2 years later: Connecticut 1891
"Tae! Why don't you get me another glass of whisky?" Daddy slurred with a laugh, drunkenly swishing his empty glass around. His friends all chuckled and made comments about how I had grown to be the "maid" of the household. I only stared at them all with a burning feeling of disdain in my gut. My nanny had told me that it's not good to hate because hate leads to anger and anger causes people to do bad things... but, oh heavens! I was about ready to scream at one of these good-for-nothings!
I stood in the darkest corner of the room, closest to my father. Quietly, with my hands behind my back, I stepped out and approached the drunken man. I took his glass and, as quickly as I could, I left to get the whisky bottle.
When I came back, Daddy and his friends were laughing harder than before. I didn't really care what they were laughing about, I just wanted to get my task done so I could return to the corner and never be seen again.
I set Daddy's glass on the coffee table and popped open the bottle, but just before I was about to pour it, Daddy made a noise in surprise, as if he remembered something important and turned to his imps that he calls "friends".
"Wait! Everybody! Tae can do a trick for us! Watch!"
I looked at my father with a mixture of outrage and bewilderment; the bottle in my hands tilted halfway as I was about to pour. He smiled at me with that toxic grin of his, "Go on sweetie! Do your trick!" he ordered happily. I hesitated at first glaring at him as nonchalantly as possible, wondering why he would put me in the spotlight for a small trick that I was barely even mastering, but once I realised that all of his friends' eyes were on me; I gave in to the overpowering pressure.
I gulped nervously and set the bottle on the table, my hands becoming clammy from the sudden wave of anxiety. I left quickly to get a stool, and when I came back, my Dad's friends were still quiet in anticipation for what I was about to do. I could cut the tension with a knife and even then, it wouldn't even rip.
I set the stool on the floor, and as carefully as possible, I put the glass between my toes then placed my hands firmly on the stool. I took a deep breath to try and calm my beating heart that was about to burst out of my chest.
Slowly and carefully, I raised my body up over my head into quite the messiest handstand. His friends exclaimed in awe and smiled in astonishment. I still don't see why they were so amazed, the position I was in wasn't the most extravagant sight to see; with my hair falling into my reddening face and my legs about as straight as a winding road.
However, my trick wasn't complete, so, with a deep breath, I began to lean back slightly and bend my elbows, straining from the amount of strength that I needed but didn't have, preparing myself for the next step in this stunt that I mastered only once before. I took in another breath to relax, before slowly lowering my feet in front of my face; far enough to see the glass between my toes.
Dad's friends went silent, waiting to see what I was going to do. I picked the opened whisky bottle with my empty foot, and, as carefully as possible despite my shaking limbs, I poured the alcohol into the glass and gave it to Dad.
He took it into his hand and gave me a proud look, before motioning with his hands towards me and giving his friends an, "I'm better than you." look. His friends clapped and cheered for me as I clumsily returned to my feet, completely out of breath, my heart beating rapidly, and sweat beginning to form along with an embarrassed blush.
"My my, Charles! Your daughter is oddly talented for her age. Can she do anything else?" Mr Conan, one of Dad's more "serious" gimp-friends remarked. Mr Conan is a businessman; he goes door-to-door trying to get people to create accounts at the bank he works with... I don't know the exact name of it, and truth be told... I don't care.
"Yes, actually! Tae' can do all sorts of queer things!" Dad answers his friend, smiling drunkenly. I stalk back to the shadows and sit down; I didn't want to be a part of this conversation, despite it being about me.
"Oh really? What sort of things?" Mrs Samson asks, crossing her legs and leaning her oh-so-delicate chin on her pristine knuckles. Dad looked at her as if he were in a business like Mr Conan, although he hasn't been employed since the carriage accident two years ago. Frankly, he's never been the same since then.
"She can mimic animal noises and some people too," Dad explained with his proud tone again, taking a sip of the whisky I poured for him. He's usually not this proud of my freakish abilities; he's usually disappointed and does his best to hide me from the world. Little does he know that I can probably do a lot more than he thinks.
"I would certainly like to hear that." Mr Conan raised his eyebrow in interest and smiled at me. I didn't smile back. Dad smiled slyly at his friend before ordering me to do yet another pointless task that would end up only serving as the subject of conversation.
"Tae dear, mimic Mr Conan here."
"Yes, father," I answered, although Mr Conan's voice was escaping my lips instead of my own. His friends all exclaimed in awe at my mimicry; they smiled and laughed before commenting among themselves what they thought of the act. They all like it, and I slightly enjoyed the praise too; I'm usually never complimented. I was enjoying the attention until suddenly Mrs Samson said something I never dreamed of hearing.
"If only Brian were here... he'd pay a fine price for her to be on his show."
I looked up in surprise at the woman but she only smiled back at me as if being sold to a circus was a good thing. And even better; ever since the carriage accident, my Dad has been desperately greedy. If he even heard a rumour about a fancy, easy way to get more money, he's all there. Dad is a master manipulator when suckling people for their money... it's why we still have a decent house.
And now hearing the words, "a fine price", I immediately knew Dad was interested; he didn't care if it were his own daughter he was giving away for a fortune... he wanted the money and that's all that mattered.
"Oh really? And what kind of act would he give her?" Dad asked, leaning forward and interlocking his fingers. Just as I suspected; he was interested.
"Most likely a normal contortionist or a regular freak... all I know as that she would bring in a lot of money, especially since she's young and beautiful," Mrs Samson continued, before reaching towards the coffee table and taking a very unorthodox swig of her whisky. Dad nodded in interest.
I've heard a lot about Brian MacSeren's circus. I heard it was a very grand circus, with a classic, everyday-carnival theme. I'm not sure what it was called exactly, but I do know it has something to do with Heaven or angels; I'm not sure which. I've never personally met Mr MacSeren himself because he's either never invited to any of Dad's "parties" (if you can even call them parties), or he's too busy tending to his circus. I only hear about him from Dad's gossip with his friends, and even then he's only ever brought up as the butt of a joke so I don't know much about him other than he seems like a ridiculous fool.
As I thought about what it would be like to finally meet the ringmaster, I hadn't realised the conversation had faded into nothing but my thoughts, and eventually, I found myself alone within my wild imagination... I should've been paying attention... because if I had I probably would've heard the part where Dad said he would arrange for Brian to come over...
...
"Goodbye, Sophia! Bye Thomas! Have a lovely evening!" Dad yelled from the doorway. His friends waved back and walked home arm-in-arm in the dark. Dad shut the door and sighed drunkenly, before hobbling over to his chair and collapsing into it.
I shuffled awkwardly nearby and gazed at him, watching as he laid his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes, absolutely exhausted from the long day of doing nothing but drinking and talking.
"Tae... don't stare at me like that. You're creeping me out." He mumbled. I quickly shifted my eyes to the floor and guiltily apologised. However, I still had enough dignity within me to bring up a burning question on my mind.
"You're going to sell me to a circus?" I asked quietly. Dad flashed me an annoyed glance. He gave me an expression that was basically asking why I was even asking such a stupid question.
"You know Daddy need the money... Besides... You're a nuisance anyway who causes too much trouble," Dad explained, leaning his head back on the chair and closing his eyes again. His attitude and false accusation about me made me furrow my brows and seethe with anger; How dare he have the audacity to call me a nuisance.
I growled angrily and stomped up to face him, standing as tall as I possibly could to seem bigger as I scowled at him with my arms crossed firmly over my chest.
"I am not a nuisance! If anything... you're the nuisance! You sit around all day and do nothing but order me around to get you drinks!" I yelled. Dad slowly lifted his head and stared at me with wide, angry eyes, and the moment I saw them I immediately shut my mouth and braced myself for a slap across the face or a beating. I need to learn to control myself lest I get into situations like these.
"Did you just talk back to me?" he hissed, his eyes flaring more with each word he spoke. I gulped and stepped back.
"Answer me! Did you talk back to me!?" Dad yelled, standing up and towering over me with his large frame. I felt even smaller than before compared to him. I just wanted to disappear at this point or cry.
"Yes..." I mumbled, looking at the floor, tears filling my eyes.
"What did you say!?" Dad yelled, stepping closer and balling his fists.
"Yes! I'm sorry!" I said a little louder and started to sob. I backed against the wall in fear, hoping he wouldn't do anything to me... but he did. Dad growled furiously and lunged at me, grabbing my arm tightly in his large, brutal hands and yanking me towards him.
I screamed bloody murder, pleading for him to let me go but he persisted as I struggled, squeezing my small arms until they bruised.
"PLEASE LET ME GO!!" I screamed, kicking at him and trying to run away. Thankfully, my small foot struck his knee and he instantly dropped me, growling in pain and clutching his right knee. I spared no time in sprinting out of the room towards the door; I ran as fast as the house would allow and practically threw myself around every corner. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before I heard the angry stomping of boots behind me, and before I knew it, I had been tackled and pinned against the floor.
I screamed as if a stranger was going to gut me, and I clawed desperately at the carpet to escape again. Dad grunted through my struggling and grabbed my wrists; he twisted them painfully behind my back, earning an agonised screech from m. He tore a piece off my dress to tie them together and he made sure that the cloth was tight enough to stop the blood flow to my own fingers.
I screamed and wailed again, hoping some magical, other-worldly event would occur and I'd be saved, but alas, it was fruitless.
"SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! YOU FREAK!!" Dad screamed in my ear. His face was so twisted with fury that he was unrecognisable. The harsh insult was enough to shake me to the core with pure hurt. I fell limp under his heavy bodyweight and proceeded to only cry silently while Dad grumbled to himself incoherent nonsense and lifted me over his shoulder.
"If it weren't for your wench of a mother practising black magic, you would've never been born and I would be happy! Goddamn happy!" he hissed through his teeth as he strode through the house at a lightning pace.
He approached the basement door, and, without even turning on any lights, he walked down the creaky dark steps into the cold, dank room. He dropped me in a corner and harshly continued to tie one end of a thick rope around the bonds on my wrists and the other end to a rail that guarded the furnace.
"Daddy! Please don't leave me down here." I begged through pathetic sobs and whimpers. The man ignored me and hurried back up the stairs, but at the doorway, he stopped and gave me one last hate-filled stare.
"This is where demons like you belong..." - and with that, the cellar door closed and I was left in pitch blackness that seemed to last forever...