(3 years later. 1898)
Chains... countless chains... countless, heavy, godforsaken chains... all of them wrapped around me and paralyzing me... suffocating me like one long metal python.
The only thing I can do is watch my days go by behind bars... I watch as days become months, and months become years... I watch as the performers grow older and stronger, they're happy even if their salary grows lower. I watch as the Nočne Mačke becomes bigger and bigger with every successful show and I become just one more attraction in TomCat's freak show.
I am forced to be on stage where I'm humiliated, insulted, and made to perform like a good, obedient demon child. None of my abilities remains as a "hidden" talent in this circus; the moment I learn something new, Tom tells me to perform it as well as I can in the next show. All I can do is obey.
My life now is like watching a child grow up and grow old while I can only watch idly by, never allowed to interfere... I just sit in the shadows and observe like I always do; unable to speak out and my only company is Cheetah. He's the only one who keeps me sane now.
I'm a puppet. TomCat's little "toy". I do what he wants all day and obey every order and at night, he "rewards" me. I'm still not quite sure if his method of "reward" is good. I've long since learned what he's doing to me at night (albeit, I had to ask one of the lady performers what it's called and that was a rather uncomfortable conversation for her). Although I know now what he does, I don't know how to feel about why. I thought sex was reserved for married couples; at least, that's what I've overheard from others. I'm not sure about anything TomCat does and it frustrates me.
I don't know anything and it angers me. I only know one thing in this circus: obey orders and keep quiet.
...
"Step right up! Don't be shy! Come and bless your eyes with our terribly terrific human oddities and paradoxical curiosities! I guarantee you will be astonished by our vast menagerie of mysteries we hold behind the curtain! Come inside and be amazed!" the familiar announcement that was over-dramatically exclaimed by the new freak show leader, Leopard echoed throughout the dark tent and to my cage right behind it... The circus is open. I thought dully, sitting up and looking out at the many tents.
I was correct. From what little I could see beyond the freakshow tent, I could make out just a segment of the lengthy line that had accumulated at the mouth of the Freakshow tent. I let out a quiet sigh, realising the crowd I would have to hide from was a large one. Large crowds never made me comfortable and I dread what crude remarks would come my way.
My only comfort for the day is Cheetah, who I've been addressing by his real name- which is Ivan- since we both have a mutual dislike towards our stage-names. He noticed I was finally awake and greeted me with his usual, "Good morning, angel!"and I responded with my usual, "Morning, Sloth," It was our daily routine and it developed sometime the previous year (I can't quite remember how it started, I just know it's now a thing we do). He smiled and set his book down beside his chair and leaned closer to me.
"It's quite a crowd out there. Sure you can handle it?" He wondered softly. I sighed, already defeated by the day.
"G-God, I need an excuse t-t-to not be here r-right now," I mumbled, leaning my head in my hand. Ivan nodded and briefly smoothed out his hair.
"Good thing there's a show before they all come to you, so you can mentally prepare yourself to hide," he chuckled. I scoffed
"You n-need to m-ment-t-tally prepare... you d-do all the speaking!" I pointed out. Ivan's blank- yet strangely accepting of his fate- stare was enough to tell me that he was also equally dreading the guests as much as I was. I really could not blame him; the guests have grown more and more heartless towards our attraction over the years.
They know very well who I am and some will come from miles and miles away just to see me in person. Yet, to them, I'm not a celebrity or a world-famous relic found in the depths of some estranged ancient city. To them, I'm no more special than an award-winning horse or some random record-breaking icon.
"Hey... tell ya what... what say we m-make an excuse and h-have T-Tom close down the at-t-trac-c-ction again?" I suggested quietly to the young tamer. His face lit up with devious joy and he gave me a cheeky smirk.
"I like the sound of that... what are we gonna do this time?" he wondered
I thought for a moment before quietly answering back, "Maybe a ripped c-costume?"
"Sounds good... where are we gonna rip it?" Ivan turned completely around in his seat and straddled the small chair.
"I dunno... Find a l-loose thread somewhere, m-maybe?" I shrugged and examined my costume for any threads or seams I could rip. Ivan and I have only ever purposely ripped my costume three other times because of one reason only: the costumes were well-made and very hard to rip. It was about two years ago when TomCat upgraded our costumes from the simple, hand-made ones to specially-made articles that capture the audience's eye by simply walking. The outfits had been bejewelled, given fur accents, had bright and odd colours, the high-wire artists even had feathers!
All of the costumes were designed and drawn out by Tom, but the costumes were made by professional seamstresses and tailored to all of our sizes. The costumes were built for acrobatics and extreme wear and tear; they were very hard to rip accidentally.
But, just my luck, I found a loose thread just below the waistband of my skirt and I immediately began to vigorously pull and pick at it. Ivan noticed as well and he used the course metal of my chains to rub the fabric until it was horrendously frayed. Finally, my fingers broke through the blue fabric and I gave a mighty tug to open the rip up. The rip travelled all the way down to the middle of my thigh. It was more than I anticipated, but it was enough for me to be satisfied and I gave a triumphant "ah-ha!" once the rip had opened.
"Yes! I'll go get Leopard. If he asks, just say it got snagged on an edge," Ivan stated. I nodded and he quickly hurried off to alert the freakshow leader. This was a part of our scheme that was less than enjoyable. I have to say, if I were to choose between interacting with Tom or Leopard, I would choose Tom.
Leopard isn't as bad as Tom by any means. He's not a drunk, he doesn't find girls my age and younger sexually attractive, he doesn't seduce every woman who comes into his tent, and he doesn't spontaneously combust into random fits of insanity or rage. He's as normal as a freakshow leader can be. The only exception is his unwelcoming attitude.
He is the announcer of our freakshow and he beckons audiences with his hypnotic tongue twisters and excited tone of voice but ever since the man and I first officially met and exchanged a few words, he's always expressed a subtle disdain for me. Albeit, I'm used to the same attitude from everybody except Ivan and Tom but Leopard's is... different.
He started by referring to me as if I were the circus' family dog and making passive aggressive remarks about the filth that I sleep in (which is my cage). However, it wasn't too long before- I assume he found out somehow- he learned that Tom makes regular visits to my cage to fulfill his thirst for affection.
Leopard then, rather than refer to me as the circus' family dog, he referred to me as the ringmaster's private whore. I've never explicitly heard him say those words together in that order, but despite his cool, passive aggressive tone and slight charm, I'm smart enough to hear the words between his "educated" discussions of me.
I'm not sure what his deal is. Perhaps it's hate because I'm different, maybe he's like Precision in some way and he takes pride in humiliating me because I'm in a cage. Or perhaps, he has his own reason that he's keeping to himself? I really don't know, but I wish I did so I could set him straight.
...
Ivan didn't take long in retrieving Leopard. I was honestly surprised when I saw my dear friend approaching the cage, followed by the tall, stoic-faced leader. His blue and purple suit glimmered like peacock feathers in the morning sun but his black newsboy-cap left his face in shadow.
I straightened up and prepared myself for the conversation that would take place.
"Good morning... what's the issue, miss?" Leopard wondered with a loud but still exhausted tone of voice.
"I h-have a r-rip... in m-my skirt... sir..." I stammered quietly. Leopard took a few moments to examine my costume; he didn't come closer or move his head to get a better look at anything, he simply stood there with his usual dead-pan look and eventually reached into his pocket to pull out his pipe. He scraped out the bowl of his pipe, now seeming to ignore my costume as he focused more on preparing his pipe. Ivan and I remained patient and quiet as we watched him.
Finally, after striking a match and taking a few puffs from the pipe, he blew the smoke from his nose and said, "What do you want me to do?"
Ivan finally spoke up, "We need the ringmaster to make a quick mend."
Leopard took another drag from his pipe and blew the smoke downwards while keeping his eyes glued to me, "Ah, right. That would make sense."
"Yes... it would," Ivan stated. I could tell he was beginning to become irritated by Leopard's lack of concern.
"Alright, bring her, then, don't just stand there like a couple of statues!" Leopard finally urged and began to walk away. I heard Ivan gasp momentarily- I assume in confusion- and he scrambled to unlock the cage and take off my chains. We hurried after the man and once we had caught up, I flashed a sly smile to Ivan; he returned the smile and added a wink.
Our scheme, as confusing as Leopard made it turn out, succeeded once again and we were on our way to spend a good thirty minutes to an hour in the ringmaster's office.
Leopard gave two loud knocks on the door of TomCat's shack of a home and burst through the door as if he, himself, owned the place. Ivan and I followed close behind.
"Boss! Satan's freaks are here again!" Leopard loudly announced. Ivan and I shared a disdainful glance at his words and we both watched him impatiently stand in the centre of Tom's living room with his pipe dangling out of the corner of his mouth.
We eventually heard a few distant grunts, followed by a door and heavy footsteps. Great... he's hungover again. I thought to myself and nervously began to chew on my nails. TomCat appeared in the doorway of the hallway and Leopard was the first person he laid eyes on; the look in his eyes was the same all day: tired and distant. Tom looked particularly terrible this day: his hair was a tangled mess, there were darkened bags under his eyes, and his face was flushed red from a lingering drunkenness that hasn't quite left him.
God, this man is in charge of a circus...
"What?" he grumbled.
"Cheetah and Demon are here with an issue... again," Leopard stated, taking another drag from his pipe and blowing it in my direction. I coughed and fanned the smoke away but it was no use.
"What's the issue?" Tom wondered, now looking to Ivan.
"Uh, Demon's skirt snagged on the cage and it ripped, sir," Ivan answered. Tom's brow furrowed as if the words faded into silence before they fully reached his brain. I waited anxiously for anyone to say anything and chewed my fingernails until they were no sharper than erasers.
"Okay. Come 'ere, Demmy, I'll fix you up," Tom finally pushed himself off the doorway and gestured for me to come to him with his hand. I timidly obeyed, giving an uncertain glance back at Ivan; his jaw was clenched tightly, as were his fists. I could feel his discomfort radiating off of him and I shared his same feelings.
I followed Tom down the hall to his office and the moment I could no longer see the living room, I felt as if the narrow hall was collapsing in on itself and I was trapped with TomCat. I know I had previously mentioned that I would rather be around Tom than Leopard but I underestimated Tom in that moment. The man is terrifying; simple as that. His tall, gaunt stature is not a quality that helps eiter. From a distance, he looks like a bumbling, uncoordinated long-limbed shadow demon but in person... he's far worse
I don't know what changed in my childhood friend but he's not the same. Perhaps show business is too much for him. His drinking habits have gotten worse and damaged his loud, commanding voice that everyone loved to hear. He almost has to yell now simply to hide the fact that his voice is terribly hoarse and crackly. He should be thankful he still has his devilishly good looks, but even at twenty-one, he nearly looks thirty-five because of his eye bags alone.
The bounce in his step that I used to adore is but a memory, replaced by a slight, drunken sway and a slouch in his shoulders as the weight of our circus grows heavier and heavier. Perhaps he is only stressed and needs a long vacation to recuperate; his constant, unpredictable mood swings are affecting all of us and putting all of us on our toes around him. We never know if he's gonna congratulate us for a job well done, cry uncontrollably, or scream in a fit of rage about some random thing he finds mildly upsetting. Everyone tries to avoid him when they can; except BeastCat and I. BeastCat willingly provides comfort during his episodes while I'm forced to endure his crazed ramblings every other night when he comes to visit.
I tried to make the most out of his visits by telling Ivan the weird things he says when he visits on the nights that Tom does not.
"Demmy? Are you okay? You seem distant," Tom's rough voice suddenly broke my train of thought and I looked up suddenly in surprise.
"Oh... I'm f-fine," I responded quietly and quickly looked away.
"Good... now where's this rip Cheetah mentioned?" Tom inquired as he crossed the room to retrieve a small sewing pouch to mend my skirt. I glanced at the rip briefly before turning to let him see it; I wasn't sure anymore that a simple needle and some thread could fix the damage that Ivan and I inflicted on my skirt.
Tom's abrupt change in expression when he saw the vicious gouge in the fabric was enough to tell me that my suspicions were correct.
"Well, that's a mighty snag!" He exclaimed and threw the sewing pouch back on his desk, clearly already knowing that this would take more than a simple fix.
"My God, what did you snag it on?" He wondered and a brief moment of panic swept over me.
"Uh. It w-was a b-b-bolt," I stuttered quietly. I could feel my cheeks growing red hot out of embarrassment and I silently hoped he wouldn't think I was lying to him.
"You'll have to be careful about that then... you're the only one who's ripped your costume more than three times now," Tom explained. I nodded timidly and subconsciously chewed on my fingers again; the look TomCat was giving me made me feel small and weak and I knew he was thinking of something to take advantage of the closed door.
"Take off your skirt, I'll have to make you a new one," Tom instructed casually. I finally looked up at him, my eyes were wide with the subconscious fear that he would touch me again. I hesitated for a while, hoping that he would maybe reword his statement so it didn't sound so uncomfortable, but alas, he didn't; he merely urged me to obey with a subtle nod of his head and waited for me to comply.
Still in discomfort, I obeyed and slowly pulled off my skirt. Despite still wearing my white pantaloons underneath, I still felt exposed, as if a piece of my very body had been taken away. I handed the skirt to him and, to my relief, he only took the skirt and did nothing else to me. I was given a temporary replacement skirt that was black with gold lace trim; it didn't match my blue corset but it was the only skirt that fit so I promised myself I would make due.
"Now, promise me you won't rip that skirt while I'm fixing the other one," Tom said as he threw my decimated skirt into a corner.
I shook my head, "I w-won't,"
"Good, because next time, you might not have a replacement skirt..." he continued with an edge of amusement in his tone. I said nothing but a wave of discomfort overwhelmed me and I was hoping he would let me leave soon. Thankfully, to my relief, I was dismissed and I left without a moment's hesitation.
I hadn't realised until I left his office, that I had been holding my breath for a good majority of that encounter. My chest felt tight and there was a buzzing in my ears that made me dizzy; once I let out a deep breath and began to breathe normally again, the dizziness went away and I felt almost tipsy from how quickly the air returned to me.
I found Ivan, awkwardly sitting at one of the dining room chairs and I quickly scrambled to him. Leopard was across the room seated on the couch, the smell of pipe smoke was radiating off of him.
"Okay," I started.
Ivan looked at my skirt and his brow furrowed, "Is that your new skirt?"
"No, it's temp-p-por-r-r-"
"Temporary? Gotcha," Ivan finished for me. I heard Leopard scoff quietly to himself, although I'm not sure if Ivan heard him.
He stood from his spot on the couch, pocketing his pipe and staring at us both with his usual bored expression, "Alright, let's get back to the show then," he stated, motioning to the door. Ivan nodded and thanked Leopard before leading me to the door by my arm and walking me out. We both made an effort to walk as slowly as we could without Leopard complaining in order to waste more time. My eyes were glued to my new temporary skirt; I wasn't used to seeing myself in black but I kind of liked it. It made my pale skin stick out and the gold sparkles and lace matched my hair.
"Tae, you might need to walk a tad faster than that, or else the sourpuss will say something," Ivan mumbled beside me. I quickened my pace and looked back to see where the lanky freakshow leader was. To my bewilderment, he wasn't anywhere behind us. I then looked to Ivan and, in my most casual tone, I responded, "But... L-Leopard isn't b-behind us."
Ivan stopped to make a full one-eighty in order to clarify that I was, indeed, telling the truth. The puzzlement on his features was actually quite amusing. I managed a small chuckle while I contemplated a response.
"Did he... did he run off or something? I could've sworn he followed us out!" Ivan muttered to himself. I nodded and shrugged. I couldn't care less about the man's whereabouts but I did share some of my friend's curiosity in his strange disappearance.
"Maybe h-he can tela-t-tela-p-port and that's h-his d-dirty secret," I suggested. Ivan chuckled and seemingly dismissed Leopard's odd vanish act as he turned around once more and continued on to my cage. Seeing how Leopard wasn't around to monitor when we returned to our places, we walked significantly slower. Our mild stride abruptly became a leisurely, snail-like stroll, with a few stops in between to eye a pretty rock in the trees or to listen to a bird singing nearby.
Ivan and I gave ourselves as much time as possible and we had no worries about how much time was wasted because he was in charge and he could say whatever he wanted to excuse our lengthy absence. He really was as much of a child as I was and I believe that's why we enjoyed each other's company so well. People see Ivan as a grown man and he uses that to get what the both of us want so we can make the most of our time... as we are now.
Alas though, our feet eventually carried us back to my cage and I had to be chained up once again for my next show. We couldn't hear Leopard's voice across the grounds luring people into the maw of the freakshow tent, but we assumed he was there, leaning against a stool or a barrel and taking long draws from his pipe.