1. Chapter One

Self-Destruction Mode - Chainsmokers Ft. bludnymph

The oven chimes loudly signaling the lasagna I've had cooking in there for what feels like years has finally finished. I jump, startled as it catches me off guard. My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I pull open the oven door, and peer inside. The foil lid to the frozen lasagna tray is tented over the top allowing the steam to escape. Quicky, grabbing the towel from the counter, I wrap it around my hand before reaching in to pull the foil tent from my lasagna and close the door. I toss the lid and towel on the butcher block counter, before turning the oven on broil. The cheese should always be crispy and golden brown on top of the lasagna, I don't care what anyone says.

Stuck waiting for my dinner to finish, I decide to head to the living room and check on Dad. It's already late in the evening and knowing him, he's probably half a dozen beers into the case he brought home after work and passed out cold in his chair. Since Mom died three years ago, every day with him is a repeat. Work, drink, sleep, and repeat. He barely talks to me anymore and if he does, he isn't the loving father he used to be. The once supportive and stable father he was when I was growing up is nothing more than a distant memory. I get it, he misses her, but so do I.

Reaching the doorway, I peer around the corner and into the living room. As usual, I'm right. My dad is passed out in his recliner. An open can of Molson beer still gripped tightly in his hand as the Toronto and Ottawa game plays on the TV. Even in sleep the pain he undoubtedly feels on daily basis without my mom is etched into his face. Yet, I can't deny that I'm angry with him. We both lost her that day, not just him. Why does he get to just check out and leave me to do all the things he should be doing? How does a father just emotionally shut down when his daughter needs him the most? It's bullshit. He drinks himself numb and I'm left to pick up the pieces, and his empty cans.

It's now me who holds this house and what is left of our family together. All while trying to keep up my grades at college and make enough extra cash picking up shifts at the resturant to fill the fridge and cover the bills.

Mom would be disgusted with the man he has become. I know I am. Sometimes, I even wish it was him who died, not her. I'm a horrible person.

Making my way back to the small kitchen, I quickly open the oven door to check on my lasagna and gasp when I see the broil setting must've been set too high and the top of my lasagna is nearly black. Panicked, I reach into the oven without thinking, grabbing the hot pan with my bare hands.

"Ow, fuck!" I hiss, quickly realizing my idiotic mistake. Scarlet burn marks form on my hands as I grab the towel and quickly push aside the stinging pain as I lift the tray from the oven and place it on the stovetop. Using my hip to close the oven, I toss the towel to the counter before rushing to the sink turning the cold faucet on full blast. The icy water offers some relief from the burning sensations across my hands, but not much. I pat them dry with a clean paper towel to inspect the damage and find myself thankful. They don't look as bad as they feel. Nothing that needs medical attention.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Pulling it out carefully, I hiss at the contact of the denim on my sensitive skin. Naomi"s name pops up on the glowing screen with a selfie of the two of us from our last camping trip to Algonquin park. Since it's a Friday night, her call can only mean one thing. Swiping right, I answer the call and raise the phone to my ear.

"Should I even ask who's party you are trying to drag me to tonight?" I answer with an amused tone. My stomach growls as I grab a plate and spatula from the dishrack. Turning back to my now charred lasagna, I decide fuck it. I'm too hungry to give a shit about it being ruined and cut out a square shaped piece and plop it down on my plate.

Naomi laughs through the phone. "No lame party tonight, bitch. How soon can you be ready?"

"Depends" I answer as I take a seat at the small kitchen table with my plate. "Where are we going?"

"The circus," Naomi replies with a serious tone. The circus? She can't be serious.

"Am I missing something? I know you like to let loose and be immature but the circus. Really? I'm pretty sure we're way too old." I retort with a sarcastic tone as I lift the charcoal top layer off with my fork and bring a mouth full of the soft, cheesy middle to my lips.

She laughs again. "Not for this kind of circus. It's gone viral on TikTok, and tonight, it's in Casselman. I scored us tickets. Trust me girl we all need this! Get ready, Claire and I will be there in twenty minutes to pick you up."

"Dress hot!" Claire shouts in the background before the line goes dead. Confused, I place my phone on the table while I quickly finish eating. I don't know what the girls are on about, but their excitement has me curious.

Naomi and Claire have been my best friends since elementary school. Naomi and I have known each other since we were in diapers. Our moms were close friends and had regular playdates through out our childhood. Claire moved here from Ottawa when we were in grade three and it was obvious what a culture shock it was moving from the busy city to our little farm town of Casselman, Ontario. Seeing her struggle, Naomi and I took her under our wing and the three of us have been inseparable since. When Mom died, they were the only ones who had my back. They regularly checked in on me and made sure I was coping okay. I couldn't have gotten through it without them.

Taking my last bite, I push the chair back as I stand up. Placing my dirty plate in the sink, I rush down the hall to my room. Closing the door tightly behind me I make my way to my closet. Scanning the array of clothing hanging up I remember Claire's instructions, "dress hot," she said. Whatever that means. I've never been one to care much about brand names or fancy clothing and one look at my closet it's easy to tell I prefer a simple and neutral style wardrobe. Pulling out my favorite light blue denim skirt, I know regardless of what kind of circus they're dragging me to, there is no way I'm going anywhere without it tonight. It's perfect for the Canadian summer weather and literally, looks good with anything.

"Circus…hot…right, well crochet bralette it is," I whisper. Pulling out a white crochet bralette-style crop top. Looking down at my shoe collection, I grab my go-to chunky black strapped heels and complete the outfit with a thin black leather belt around my waist. "Perfect." Rushing to my vanity, I free my long coffee-colored hair from the silk scrunchie that's been supporting it all day. It tumbles down my back in thick curly locks. Grabbing my bottle of Moroccan oil, I press two pumps into my hand before rubbing my hands together and spreading the product into my hair wanting to go with simple beach waves tonight.

After applying the final touches to my hair, a couple spritzes of my fave perfume, and quickly throwing on some simple eyeliner and nude lipstick, I'm ready to go. Grabbing my purse from my bed, I hook it over my shoulder and head out quietly into the hall. Passing the living room, I peek inside finding dad still passed out, but now his beer is tipped over and soaked into the carpet.

Not like it matters. Dad's current lifestyle has ruined everything nice in this house. He can't even be bothered to pick up his own trash, and don't even get me started on the stench that has become impossible to get rid of. No matter how many bottles of air freshener I go through, or how many times I clean this shit hole from top to bottom, the smell lingers. Putrid like piss and mold. It's vile. The carpets and couch are a complete right off and should be burned at this point. I sigh, knowing tomorrow I'll have to shampoo the carpets, again and it's just a waste of time.

A car horn honks outside. The girls are letting me know they're here. Dad stirs, dropping the can of Molson to the carpet, but he doesn't wake. The hockey game continues on the TV, the crowd cheering as Ottawa scores their third goal against Toronto. Quietly, I head outside, closing and locking the front door behind me. I find Naomi and Claire parked out front in Naomi's Ford Escape. They're blasting Paramour by Sub Urban and dancing in their seats as I approach and I can't help but shake my head and laugh at their enthusiasm.

"Finally!" Claire shouts as she pulls down the front visor. Climbing into the back seat, I toss my purse on the seat next to me as I pull my seatbelt over my shoulder. "I actually doubted you'd come tonight Conners, not going to lie."

Confused, I lean forward, grabbing the back of her chair. I watch as she applies a layer of gloss over her already glossy lips, and laugh. "As if you guys would've let me bail tonight." Claire is wearing a tight strapless black dress, with a pair of demonia platform boots. Her signature emo girl look complete with hot pink streaks through her platinum blond hair. While Naomi is wearing a cute red mini crop tank, some tight ripped skinny jeans and a pair of jordans. Her long dark hair is braided in tons of tiny braids that cascade down her back.

"That's true, there's no way we'd have let you miss this," Naomi explains with a smirk as she revs the engine. She takes off down the street and turns up the volume on the radio as we make our way through town. Casselmen is a small town just east of Ottawa. Mostly made up of Dairy farms, life out here can get pretty boring. It doesn't take much to get my friends excited for something new, but I've never seen them this excited. I don't know what it is they've got planned, but it's gotta be pretty fucking epic to get this kind of response out of them.

"So where did you say we're going?" I ask, resting an arm on each of their seats. They exchange a look, and a smile forms on Claire's face as Naomi sets her sights back on the road.

"Cirque Du Désir," Claire responds with a hesitant tone.

"I'm confused…am I supposed to know what that is?"

"Circus of desires you idiot." Naomi laughs.

"No, I know that…but what is it about this circus that has you two all hyped?"

"Well, it's not really something we can explain, more something you need to see for yourself." Claire explains. "Look, just look it up on TikTok, we've got time, right Naomi?"

"Yeah, Alexa says we should arrive in about eleven minutes, but Indie… don't judge just based on what you see on there, okay? It's not all true." Naomi responds, a hint of caution in her voice.

"Right… cause that's not alarming at all," I chuckle, pulling my phone from my purse. Quickly, I open TikTok and type in the name of the circus. My heart races with anticipation, but the moment the videos and reels pop up, my breath catches in my throat. "What the actual fuck? What is this? Some sort of sex club? Is that a real bearded lady? Is she getting-" I swipe up, finding a video of a man in a black trainer coat and a creepy clown mask that covers his face. Odd, but that's not what draws my attention. It's the way he's perched in the center of the room, and yet unbothered by the chaos and carnality that"s happening around him. I scroll through the hundreds of comments:

"Lux is so fucking hot. He creates the best parties man."

"Yass Lux is daddy. I fucked him in Chicago."

"Bullshit. Everyone knows Lux only watches, the guy doesn't even move from his chair. All he cares about is creating the parties."

"Oh he moved for me, over and over." The last one replied with a wink emoji.

"What's everyone"s obsession with, Lux?" I question the girls. Finding myself curious.

"You know that saying, you always want what you can't get? Well, Lux, is basically a goddamn sex god, I mean look at the guy. But, he never takes part." Claire sighs.

"Never? I find that hard to believe."

"Seriously. There are millions of videos from Cirque Du Désir all over social media. The guy is as viral as it gets, and none of them show him out of that damn throne."

Weird, but interesting. The girls are right, the guy is fucking gorgeous, even with the mask covering his face. But why wouldn't he indulge in the parties he creates? I bite down on my lip.

"Well, maybe he's just never seen someone worth leaving his throne for," I whisper.

The girls burst out in laughter and I quickly click my phone off, shoving it back into my pocket.

"Now, do you see why I didn't think you'd actually agree to come along. It's definitely not your scene." She laughs. For some reason, I take offense to her statement. Like she thinks I'm so innocent and naive that I wouldn't go to a sex club. Rolling my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest and lift my eyes to meet hers in the visor mirror.

"Well, clearly you were wrong, and I can't wait to get there."

"Oh yeah? Why? You want a turn with the bearded lady too?" Naomi jokes as she turns down a dirt road.

"Nope, I have my eyes on that ring-master," I jokingly say, as I raise my eyebrow and smirk at them. The girls grow silent, exchanging yet another look that confuses me. "I was just joking."

"Right, well just be careful, okay? Theres alot of bad shit going around about him online. We're here," Naomi explains, as she pulls into a large field.

"Did you just tell me not to believe everything I see online about this place?" I laugh earning myself an eyeroll from Naomi.

Cars are parked in lines along the field leaving a path cleared to walk down. At the end of the path, is a large red and white striped big top tent, complete with the small red flag perched high on the top point. Even from here the music from the party can be heard clearly. Groups of clowns wearing security vests pace the area, watching and waiting for the first sign of trouble.

"Tonight is going to be fucking awesome bitches!" Claire shouts as she unbuckles. Naomi finds a parking spot and turns off the ignition. Grabbing my purse, I follow suit and hop out of the car. I don't know what this place is meant to be, or what things I'll witness while here, but I know that there is no way in hell I'm not sticking it out. Besides, it beats being at home, eating burnt lasagna, and shampooing beer-stained carpets, right?