The Bloodbath

Sept 12, 2019 22:59:36 GMT -5 cameron said:

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I was in the hall of mirrors.

The circus arrived four days before, but Ma and Pa hadn’t been ‘round to take us and the carnies were already startin’ to pack up tents and hitch shabby buildings to underfed horses. Miss T tired of my beggin’ fast and gave in on that last afternoon, gave in to my whinin’ and gripin’, and so I’d hauled tail down to the edge of the district and ducked under the rich red ribbons ringin’ the range.

They’d taken me once, when I was real small and ornery, and I’d run off on my own the second Pa let me down from his pointy shoulders. Tiny bumblin’ feet led me past greasy runaways takin’ tickets for a pony ride and couples with teeth stuck in candied apples straight into the dressin’ tent, and my early eyes took in way more clown ass than one could ever be prepared to see. The big one turned ‘round - his name was Skeevy Dan, accordin’ to the flyers we’d got in town square the day before - and laughed so loud I pissed. Tent curtain flapped open and Pa scooped me up in my damp pants and humiliation, racin’ me out with a slew of sorries. We’d never gone back, and then they were far too busy to know my favorite color, or even know Skeevy Dan was back in town. (I hoped he didn’t remember me.)

Amblin’ ‘bout the area, I passed people eatin’ pretzels and donkeys with kids on their backs. I passed smiles, and smiles, and smiles. Steppin’ inside a spinnin’ tube, I walked ‘round a corner and stood face to face with my reflection, sunken eyes locked in a battle of determination, and I thought about stayin’. Thought about stayin’ right there, lettin’ them hitch this building to a horse with me inside. Thought about never turnin’ back.

It was sweet like chocolate, my head swirlin’ in dreams of a future I often couldn’t see. The war was in its second year, and life was fucked as it was; the people who worked on this caravan were a blessin’, a reprieve for the masses. They still traveled between districts and brought life to the lifeless, even with whitecoats out for blood. (I wondered why they wore white when they were always drenched in red anyway.)

I was in the house of mirrors now, too. My hands the hands of monsters, and there was a reason I hadn’t joined the carnies: I didn’t bring life, I took it. Similar eyes stared back at me, mirrored me, watched me grab the knives off her body unflinchin’. He’d taken at least two lives I’d seen, but given the blood coatin’ him there were more names to his list.

But this monster was different than me. He reveled in it, and the mirrors shattered like our hopes. He wasn’t my reflection. “Something tells me it’ll be sooner than later, don’t you think?” He swung but I ducked and pivoted away, back a few steps to a full-body distance. He woulda left with the circus, I thought, and that was the difference. I left the hall of mirrors and ran all the way home, threw my arms around Kim the cow and kissed her between the ears, thanked Miss T for all she’d done for us, and read the twins a bedtime story, somethin’ I hadn’t done in years. This kid, he’d have thought himself enough. He’d have been selfish enough.

To my left the dark haired girl who mistook me for a keeper ends the kid who’d gone after Scorp before. Her eyes were low, tired. I whistled, like I would’ve for Kim. “Forget what I wore in here,” I said. “There’s another whitecoat to worry ‘bout.” I thought of Scorpion, and our child, and Miss T, and the twins, and I charged ahead at the boy who reminded me I was good.