Page 4 of Carnival

Rose

I ’ve never been a heavy sleeper. It’s most likely due to the fact that my life in the system was terrible, and I always had to sleep with one eye open. It followed me into adulthood, and it didn’t help that my early university days were filled with me high on caffeine, unable to sleep properly.

Aria’s been out for a while. Given how long I’d been living with her, I’m able to recognize her footsteps in my sleep.

Mainly because she’s not that easy on her feet.

She can be when she wants to, but that’s strictly reserved for the missions she goes on with Arlo.

Other than that, she doesn’t care if anyone’s sleeping; she walks in, and you’d think it’s an elephant coming through the doors.

That’s why I’m terrified.

My eyes are closed shut as I’m turned to face the door. However, I can sense something – someone behind me. It’s faint, and if I were a heavy sleeper, it never would have woken me up. The breathing is soft and at a safer distance from me. But I’m too confused.

How did they get in?

I could’ve sworn all the windows were closed.

The paralyzing fear creeps up my neck as I clutch the gun under my pillow. For the first time, I’m cussing myself out. Arlo and Aria offered to teach me how to shoot and defend myself. Each and every time I rejected their offers, thinking I’d never need to use any sort of weapons.

My blood runs cold as soft footsteps inch closer to the bed.

It’s maybe a couple of short steps, and there’s still some distance between us.

Whoever this is, they know I’m awake. The trembling of my body gives it away, as well as the uneven breathing.

It’s only a matter of time before they do whatever it is they came here to do.

Their breathing is soft, almost like they’re trying to conceal themselves entirely.

But I hear them. I can hear the wood slightly creak under their feet as they make another step forward.

I grip my hand around the gun under the pillow, bracing myself.

If it's a short distance, there’s only a slight possibility I’ll miss them.

I can’t have that much shit luck, can I?

An eerie sensation runs down my body, my feet getting stone cold.

It’s a fairly warm evening, yet all I can feel is immense cold.

My bones are rigid, and I’m praying Aria gets home soon.

Despite that, I know that I can’t count on her to bail me out of shitty situations all the time.

Besides, whoever this is, they’re here for me.

Slowly, and as silently as possible, I start to pull my hand from under the pillow. The gun is safely tucked in my hand, and if it goes well, I’ll spook them and never have to use it. But the moment I start to pull it again, a loud chuckle reverberates through the room.

My body stiffens and my blood runs cold. A couple of sweat droplets slide down my forehead, but it’s cold sweat, and by now, I’m panicking internally.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Let go of the gun.’’

A small gasp slips from me. It’s a man. And somehow, the voice is rather familiar. It’s low, deep, and gravelly, and it sends chills down my spine. It’s unique, a little raspy, and definitely too husky. It doesn’t seem like it’s on purpose, though, since he isn’t even trying to whisper.

I have two options.

Either let go of the gun and pray that whatever he does to me doesn’t leave me permanently scarred or dead, or take the risk of shoving the gun in his face, given that I can almost feel his breath down my neck.

With no time to spare, I choose the second option, pulling the gun out and turning around. I sit up quickly and aim the gun in his face, only for my eyes to widen significantly. I’m like a deer stuck in headlights, barely breathing and unable to move.

It’s him.

The clown killer.

The man I lost my virginity to.

In the bedroom of the small house Aria and I rented.

The clown mask on his face is still as I remember.

It’s white, with the left part of it slightly cracked.

The details on the mask are something I don’t remember from the first time I saw him, but now, it’s all that I can think about.

A red, almost blood-shade color is elongating the lips of the mask, making it way creepier than a normal clown mask would be.

The same color is around his eyes, and somehow, the scarlet makes his dark eyes stand out even more.

I can’t miss the insanity within the depths of the brown.

His pupils are dilated, and he looks like he’s about to pounce on me.

The moment he sees the gun pointed at him, a flash of excitement runs through his eyes before it disappears, leaving me to wonder if it was just a fragment of my imagination or if it was real.

My breath hitches in my throat, and it slowly starts closing.

My mouth is parted, lips dry, and I can barely breathe.

He’s too close. I didn’t anticipate the distance between the bed and him would be mere inches.

The hand that’s holding the gun trembles a little as the barrel is pressed into his shoulder.

“You’re trembling. Did I scare you?”

The mockery in his tone is unmistakable. I could practically feel a smirk hidden behind the mask, and although he has a gun pressed against his shoulder, he doesn’t try to move out of the way. If anything, he leans further into the barrel.

As if to taunt me. To challenge me. To dare me to shoot him.

“Who are you?”

My voice is barely above a whisper, and the cracks are undeniable. My jaw trembles, and I don’t know what to do. My mind is screaming for me to either whack the side of his head with the gun or simply pull the trigger, but my body isn’t complying. I remain sitting on the bed, frozen.

“Let’s not play this game, Rose,’’ he chuckles, managing to send another wave of chills down my spine. “We both know you know who I am.’’

I swallow. “The man who’s been killing all those people.’’

“More or less.’’

“What does that even mean?”

“Patience, Rose. You’ll find out all in due time. For now, let’s stick to the current topic. You do know who I am beneath this mask; all you have to do is figure it out.’’

My brows are slightly narrow. The tone in his voice suggests he’s mocking me, again, but at the same time, it holds some sort of certainty.

As if we’d met before. As if we’d spoken before, and neither of us means that night four years ago.

Sometime before that. But my mind seems to have blocked it entirely because the more I try to remember, the foggier my memory gets.

A knot forms in my throat, and I start feeling too suffocated. My skin is filled with goosebumps, and my heart is racing at a rapid speed. The fear all but consumes me, and every thought is out the window. All I think about is how to survive this, how not to die.

“You don’t remember me, do you, Rose?” He hums, though I can still distinguish the slight mockery in his tone. His head cocks to the side, his free hand gripping the barrel of the gun. Slowly, while looking straight into my eyes, he moves it and presses it right between his eyes.

A manic expression flashes in his eyes, a total opposite of the pure petrification in mine. My hand seems to tremble more, and I can’t pull it back. He’s gripping my wrist tightly enough so I can’t move it.

“I’m wounded,’’ he whispers. “Truly. All I wanted was for you to remember me. But no, you had to ruin all of this. But… that’s okay. I’ll figure out a new game for us to play.’’

“A game?” I whisper back, not trusting my voice.

He nods slightly. “Correct, a game.’’

“Why?” I ask, my voice squeaky, cracking slightly. “I... I don’t know you, except…’’

“No, Rose,’’ he chuckles. “I don’t mean the night I took your virginity, which was delicious, by the way, but no. You know me from somewhere else, and I cannot wait for you to finally remember it.’’

“Why are you doing this to me?”

I’m on the brink of tears, my eyes getting glossy and my bottom lip trembling. A wave of terror washes over me as I see his brown eyes darken a shade, an intensity I haven’t seen in them yet. It’s deep, dark, and all-consuming, threatening to swallow me whole.

“Because, my dear Rose,’’ he murmurs, and a low chuckle follows. “You came looking for the monster. You’ve found it. Now, run.’’

He grabs the gun from my hands and tosses it aside.

Something in the way he spoke to me gave no room for negotiations.

Instead of figuring out what exactly he means, I immediately bolt out of the bed.

My bones are frozen, making it more difficult to move.

But I don’t give up as I leave the bedroom, barefoot and in some thin pajamas.

The moment I swing the front door open, I run outside.

His deep, low laugh follows me as I run, and that’s when I start mentally cussing Aria out.

She wanted us to get accommodations closest to the carnival, but that means that it’s in the middle of nowhere. As in, the only thing visible around me is acres and acres of woods. And it’s too late; who knows what lurks in the shadows?

Well, whatever monsters lurk in there, they can’t possibly be worse than the man chasing me.