Page 21 of Chalk Outline

I grab the pocket knife from the old wooden box under my bed and stuff it in my pocket. The lid is broken, but it’s the only placeI can hide it from the slew of scumbags who work in the circus. Sleight of hand and pickpocketing often go hand in hand. It’s the only present Mom ever gave me that I remember. She knew what kind of creeps wandered inside, but never had it in her to leave.

One of the comic books Dad gave me last year leans against the wall. In case of an emergency, our pocket change is hidden inside. I tuck the box closer, ensuring it stays in place before straightening up.

Mom is passed out from the lines she sniffed in the bathroom. Her brown strands are splayed across the table. I step out of our cramped trailer house and glance at her one last time before I shut the door behind me. I don’t know why she tries to hide it when it’s obvious she’s been using for years.

Maybe she’s ashamed?

In all fairness, I don’t think she even remembers how jittery she became a few times, how her hallucinations worsened in the past when paranoia kicked in, and she needed a fix. I had to be the one to find it for her and inject that poison into her vein.

Not anymore.

I make sure she only takes small doses when needed and monitor her addiction to keep her alive. Her fleeting memories worsen each day. It’s even harder to watch her waste away.

Dad disappears more often than not, and when he’s gone for long stretches, I know he’s probably in prison, which is funny because I feel like I’m the one in prison.

He is so fucking useless.

The wet grass beneath the soles of my shoes guides me as I stroll around the row of trailers, making my way to the tents and food vendors.

Each act has its own tent, and the performers live here, including me. I have lived in the circus my whole life. This place is a nightmare that no kid will ever understand because theycome here for the thrill, happy smiles, and sometimes tears when they get scared, but eventually, they leave. I get to stay. Completely deserted. And I always have to watch my back because no one else will.

The roar of dirt bike engines echoes across the circus. The motocross shows are the city’s most anticipated events, especially when the Globe of Death is part of the act.

I move past Mute. He never speaks to anyone and occasionally communicates through sign language, which I have learned to pick up here and there. I always watch him exercise his calisthenics techniques and mimic him from afar. He’s neither the friendliest nor the worst company around here. For me, he’s a calm and inviting distraction.

Golden lights illuminate the entire area as night falls.

Dread fills me when I spot the circus clowns in the distance, skipping through the crowd with their creepy masks. They always harass me. In seconds, they snatch the little I have left in my pockets, call me names, and threaten me because they know I’m not violent like them.

My hands are always tied. No one can see it, but it’s there. Those invisible handcuffs dig into my skin, bruising my wrists before the wounds have the chance to heal.

The clowns head for their tents, and I exhale a sigh of relief, but pause when I see Dick Graves, the owner of this hundred-acre property.

I’ve seen cops coming to the circus doing business with Dick. He’s got connections everywhere. And they don’t strike me as the decent type, probably dirty cops who turn a blind eye every chance they get.

He walks with that insatiable gaze, eyeing the crowd as they scatter to different tents, especially the little kids and teenagers.

The show is about to begin, and moral depravity spreads across every part of the circus.

I’ve heard stories about his involvement with human traffickers from the clowns. He captures the victims, and they collect. Still, I’ve never seen it happen around here. I do my best to keep him occupied during opening hours, but sometimes I just want to run as far away from him as possible.

Every chance he gets, he tries to convince me that I need him.

“Everyone ditches you like you’re filthy garbage they forgot to dispose of. Then, they remember when it starts to smell. You’re invisible, Reeve. But I see you.” I’ve heard him say it one too many times. At some point, it became a ringing in my ear.

I want to get out of here, but don’t want to leave Mom. I’ve tried to convince her dozens of times, but she never listens. It’s as if she wants to perish in this wretched place.

I hate it here.

I hate my life.

What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to bear this weight on my shoulders? It feels like we’re on a different planet, yet chaotic just as much.

“Mommy!” A little boy yells, his eyes brimming with tears. “Mommy!”

Dick snaps his head in his direction.

Not on my watch, Dick.