to turn back, but Father pulled us closer. I whimpered at the feeling of the mansion glaring at me. This didn't feel right at all. Something just felt... off.
   
    Just inside the doorway of the grand entrance was a table with masquerade masks laid out across it. Everyone seemed to be grabbing one. Father slipped on a silver mask that covered most of his face and threw away a slip of paper that I caught had his name on it before it went into the trash. In his hand was another mask though, this one smaller. It was black and gold with white strips around the right eye with a few measures of music on them. Father slipped it on me before I could look at it much more and herded me further inside the house. The floor was checkered in black and white marble with a red rug going right up the middle and up the stairs at the other end of the entryway. Set across from the table of masks was a stand filled with lots of treats and drinks. There were two doors on either side of the grand entryway, each with a symbol on them. As Father joined in the crowd filing into one of the rooms on the left side, I got a better look at the door to see it was a black spade symbol on this door.
   
    The room we entered was dim. Chairs were set up to face the stage at the other end. Father marched right up to the front and sat down on a chair reserved just for him. He forced me to sit beside him in the chair that had a seat on it like I had to use the one time I went to a movie theater to help me sit higher. I tried peering under the black curtains to see what was onstage but couldn't see anything except shadows of feet moving back and forth across the stage. I looked up at Father and finally worked up the courage to speak, "Father, why are we here? What is this place? Why are we wearing these?"
   
    "You ask too many questions." Father shot a glare at me, "We are here to watch a show, and we need to protect our identities by wearing masks. No more questions."
   
    I wanted to ask what kind of show but held my tongue. I gently rubbed my wrist where Father had been gripping tightly to drag me along everywhere tonight. It hurt, but I'd take it over getting beat again.
   
    It wasn't much longer before the lights dimmed more and a spotlight lit up the stage. A man stepped out onto the stage in a black suit with a black mask covering his entire face. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO MY FREAKSHOW!"
   
    His voice boomed across the room without the use of a microphone, "What makes them freaks? They're not pesky humans but not of our kind, of course!"
   
    This got a few chuckles from the crowd. 'Everyone here is...a vampire?' I asked in my head, looking around as best I could without turning my head too much. The man continued, "I, The Ringmaster, have orchestrated one of my best shows yet with my favorite freaks! Now, I won't keep you waiting anymore! First up, our lovely, little Puppet will tell us a story!"
   
    The man backed offstage while gesturing to what was behind the opening curtains. I covered my mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped my throat. A pale, thin boy with purple hair, (and certainly no older than me), was in the middle of the stage. His seemingly limp body just dangling a foot above the stage. Stagelights lit up the wires connected into his joints and leading up into the ceiling where I couldn't see. Music began to play as the boy's head was whipped upwards, making me shrink in my seat. Tears slipped down his face from the black buttons he had for eyes, and his stitched lips trembled. He was real.
   
    Act after horrific act played out before my young eyes. I wanted to vomit and look away, but something kept me from doing either. I couldn't tear my gaze away no matter how much I wanted to. All of the so-called "freaks" were kids, and they all stared at me with pleading eyes. Except the girl who only had empty sockets where her eyes should be, and the boy with no face at all. My body was frozen in horror. I couldn't even cry or scream. All I could do was watch them being tortured. Tortured all because of what? They're not us? What kind of fucked up bullshit is any of this!
   
    My father gripped my wrist once more and headed to the side of the stage. "The Ringmaster," as he called himself, stood at the stairs and greeted Father happily. After a short bit of small talk, The Ringmaster turned to me, "Ah, Roman, it is so lovely to finally meet you. You know, I had this mask made specially for you. Do you like it? What did you think of the show?"
   
    I hid behind Father's leg, unsure if he'd like my answers. He chuckled and ruffled my hair, "More bashful than your father let on."
   
    The two men began talking again in hushed voices. My attention was more focused on the workers moving around backstage. They were moving props and one seemed to be mopping up blood. I shuddered and looked away. I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare already. My father's grip tightened as they stopped speaking in hushed tones, "Enjoy the other shows. I will be showing off another freak in the diamond room. He's not too interesting, but he is a freak all the same."
   
    After short goodbyes, Father was dragging me away and The Ringmaster just waved to me. We stared at each other until I was pulled out of the room. 'He's the worst villain I could ever dream of...'
   
    We went across the hall to another room that had a red diamond on the door. This one looked the same as the first but with red seats instead of black and was a little smaller. Once again we sat in the front row and waited for the curtains to raise. We didn't wait as long as we had the first time for the curtains to be lifted. On the stage was the man, which I wondered how he got there if he didn't use the door we did, and a chair with another boy strapped to it. His hair looked blue and was slicked back out of his face with black-framed glasses over his dull eyes. If it weren't for the occasional blink and barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest, I would've thought he wasn't real. Even his voice didn't sound real, it was monotone, robotic, dead. Then the blood began to drip onto the floor. I couldn't deny it anymore. I couldn't convince myself it was just some robot anymore. There was so much blood. It was more disturbing than little girls shattering each others hands into little glass pieces, and I wanted to vomit. But the boy's demeanor never changed. Not even tears staining his cheeks. How?
   
    As soon as the curtains closed, I was begging Father to take me home. I was too scared of him before, but I hoped he had seen enough now. He just grunted and took a hold of my bruising wrist. He pushed me down on the bottom stair and ordered me to stay. I watched him walk up the stairs with teary eyes and hugged my knees to my chest. Why? Why would he bring me here? Why does he enjoy this? Why does anyone enjoy this? My eyes flicked around the room at the people until I found a clock. I focused on it and tried to tune out everything and everyone. The screams, the laughter, and the shouting coming from beneath the stairs. I blocked it all out and just stared at the clock, waiting for Father to return. Half an hour later, Father was pulling me to my feet. Relief flooded through me as we walked to the front doors. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination or not, but Father seemed...calmer, maybe? Something just seemed different about him.
   
    When we were finally driving away from the Mansion, I didn't dare look back in case it tried to pull us back in its clutches. I just stared at the floor and hugged myself tightly. Everytime I closed my eyes, horrific images burned themselves into my eyelids. I was still hoping to wake up soon and realize it was all a nightmare, but even if it was, how was I supposed to recover from it?