Chapter 12

It's been a few days since I last saw Hell and it's my first night at the circus, and my emotions are a tangled mess. I crave him with a burning intensity. I want him to hurt and fuck me, to release this pain inside me, even though I know it's wrong. It defies everything I stand for, it's not fair on E and I feel so guilty for it, but I can't help it. I feel like he's turning all of my shattered pieces into a beautiful masterpiece, and it's a twisted sensation because it's dragging me back from my path to recovery, I think.

Surrendering to him and exposing my vulnerability, he saw I wasn't like other girls, but he wanted me anyway. In that moment, he helped me.

His blade relieved my pain, and strangely, it felt right because I wasn't inflicting it upon myself so I couldn't hate myself for it.

His pleasure gave me something I have never felt before, making me realize I have the ability to feel euphoria. His presence and words, they make me feel as if everything I believed was wrong with me, could never be wrong in his eyes.

Maybe he's right; perhaps I'm just as messed up in my head as he is and despite everything he makes me feel, I know I made the right decision by telling him to leave me alone. Hell is not good for me, even if sometimes it seems like he is. I am deluded. He cannot fix me—he is broken himself.

I've put up some curtains in the trailer to create some kind of privacy, yet I have a strange feeling that nothing will stop this man. He is, as he said, obsessed and I don't doubt he means it.

As I prepare for the circus, I lean into the mirror, painting my face with black makeup, transforming myself into a broken doll which is ironic considering what Hell calls me. Cracks spread from my heavily lined eyes, and I paint stitches from the corner of my lips, extending to my cheeks to create the illusion of a wide smile. I add two small red hearts beneath one eye and curl my blonde hair into loose waves.

While thinking about getting into my outfit since I am running out of time, I notice Eli enter behind me in the reflection. As his aftershave wafts through the air, I turn around to face him. Guilt creeps in as I think about our argument and then what I did with Hell hours later. I'm stuck in a limbo of telling him the truth or burying it in the past as fucked as that sounds.

I don't want to fight with E. He looked after me when I was at my lowest, and now I feel like I unfairly accused him of something so disgusting just because of my past. But in the aftermath of what happened between Hell and me, I can't shake the feeling that there's no future for me and E. He's been a great friend, but I need to be honest with myself that that's all we are. I can't keep letting him believe it can be more, because I wouldn't have surrendered to Hell so easily if it were. E didn't even enter my mind or stop me and that's the harsh truth. When things have calmed down between us, I know it's time to have that talk.

I look him up and down as he slips on some loafers. "Are you coming to the circus?" I ask with a hopeful tone.

Without looking at me, he tucks his blue shirt into his black pants. "Nah," he answers coldly.

I raise an eyebrow, pulling my hoodie tighter around me and crossing my arms. "So, where are you heading to?"

He turns his back to me, collecting the keys to his truck before he walks toward the door. "I'm going to a bar. I need a drink," he replies, his tone still distant.

My lips form a flat line, feeling slightly disappointed that he doesn't want to see me perform tonight and I decide to say something. "I would have thought you'd want to watch the show. I'm dancing for the first time tonight."

He stops at the threshold, his back to me, and keeps his eyes forward. "Why would I do that? We're not bound to each other, right?" he retorts, his words full of bitterness.

My jaw tightens, and I look away, but from the corner of my eye, I notice he glances over his shoulder at me. "Have a good night, Noir. Good luck."

With that, he walks away, and when I hear the trailer door open and shut, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

When I eventually turn around to face the mirror, I am startled, jumping backward as a petrified scream nearly escapes me. Arabella's reflection stares back at me with wide, haunting eyes, covered in blood, her mouth twisted into a silent scream. In the blink of an eye, she disappears, leaving me frozen in terror, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs, questioning my sanity as I stare at my own reflection.

"Weak," her loud taunting whisper in my left ear causes me to spin on my heels, my breathing frantic.

I stand there, worried with each inhale that she might return, but she doesn't. With a jittery breath, I quickly find my costume, and hurry to the living room to put it in a bag.

Once I step out of the trailer into the cold night, I hike my backpack over my shoulder and make my way toward the circus. The breeze bites at my skin, freezing my bones, while a chill creeps up my spine. A single raindrop splashes onto my face, and I growl in frustration, yanking my hood over my head to protect my freshly done makeup and hair.

As I approach the circus, the distant murmur of an eager crowd grows louder and the glow of the lights pierces the darkness, and the smell of popcorn filling my nostrils. I focus on my goal: go in, get ready, perform, and fucking leave. As I pass by The Hollows' trailer, the roar of their bikes rumbles through the night. I keep my gaze fixed ahead, my pulse racing because I know it's them, but I refuse to acknowledge their presence.

As I draw closer to the circus, I watch Soul and Wrath whiz ahead on their bikes, their taillights flickering like fireflies in the night. The hum of Hell's bike comes up slowly beside me and I try not to pay him any attention, keeping my eyes fixed forward, but from the corner of my eye, I see him matching my quick strides, his engine revving aggressively in an attempt to startle me. The sound pierces the night, but I remain unfazed.

"Need a ride?" he shouts over his roaring engine.

I give him a brief glance, our eyes locking through his spiral lenses, and with a small, silent shake of my head, I look forward once again, my steps not stopping. He continues to follow me, and when I reach the back entrance of the tent, I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I slip inside, disappearing into the shadows, out of his sight.

I march straight for Madame's chamber, hoping to speak to her before the show. I have questions about Dark Night, things I don't know, and I'm not sure why I'm being kept in the dark, but my frustration is mounting. Hell mentioned people kill themselves in the Death Room's, and my reaction to that wasn't what a normal person would be because of the situation I was facing.

Nothing usually surprises me, and death doesn't scare me, but what does fucking scare me is not knowing what I am facing before I face it, like the death traps. Ignorance is more terrifying than the thought of dying.

Since Hell and I were too busy caught up in this twisted fucking connection we have, riding his hand until I was coming on my damn panties that were stuffed inside my pussy, I didn't have a chance to ask him what the fuck that place was and why it even existed. Sure, I could have asked him just now, but that would mean engaging with him again. Every time I am in his presence, my walls crumble like they're being shattered by a fucking earthquake, never to be seen again. That guy is dangerous, not just to my body, but to my mind too.

As soon as I enter, I spot her sitting behind her desk, a cigarette dangling from her lips, her head bowed over a spread of tarot cards. I stop in the middle of the room and clear my throat, but she doesn't look up.

"What do you want, Noir? You should be getting ready. You perform in less than twenty minutes," she states dismissively.

I inhale deeply, trying to rein in my irritation at her ignorance.

"Dark Night," I snap out.

She pauses, a tarot card held mid-air, her attention shifting slightly. "What the fuck is it, Madame? Am I part of it?" I demand, my eyes locked on her, refusing to be dismissed any longer.

She contemplates for a moment, the card still suspended between her fingers until her eyes finally meet mine, and she tilts her head to the side, a smile curling on her lips.

"Of course you are, dear. All my best performers are," she replies, her voice sweet with a sinister undertone. I stay silent, feeling my heart suddenly thumping against my chest, though I can't quite pinpoint why.

"Why do you ask, Noir?"

"The Death Rooms," I blurt out, "I almost got myself fucking killed last night because you failed to tell me such a place exists here." I point my finger at her accusingly. "It's your duty as my boss to tell me what I am facing," I seethe, my tone sharp with anger.

She keeps her dark eyes locked on mine as she drops the card onto the desk, her jaw set tight at my choice of words. I watch her every move as she places her hands on the wood and rises from her chair. She walks around her big desk calmly, her red dress trailing behind her until she stops in front of me.

At eye level, we stare into each other's eyes, and hers scan my features. "You know what you're facing though, don't you?" she asks calmly, and I stay silent, my eyes wide, my chest tightening, threatening to lose control. "You knew it the moment you met Hell."

She reaches out, softly taking a lock of my hair. "I wouldn't have let you work here if I didn't think you belonged here, Noir."

I back away from her touch, my face turning to the side as I try to calm myself down. "Why do you do it?" I ask before looking at her again. "Why do you kill people?" My voice is low, filled with curiosity. "Are they innocent?"

Her eyes narrow, scanning mine, but suddenly she looks over my shoulder. I glance to the side to see Hell standing behind me, his dark presence sending a chill down my spine. I growl, shooting Madame one last look before turning around and storming past Hell, heading straight for the changing rooms.

As I walk in, a row of mirrors catches my eye, surrounded by bright lights. A group of girls are scattered around, busy with their preparations. I quickly make my way over, trying to calm the storm raging inside me as I approach a mirror and Blush stands from her seat as she notices me.

"Noir?" she says with a concerned tone, but I just give her a small smile, dumping my bag on the desk beside her and starting to strip down.

"How are you feeling?" she asks curiously, but I avoid meeting her eyes. With a tiny nod, I continue to remove my top clothes and get into my costume. I feel the eyes of all the girls on me, as if I'm an intruder, but I ignore it; many of them I haven't even met yet.

As I wrap my corset around me, a girl suddenly steps forward, her eyes white, and her long black hair cascades over her bronzed skin. She's dressed in white: a tight corset, and a tutu, the complete opposite of my black attire.

"Oh, look who it is, it's the new Hollow's girl," she sneers as she folds her arms across her chest defiantly. Three more girls join behind her, mirroring her stance. I quickly look around, making sure no one is behind me before meeting her gaze.

"Were you talking to me?" I respond, my tone cool, but my grip on the corset ribbon tightens.

"Of course, I was talking to you! Have you dyed your head so much that you can't even tell when someone's talking to you? Fucking air head," she snaps, her words cutting through the air like shards of glass, while her minions cackle behind her.

My teeth grind down, not in the fucking mood for this bullshit, but I notice Blush taking a calm step beside me, which the girl picks up on.

"You want to become a traitor for an outsider, Blush?" she mocks, but I refuse to back down.

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you insane? Just back off and get on with your shit," I snap back.

Suddenly, she steps toward me, and instinct takes over, forcing me walk forward to meet her until we're nose to nose. I hold my ground, bubbling with anger after everything that has happened recently.

"I suggest you get the fuck out of my face before I give you a new one," I growl, "I'm not the one you want to fuck with."

Suddenly, the ribbon on my corset is yanked back, and I collide with a hard chest. I keep my head low, knowing it's him, feeling the unbearable anger radiating from his aura.

When the girl speaks, I glance up at her scowling at Hell behind me. "You want me to just be okay with this, Hell? Her stealing my job? I have been the Hollow's girl for years!"

Before I can even open my mouth to ask what the fuck she's talking about, his deep voice vibrates on my back. "She didn't steal your job, Pearl. I fucking did." Her face falls at the revelation. "I was the one who requested she be the Hollow's girl."

My brows pinch in confusion, "You did what?" I breathe out, my eyes flicking up to him behind me, but he keeps his harsh gaze fixed on Pearl.

"Are you going to argue with me?" he aims toward her, and I look to see her give him a small head shake in response, dropping her arms beside her in surrender.

"Good, now get the fuck out there and work." He glances around, his dark eyes meeting every single girl in here but me, "Now!" he shouts aggressively causing all of our bodies to tighten.

They scurry out of the changing room like ants, including Blush and when it's just me and Hell alone, I pull my ribbon out of his grasp and face a mirror. "I don't need your help," I mutter, refusing to meet his eyes, though I can feel his crawling all over me.

I reach around to tighten my corset, but I struggle without assistance, and from the corner of my eye, I notice him edging closer until he's standing directly behind me. He suddenly presses his hand against my back with a hard shove, forcing me to brace myself with my palms on the vanity.

"I said I don't need your help!" I bark, but he simply ignores me, wrapping the ribbons around his tattooed fists and presses his crotch against my ass. With a swift, powerful yank, he pulls them so tight that I groan, the air leaving my lungs.

"Shut the fuck up and let me help you, stubborn Little Dolly," he demands. With my head tilted down, he continues to tighten the corset, clearly unaware of his own strength.

"I didn't mean with this, I meant in general. I could handle her..." I manage through shallow breaths. "Besides, what's with all the secrecy around here? Why does no one tell me anything?"

"I have no doubt you could handle her, pretty girl. I was just telling her the facts."

My teeth grind as I respond, "That I am somehow the new Hollow's girl?"

"That's right."

"Why?"

"Because you're better than her and because I fucking said so," he answers bluntly.

I roll my eyes, "That's unfair, Hell."

"Life ain't fair, Noir." I don't argue with that statement because he is absolutely right.

"And what exactly do you want to know?" he questions, his tone sharp as he gives another tight yank on the ribbon. "I think deep down you know exactly what the fuck we are and what this place is," he takes a brief pause before continuing. "It's no secret what Oddity is once you're in it, but tonight's show is just a mirage of normality. It disguises what really lurks beneath the surface."

I wince, the corset digging into my ribs. "What does that even mean, Hell? I want to know why the fuck you think this is normal. Why you all act like it's just another day at the circus when it's clearly one big farce."

His grip on the ribbons relaxes slightly, but his intensity doesn't waver. "Normal? There's nothing fucking normal about this place, Dolly. We live in the shadows, thrive in the mayhem. Every performer here has a story, a reason for being part of this twisted show and for most of us, it's all that we know."

"And what's your story, Hell?" I challenge, turning my head slightly to catch his gaze in the mirror. "Why are you here?"

His vortex eyes darken, and for a moment he ponders before he continues with tying the knot. "My reasons are my own," he says, his voice low, "But I won't let anything, or anyone hurt you, Noir."

I scoff, trying to hide the unsettling warmth his words bring.

"I don't need your protection, Hell. I need answers."

"You'll get them," he replies, tightening the corset one last time. "But you have to earn them. Trust isn't given here, it's fucking earned."

I meet his gaze in the mirror once more. "And how do I earn it?"

He pauses, his spiral eyes flicking up to meet mine in the reflection, "By surviving. By showing that you belong here, that you can handle whatever the fuck this place throws at you."

I take a deep inhale, my tone hardening, "And if I just want to leave?"

He suddenly whirls me around to face him as soon as I say the words, snatching my throat to keep me steady. Tilting my head back, the pad of his thumb presses down on my bottom lip, his face so close that I can feel his smoky breath on my skin. Panic rises as I struggle to breathe, both from his proximity and the corset's tight grip on my lungs.

His gaze bores into mine, his jaw set tight. "You can't," he orders, his voice chillingly calm compared to his unpredictable demeanour. "Once you were declared part of Dark Night, there was no way out." I look at him confusingly as he continues. "Oddity owns you now, Noir. The only way you'll ever leave this place is in a fucking body bag just like the rest of us."

My gaze widens in shock, but fury quickly replaces it, "No one fucking owns me."

A dangerous twitch of a sneer spreads across his lips, "Oh, my Little Dolly, that's far from the truth."

As I roll my eyes, I push myself up onto the desk and he releases my throat but stays standing between my thighs, his presence overwhelming.

"In your dreams, Hell, maybe." I murmur.

Ignoring his gaze as he watches me carefully, poised to pounce again at any moment, I grab my bag off the vanity and pull out my black tutu and fishnets. I slip the tutu down my body until it's fixed on my hips, then draw my jeans down my legs.

As soon as they reach my ankles, he yanks them off with an aggression that sends a jolt through me. He steps forward, grabbing the back of my thighs, pulling me closer to him and forcing my legs around his waist in an animalistic act of frustration. I have to lean back on one hand while the other pushes against his chest. His warm palms move up the back of my thighs, my skin igniting under his touch and his spiral contacts lock onto my lips.

"You think I didn't notice your choice of face paints tonight, Noir?" He acknowledges. "Are you trying to tease the fuck out of my cock until I end up destroying you? I think you want me more than you'd like to admit."

I scoff and look away, "Yeah right. Your head couldn't get any bigger."

As he lowers his face to the side of my neck, his hands reach my bare hips and when he gives them a tight, painful squeeze, I feel the throb in my pussy again.

"Your little cunt came hard the other night, and you're still as frustrated as ever? Does my Dolly seek more pleasure and pain from me?" he asks with a growl in his throat.

Yes! I internally scream. Yet, I stay silent, knowing better than to tempt him. My chest heaves with every breath I take from pure arousal and fear, but eventually, he draws back, our dark eyes instantly meeting.

He stands upright, snatching my fishnet tights from the desk, then crouches between my legs. I watch curiously as he slips them over my feet, but he pauses when he notices the scars on my ankle, and panic strikes me.

"What are you doing?" I manage to breathe out, my voice barely audible, but it makes him withdraw from his lingering thoughts.

"Like I said, I do whatever the fuck I want, and I get whatever the fuck I want," he responds calmly, his wicked gaze fixed on the movement of the nets ascending up my smooth legs.

"I wonder how it feels when the big bad monster isn't getting the pussy that he desperately wants," I taunt.

He stops, his eyes flickering up toward mine, a sinister aura in them and I instantly regret my words.

Without warning, he aggressively spreads my knees wide apart with his hands. Before I can stop him, he dips his head, and his pierced tongue moves harshly over the ladder of fresh slices on my inner thighs, punishing me for my backchat.

My eyes roll and I groan loudly from the pain, my hand instantly latching onto his black, soft hair, in a pathetic attempt to stop him, but he persists in his untamed movements, sucking on the wounds and biting them to inflict immense discomfort. He edges toward my core, and I begin to pulse with need.

With a sudden motion, he plunges his face into my panties, aggressively devouring me through the fabric. My head snaps back, a loud gasp tearing from my throat and my legs shudder involuntarily from the intense violation. The heat of his tongue and piercing working in unison as he savagely gnaws on my pussy lips like a wild beast tearing into flesh, sets me on fire. My grip on his hair tightens, as his hands move to my inner thighs, spreading me wider while he digs his fingers into my cuts causing a delicious blend of pain and pleasure that electrifies my senses.

His mouth detects my swollen, aching bud, and he starts to suck on it through the delicate lace, igniting a fiery sensation that consumes my entire being.

Oh god, please don't come. Don't come when he's eating you out through your fucking panties. Please goddamit! I plea with myself, holding onto everything I have.

I start hyperventilating, the overwhelming feeling of bliss building inside of me. I can't control it—his mouth is too skilled.

Too wild.

He's too good.

Fuck, I'm going to come!

When he abruptly stops, I tilt my head forward, staring down at the back of his head with expanded eyes, my breathing frantic, my clit one flick away with his tongue from an earthshattering climax.

"It seems the pussy I desperately want is betraying her owner," he murmurs over my throbbing core, his tone detached.

In my dazed state he rises suddenly, his fingers digging into my wounds, adding to the intoxicating agony that causes me to hiss, while his other hand sneaks into the back of my hair, yanking it back forcefully.

Then, he presses his lips against mine. "Don't. Ever," he growls, his frustration palpable, "Think you're the one in control, pretty girl." I pant through my nose as his fingertips scrape down my slices causing my brows to knit. "The only person in control here is me. If I weren't, I would have violently fucked every single tight hole you have from the moment I laid my fucking eyes on you."

I swallow hard, my body shaking for release as he continues. "You have no say in the matter. You're my little toy, my fucking game, and I'll keep playing with you, keep teasing you until I decide when it's time to take what the fuck I want."

He tilts his head to the side in an unnerving manner, breathing heavily, "I don't give a damn," he bites out fiercely, "how many times you say no. You're going to be mine and you fucking know it."

He suddenly releases me roughly, and as I lift my head, he takes steps backward, adjusting his hard cock in his tight jeans, and I watch the movement before our eyes lock in a silent battle. His gaze is wide, almost crazed, a threatening promise of the things to come between us.

When he finally turns his back to me, heading for the door, a surge of defensiveness and sexual refusal floods through me.

"You said you would leave me alone, Hell!" I shout after him, my angry voice echoing in the empty changing room.

He ignores me completely, his stride unbroken as he exits and the door swings shut behind him, leaving me on the edge of an orgasm on purpose. I let out a frustrated growl, hopping off the desk and my hands tremble as I pull my fishnets up my shaky legs before stepping into my knee-high, platformed black boots.

My mind floods to Hell, the way my body betrays me, desperate for him, despite my mind and soul screaming for distance. He knows I'm weak for him, just as he is for me, and he's now taking full advantage of the situation. The pull I have towards him is irresistible, making my body ache with desire and fear, a deadly concoction.

"Just one more time, Noir," it whispers every fucking time, but my mind warns me that Hell will drag me to a place of no return, a literal hell from which I may never escape, yet the strangest part is, I worry that I might not want to escape. I might get cozy from the warmth of his hellfire, finding my place in his insane world and willingly obey his every command.

Deep down, there's a nagging feeling I can't ignore: despite Hell's deranged behavior, I'm beginning to trust him against all odds. Trust him with my pain, with my pleasure, and with my safety, and it's a scary place to be.

He has a way of blurring all my internal suffering away, giving me respite just for a while as he taunts, pleasures, or hurts me. His twisted games and darkness somehow provide a distraction from the havoc of my thoughts just like my meds did. It's like he knows exactly how to pull me out of my spiraling mind and ground me in the present, even if the present is filled with his insanity. Maybe it's because he's never pretended to be anything other than what he is, unlike the other men I've unfortunately faced. From the first moment we met, he has shown his true self, and even during the mayhem of his actions, there's a strange consistency, even if it feels like he switches a lot, it makes me feel, against everything, that I can rely on him.

The way I feel safe when he watches me sleep from the window, the way my body responds to his touch, his obsession with me—all of it stirs something deep inside and for the first time in my life, I feel desired.

I know he is making it clear that this might be purely sexual; the way he talks and manhandles me tells me he wants to fuck the life out of me, but there's more to his obsession. It's not just about having me and using me like everyone else has; he wants all of me. I just can't afford to get attached to him or anyone else; it's far too dangerous for everyone.

Fuck this is toxic. Yet here I am, stuck in this place with him every day, feeling my will weaken with each passing second and I know it's only a matter of time before I break and give in to Hell's wicked ways. I just dread how much I'll enjoy every second of his sweet depravity. I worry that once I get a taste of Hell, there's no going back to any kind of innocence. I will be officially corrupt.

When I have tied the laces, I finally head for the main tent to preform and watch tonight's show.

The night is thick with anticipation as I perch high above the crowd on the trapeze platform. The big top of the Circus loom's around me, the smell of smoke mingles with the faint tang of sweat and fear. Madame's voice booms through the tent from the speakers, introducing my act. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for a brand-new chilling performance that will haunt your dreams! Presenting Noir, our broken dolly!"

The music starts and I take a deep breath before I leap from the platform, my body arching gracefully through the air. The audience gasps as I catch the trapeze bar. Swinging back and forth, I gain momentum, each one higher and faster than the last, eyes glued to my every move.

Releasing the bar, I soar and reach out to grasp a pair of red aerial silks hanging from the rafters. The silks twist around my wrists, and I began to climb, feeling my muscles straining. The silks seem to come alive as they wrap around my limbs and the spotlight follows my every move as I reach the pinnacle of the tent. I hang upside down for a moment, my hair cascading like a light waterfall. With a sudden burst of energy, I begin my descent, spinning and twirling down the silks in a blur of motion.

They create a visual of black and red, but as I near the ground, I stop abruptly, hanging mere inches from the floor. The tent is plunged into darkness, and for a heartbeat, all is still. Then, a circle of fire ignites around me, the flames dancing wildly.

With a flick of my fingers, the flames grow higher, the fire following my every command, then I begin to spin once more. The flames lick at my skin, but I remain unaffected, acting like a master of the inferno as I perform daring flips and spins in the centre.

As my performance reaches its climax, I release the silks and land in the center of the burning ring. The flames roar higher when I raise my arms. My chest heaves until the fire dies down, leaving only a faint glow on the ground. I take a deep bow, my eyes meeting those in the front row and as I stand upright, Madame's voice booms through the speaker once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for Noir, our broken dolly!"

The crowd roars, their applause echoing through the tent and just as it reaches its peak, suddenly red paint is released from above me, splashing down over me and almost catching me off guard. The crimson liquid flows over my body, mixing with my sweat and smudging my makeup, creating the illusion of blood. I stand there, drenched in it, the paint dripping from my hair and tutu, pooling at my feet like a crimson river.

My eyes met the audience's once more, a chilling smile playing on my lips, and I give one last, slow bow before finally, heading back to the changing rooms again to fix myself.

After washing myself down as much as I could and getting changed, I find a seat in the crowd beside Madame at the front row.

She nods at me approvingly, "You did well, Noir. The crowd loved you, as predicted."

"Thank you," I reply, my voice hoarse as I settle into my seat, ready to watch the rest of the show unfold.

Blush and a few other girls take the stage next, their costumes glittering under the spotlight. They move with grace, performing fire-breathing and eating acts that stun me. The flames dance around them, and the audience watch in awe until Blush exhales a plume of fire so close to the crowd that they are forced to bow backward, almost burning them alive.

Next up is a man I have never seen before, dressed as a creepy looking clown, who confidently walks to the center of the arena, a long, gleaming sword held in his hand. He opens his mouth and slowly slides the blade down his throat. The tent is silent, all eyes fixated on him and the whole thing makes my stomach turn into knots, but with ease, he withdraws the sword and takes a bow.

Next, a pair of clumsy clowns stumble into the ring, meeting the other one, their makeup smeared and their eyes hollow. They juggle sharp knives, their movements crazy, keeping me on the edge of my seat until one slips, the knife slicing through the air and embedding itself into the other's arm. Blood spurts pulling horrified screams from the crowd, yet the injured clown just lets out a high-pitched giggle, yanking the blade free and continuing the act as if nothing had happened. What the fuck.

The tension in the tent grows when one of the girls are brought out and strapped forcefully to a spinning wheel by another two clowns. The spotlight focuses on her, illuminating her anxious face which is probably fake. The man who swallowed the sword now holds a set of axes; his expression emotionless and as the wheel starts to spin rapidly, he launches the axes at her causing my toes to curl. Each one lands dangerously close, but luckily never touching her. The crowd hold their breath with every throw just as I fucking do, only exhaling when the act is finally finished.

I lean closer to Madame, whispering, "I wonder how they manage to stay so calm when they're doing all of this."

Madame smiles faintly, her eyes never leaving the ring. "Years of practice, trust, and a lot of insanity. It takes a certain kind of person to thrive here, darling."

When the ring is cleared, a dark, huge figure enters from the shadows, each step he takes makes the ground thump beneath him. His body is a patchwork of horrific scars and stitches and chains rattle around his ankles as he is led into the ring, his black eyes simmering with rage. On the other end of the chain is Hell and he has them tightly wrapped around his strong, tattooed arms in an attempt to control him.

As my gaze lingers on his shackled ankles, a sense of sadness washes over me, sparking my own harrowing memories of how I was once chained in the same fucked-up way.

Madame leans in beside me, catching my attention, "He is Hell's pet. The Monster."

My brows pinch as I turn my head, "Pet?" I respond with a shudder. She gives a small nod before looking forward, "He is the only person in this place who is able to control him."

The ringmaster's voice booms through the speakers, "Feast your eyes upon The Monster! Who here is brave enough to tame him?"

A volunteer in the front row is chosen, a trembling old man reluctantly stepping forward and The Monster roars, the sound vibrating through the tent, making my body tense. The man is handed a whip, his face pale with fear and he cracks it once in a stupid attempt to assert control.

The Monster lunges forward, chains snapping and dragging Hell forward, his eyes burning with murder. The lights suddenly flicker, then plunge the tent into total pitch black. The screams that follow are piercing, a sound of bloodcurdling pain, but when the lights came back on, the ring is completely empty, and my mouth drops open in surprise.

As I observe all the performances, I can't help but reflect on my own place here in Oddity. The danger, the thrill, the constant dance with death—it is all amazing, but there is a dark feeling of the thought of being trapped in this place, also, Blush's words that this performance tonight is not even remotely as horrifying as Dark Night will be gnaws at me. How the fuck can it get any more terrifying than this?

After some other acts, I can sense the final act is approaching, and the anticipation in the air is electric; The Hollow's are about to take the stage with their motorcross bikes. The lights dim, and a hush falls over the crowd.

Suddenly, the roar of engines fill the tent, echoing like a thunderstorm and the spotlights swing around to show the Hollow's, helmetless and lacking safety, but I expect nothing less. Their painted faces and spiralled contacts glow with menace and every single one of them are shirtless, exposing their ripped, tattooed skin; all alike, yet so different from one another. They rev their bikes, the engines growling like caged beasts ready to be unleashed.

When they're ready, the Hollow's speed around the ring, weaving in and out with incredible speed. They perform deathly ramp tricks, soaring high into the air, twisting, and flipping through rings of fire. The heat is intense even from where I sit and with each leap they land with a perfect execution.

Next comes the death wheel, the massive rotating structure that the Hollow's use to defy death itself. They ride along the vertical walls of the wheel with speed, and it causes it to spin faster and faster. I hold my breath, the tension almost unbearable. One wrong move, one fucking slip, and it would all be over, but the Hollow's prove me wrong.

Then, the death dome is descended from the ceiling—a giant metal sphere with a skull logo. The Hollow's ride into the dome, their engines roaring even louder within the confined space. They circle inside, crisscrossing paths in a dizzying display while it flickers wildly with red lights and the dome pulses as they barely miss each other.

Suddenly, ascending from below the center of the death dome, bound and vulnerable, is Pearl. Her eyes wide, holding fear and defiance, her body rigid as the bikes speed around her. The roar of their engines are deafening, and the sight of Pearl in the middle of the chaos only adds an extra layer of tension.

The Hollow's continue their cruel stunts, weaving around her with terrifying perfection. As the act reaches its end, the Hollow's begin their finale, and the dome is engulfed in a ring of fire, the heat and light almost blinding. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it is over and the lights cut out, the fire dims and the engines cut off, leaving a silence in their wake.

When the lights are switched back on, The Hollow's and Pearl are no longer there, all that's left is a gust of dust and smoke.

The audience erupts and I find myself clapping along as well with a big smile on my face. As I think about my performance and everyone I watched tonight, I feel a small sense of pride inside of me that I am a part of this mad world.