Chapter 27

It's been a couple of days since I have been here and I'm alone in Hell's room. He said he had some things to take care of, which I understood, but my mind is stressing me out tonight. I stupidly start thinking about E and whether he's okay. I have been hiding inside this trailer, so I don't face him. I don't know why, but I feel like he needed that wake-up call. He can't keep up the threatening behavior just because he's not getting what he wants. He can't keep fucking these young girls. It's disgusting. I guess him putting his hands on Blush was the final line crossed. She holds no prisoners, and honestly, when I think about it, he's lucky. She kills for a living, and a bottle to the head was the least of his worries—and mine.

I just feel so disappointed, in him and in myself. It's really dragging me down tonight, making me wonder if I'm the problem. Did I drive him to this mad state of mind because of what I was doing with Hell? I feel a war inside me because I didn't feel like I was exactly his girlfriend, yet maybe I should have spoken to him more openly about things before I did what I did. As a friend at least.

"Or maybe he wasn't the problem after all." A voice whispers in my ear and my head snaps to the right.

"What?" I murmur.

"Maybe it's Hell. Maybe you chose the wrong man." The whisper responds.

"No, I…"

"I mean, Hell isn't much different to Kyro, right?"

Tears well up in my eyes and I shake my head.

"The way he abuses your body is just as bad as what they did to you."

"No, you're wrong." I mutter, my bottom lip trembling.

"No, you're wrong. You were conditioned to take abuse and now you accept it by disguising it as a form of pleasure because it's all you know.. "

A sob rises up my throat as I continue to cry.

"He is everything that you don't want or need. He weakens you. Kill him."

I slap my hands over my ears and squeeze me eyes shut, "No."

"Kill him before he kills you."

"No, he isn't like them."

"No, he's worse. Fucking kill him and get out of this place."

"Kill him!"

I shake my head frantically, "No!" I yell.

"Kill him!"

The whisper continues over and over again, repeating the same two words, growing louder in my ears and it drives me insane until I let out a high-pitched scream, jumping to my feet. In my crazed state, I grab my hoodie and head for the door. I swing it open until it hits the wall and I storm out of the trailer.

As I pace quickly over the gravel, I throw my hoodie on, my wide gaze fixed on the circus ahead, glowing from on the inside. When I enter the back entrance, I wipe the tears off of my face and head for Madame's chamber, hoping she will be there.

When I enter, luckily I spot her sitting behind her desk, a glass of wine in her hand as she smokes a cigarette with her head tilted back. I stop in the middle of the room, and she slowly lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine.

"Noir," she says with a soft smile before gesturing to the seat opposite her. "Take a seat."

As always, somehow, I feel strangely calm in Madame's presence and I shuffle forward, tugging my sleeves further down my arms. She sits upright, placing her glass on the desk, and I sit in the chair.

"What can I help you with, darling?" she says in a motherly tone that almost makes me burst into tears.

I lower my head, trying to push the thoughts away, and I fiddle with my fingers.

"Have you been crying, Noir? It's not Hell, is it?"

I shake my head, "No," I say and when I lift my watery eyes to hers, she scans them with genuine concern. "I'm just having a rough night. It's a lot to take in, you know? After Dark Night."

She gives a small nod of understanding. "I get it, but you'll get used to it."

She gradually stands, walking around the desk with purposeful steps before stopping in front of me and leaning against it.

"Eli gave me the keys to your trailer today," she says, and my brows pinch in confusion. "He didn't tell you he was leaving?" she asks.

I shake my head once before wiping my nose with my sleeve. "No, he didn't."

My heart aches in my chest, and I don't know why. My emotions are all over the place right now, reminding me why I came here in the first place.

"Do you guys have access to a doctor?"

She tilts her head to the side with perplexity before nodding. "What do you need?"

"Anti-depressants," I answer, my voice unwavering.

Her eyes scan the length of me, not in a judgmental way, but she gives another nod when her gaze returns to mine. "Of course, I'll have him drop some off."

I feel my shoulders relax for the first time today as I lower my eyes.

"Most people here don't try to tame their mental state of minds, Noir. We simply embrace the madness," she admits almost proudly, and my eyes flick up to hers.

"The difference between me and everyone else here, Madame, is that you're better off having me in my sane madness than in my insane madness, trust me. It's not very fun hallucinating and seeing your sister running around the carnival when she isn't actually here," I confess firmly.

She analyzes me briefly before drawing a deep breath and pushing away from the desk. I can't exactly tell her that the voices in my head are also telling me to kill Hell. I don't trust anyone here enough to let them see my vulnerabilities in that light.

"Where are you from, Noir?" She enquires as she takes a slow seat in her chair.

I feel anxiety tighten my chest, and I lie, "Erm, Vegas."

She raises her chin, as if she knows I am lying then moves her eyes to the bottle of red wine, lifting it and pouring some into a glass.

When she is finished, she lifts it and offers it to me, "Here is some of my anti-depressant."

A small smile plays on her lips, and it makes me grin slightly as I lean over, taking it from her hand. I bring it to my lips as I sit back in the chair, taking a big gulp. Once the alcohol hits the pit of my stomach, I sigh, relishing the warmth it brings.

"Are you staying with Hell now?" She asks curiously and I look at her before giving a small nod in response. "For now."

I see another smirk on her lips as she takes a long sip of wine. "It's nice to see him happy," she says, lowering the glass.

"Happy?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

Her eyes swing to mine before she smiles widely. "That's probably the wrong word," she admits with a soft chuckle. "You know what I mean."

I give her a slow nod before I stand from the chair, leaning over to place my half-empty glass of wine on the desk. "Well, I better get going," I say, turning to leave.

"Noir…" I stop in my stride when she says my name and glance over my shoulder at her.

She stands and walks toward me, speaking with genuine concern. "I hired you because you're not only an amazing dancer, but you radiate a darkness that fits in perfectly here. I know that may feel like a curse rather than a blessing, but here, it's not. We accept you for all that you are. Inside and out."

Her words make me turn around, facing her fully and she continues, "We may not know each other well yet, but we are one big crazy family. All of us. And if you ever need me, I am here. I care about every single one of you, even with what we do here."

I lower my eyes, pondering because what she said strikes a chord deep within my soul. When I have finished processing her words, I lift my head, my eyes finding hers.

"Thank you," I say gently, showing my gratitude.

She gives a small nod in return, then I turn to leave, feeling a strange sense of belonging that I haven't felt in a long time. As I walk away, her words echo in my mind, making me realise that even in the darkest places, there can be light and acceptance.

Not feeling ready to go back to the trailer, I head to the silent carnival. The dim surroundings of this terrifying place bring a strange sense of calm to my chaotic mind. The eerie stillness blurs out all the intrusive thoughts as I focus on the possibility of something jumping out at me. After some time of aimless strolling through the vast, deserted area, I find myself stopping a short distance away from the carousel with a sign saying, "Ride closed." I tilt my head to the side, gazing at it before taking gentle paces forward.

I step up to the platform, my hand grasping one of the cold poles attached to a skeleton horse. I lightly graze my fingers over the bones, lost in thought. Vague memories of my mom bringing me to places like this surface, though they were, of course, not horror-themed.

When she was alive, it was her ultimate goal to give me everything. She wanted to fill my head with beautiful memories and ensure I had a childhood I could reflect on and smile about. She wanted me to have the best. She pushed me to bring my talents to life, entering me into contests, and when I won, she would shower me with love and tell me how proud she was. She was the perfect mother.

Her laughter, her encouragement, the way she made me feel like I could conquer the world, the way her love seeped into my bones—those memories are bittersweet now and they are the total opposite of the darkness that envelops me, both in this carnival and in my life.

When my mom and I were in that car crash, I lost her, and my life spiralled into a living nightmare. I ended up being nothing but a slave to my stepfather. When she was alive, he wasn't the cruel man he became, that I knew of anyway. We didn't exactly have a father-and-daughter relationship, but he also didn't treat me like he did the moment she wasn't here. Every word, every touch was so full of hatred, and I couldn't understand why. What had I done that was so wrong? I didn't cause that crash, and he never blamed me for it either. I used to scream at him, begging for answers, but he would just respond with meaningless phrases that confused me. They didn't explain shit to my innocent mind. The only thing I knew from his words was that he despised me and my mom suddenly. He said I was going to be trained to be the perfect little whore and be sold to a man or men as brutal as he was so I could suffer for the rest of my life.

Over the years, I realized everyone who knew me, and my mom thought I had died in that crash as well. He did something to convince the world that we were both dead, but in the shadows, he was killing me himself—physically and mentally. Before I left, I was months away from being "perfect" for my next abuser. Around one year before I escaped, I realized someone was in the room beside me, another girl, and I would speak to her through the thin walls. She told me she was my half-sister on my dad's side that I never knew about. I was initially shocked because I never really knew my father, but deep down, it didn't surprise me. From the moment my mom passed, I realized there were so many secrets being held; I was presumed dead, I had a secret sister, and I am sure there is a lot more.

That crash had devastated my entire world, but it was the aftermath that truly broke me. My stepfather's change into an evil bastard was swift and brutal. He became a man I didn't recognize. His cruelty was endless, the physical abuse horrific, but it was the mental suffering that left the deepest wounds. He would whisper vile things in my ear, breaking down my soul piece by piece. I was isolated, cut off from the world, and forced to accept his twisted form of "training."

The discovery of my half-sister was a spark of light in the darkness. She was a mirror of my own suffering, and our conversations through the walls became a lifeline.

I wish I could find her. The day she got me out of there is all a blur. I can only remember the bedroom door swinging open, the sudden rush of freedom as the fresh air touched my skin for the first time in years. I remember running through the dark woods, the branches clawing at my clothes and skin, his dogs barking in the background. She screamed at me to go the other way from a distance, and I regret listening to her because I escaped that night, but I don't know if she ever did.

I never got the chance to hug her, to touch her, to thank her for saving my life. Everything happened so fucking fast. One moment we were prisoners, and the next, we were running for our lives. I can still hear her voice, urgent and desperate in my ears, urging me to keep going, to not look back. But I did look back, and the image of her fading into the night still haunts me.

I wish there were some way to know if he still has her, if she's still suffering under his control. I owe her my freedom, and the guilt of leaving her behind is a heavy burden to bear.

If I were strong enough, and if it weren't just me, I would fight him. I would do anything in my power to take him down, but I just don't hold that power. He will always be above me, someone I can't escape. He was always stronger than me, both physically and mentally. There is no fucking comparison. The thought of confronting him fills me with a mix of rage and helplessness. I can only imagine how furious he was when he discovered I had escaped.

As I walk around the carousel, I take in the vintage-looking painted decor, the way they peel and crack, revealing the aged wood beneath with every slow step I take. Suddenly, I feel the ride dip on the other side as if someone has stepped on it as well, and I freeze. My heart pounds in my chest as everything goes still. Tiptoeing, I begin to creep around it, peeking around the corners, but when I don't find anything, I stop, letting out a tense breath.

The moment I turn, a figure stands in front of me, and I scream. His hand slaps over my mouth, pinning me against the carousel, and my eyes swing upward to see Hell's spiraling orbs. My body relaxes instantly, and he removes his hand only to grab my throat with a firm grip.

He tilts my head back, dipping down to bring his lips close to mine. "Hello, my pretty girl. What are you doing here all alone?" he asks with a deep murmur.

My eyes ease, my stomach fluttering and I whisper in response, "I just needed to clear my head."

His eyes scan mine for a moment before he gives a small nod, slowly releasing me. As I stay leaning against the carousel, I observe him turn his back to me, wandering around between two horses. "You know this shit is haunted, don't you?" he states calmly.

I roll my eyes, "There's no such thing as ghosts, Hell."

He stops and side-eyes me, "I wouldn't be so sure about that, Dolly." As I stay silent, he walks around a little more. "This carousel has been around for over a century. It's been through wars, it's been through fires, people have died on this fucking thing in brutal ways. Many years ago, they used to tie people to it as it rotated and left them there to rot until their last breath," he explains, and my eyes widen.

He turns to look at me and offers me his hand. I push myself away from the wood and take cautious steps forward, sliding my hand into his. He yanks me toward him, my front crashing into his, and he grabs my waist, lifting me onto one of the horses.

He mounts the back behind me, and I side-eye him as I wrap my hands around the pole. When he is comfortable, he moves his warm hands up my thighs, sending shivers through me, then cloaks my midsection with his strong arms. I melt against him, feeling safe, my head resting back against his chest, and he turns his head to look down at me.

"They closed it around ten years ago because strange shit started to happen," he continues.

I smirk, "Strange shit? Like what?" I query, not believing a word of it.

"People reported seeing figures moving around, hearing whispers that weren't there. Some even said they felt cold fingers touching them when no one else was around. Kids were fucking pushed off the horses, bones broken. And then there were the vanishes. A few workers went missing, never to be seen again. The last straw was when a child disappeared while riding this carousel. After that, they shut it down for good."

I inhale deeply wrapping my arms around his, "That sounds like just typical ghost stories to me, Hell."

He gently runs his nose up my ear before responding into it, "There's always some fucking truth behind all stories, Little Dolly."

"That's true, but nothing is as terrifying as actual reality," I confess, my voice barely a whisper. He stills, the weight of my words hanging in the air between us.

After a moment of silence, he finally speaks again. "What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

The ache to reveal everything to him hurts me, and I ponder opening up to him just a little bit. "My sister," I whisper, my eyes threatening to water. "I'm finding it hard being here. I can't settle because I know I need to find her."

"Well, where is she?" he asks, and I shrug my shoulders with a sniffle. "I don't know."

I can sense his confusion. "Do you want me to find her?"

My brows knit, and I turn my head until our eyes meet. As my gaze wanders over his painted face, I worry that any information I give him might lead him to Kyro.

"How could you do that when I don't even know where she is?" I lie. I could be sending him on a hunt for someone who is still in that vile man's hands, but I am almost tempted to let him because I am so fucking desperate.

"All I need is a name, Dolly." His warm breath kisses my lips as the words escape him.

"Arabella," I say without thinking straight, but he gives a simple nod. "Anything else?"

Unfortunately, there isn't anything else. I don't even know if she has the same last name as me. I don't know where she is from. Changing my mind and shutting down, I give a small headshake. "There isn't. Just don't worry about it, Hell. I'm sure I will find her one day," I say while looking away. "Or maybe I have to accept I have lost her forever."

"I'll do what I can for you, Noir," he promises, and I smile softly.

"You lost someone close to you recently, right?"

When I feel his body tighten behind me, I warily turn my head until I am looking up at him again, and his eyes flash to mine.

"What happened?" I ask.

He inhales before responding, "He was killed."

As he faces aside, I can tell it's something that still bothers him, a wound that hasn't healed.

"Did you find who did it?" I question, and he shakes his head, his eyes not meeting mine. "No."

I can only imagine how it eats away at him, not getting revenge on someone who took something from him. Hell likes control. He likes answers. He is so straightforward and doesn't pretend to be something he isn't that he probably expects the same in return. Mixing his cousin's murder with him knowing I am holding secrets; I can only imagine it's driving him insane, and I feel so guilty for it.

If I don't leave this place, and I choose to stay with him, I can only hope that one day, I will find the confidence to open up to him. I lift my hand, bringing it to his cheek, turning him to face me. As I glance at his lips, he dips down, crashing them against mine. His hand finds my throat as he devours my mouth, making my feelings for him grow stronger with each stroke of his tongue. He tastes like sin, a toxic pleasure that I can't resist. He is a drug, potent and addictive. I can't get e-fucking-nough.

When his other hand trails down the front of my body, I moan into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his feral kiss. As soon as he reaches my jeans, he flicks open the button, dragging down the zipper. Without hesitation, he slides his big, warm hand down into my panties. My stomach somersaults from the sensation as his fingers press firmly between my pussy lips, rubbing from my entrance up to my clit repeatedly and roughly. His fingers are so fucking skilled, knowing exactly how to drive me wild.

When he suddenly stops, he tears his lips away from mine, leaving me breathless and tingling. "I don't know about you, but I need a violent fucking. I'm taking you home to absolutely shatter that perfect cunt in a way it deserves," he growls against my lips.

With a swift motion, he pulls his hand out of my panties, the sudden absence of his touch leaving me aching for more, but I don't argue. I allow him to pull me away from the horse, my legs still trembling and his grip on my hand is firm, and possessive, as he drags me back home.