Tamara was wandering around the carnival, looking for somewhere to hide. She had awoken again, this time in a white summer dress in what appeared to be a dressing room. There were broken mannequins lying about, some missing arms and others missing their heads. It was quite creepy, but not as off putting as it perhaps should be.
She had seen worse in the carnival, and had debated on staying there. If she stayed there she would be safe from the others roaming around, but she would never find her way out. And while she had been lucky and not had her own personal encounter with any of the carnies, she had seen what they had done to the woman in the fur coat. She did not want to end up like her.
Tamara wanted to go home, even if she couldn't remember what or where that was. All she remembered was the carnival, as if this was all she had ever known and will ever know. But sometimes she'll get this feeling in the center of her being, or a stray thought running through her head. A feeling telling her that this wasn't natural, and a voice telling her that she needed to get out as fast as she could. She didn't belong here, wherever here was.
She paused in her steps, hearing faint laughter coming from the tent up ahead. It sounded like someone was singing to an enthusiastic audience, and if her memory was anything to go by, she didn't want to know what was being celebrated.
Tamara tried to blend in with her surroundings, but the white dress stood out like a sore thumb in the dark, dull colors of the carnival. Maybe if she-
Tamara let out an ear piercing screech as she felt someone grip onto her arm, and change her direction. The laughter from the tent suddenly subsided, and she looked to see who had grabbed her only to make eye contact with a huge eyeglass.
"Calm yourself!" The man told her with a steadying gaze and firm grip.
The carnies in the tent began to peek out as he lead her to one of the bigger tents further from the main act tent. Looking at it now, Tamara wondered how she hadn't noticed it before.
"Stay away from me!" She yelled out, trying to jerk away from him as he pulled her with him, and the other Carnies all laughed and pointed at her.
"You are going to be late for a very important appointment, and not being punctual won't do you any favors." He told her in an even tone, his grip not letting up, but also not tightening.
The sounds of the laughing carnies faded as they got nearer to the big tent, and Tamara felt an overwhelming surge of panic course through her. Her heart was beating frantically in her chest, feeling as though a knife hadn't previously protruded from it.
"What are you talking about?" She asked, her eyes watering up and her throat begin to tighten with the feeling of an oncoming sob about to erupt.
He stopped in front of the tent, and turned her to look at him. This was her first time truly looking at him. His skin was a little yellow, and his lips were a purple-ish blue. He was much taller than her, and he was bald at the top of his head. His clothes were more put together than the other carnies, and his face….. It was much kinder than the others she had seen. He didn't smirk or laugh at her, he hadn't hurt her (yet), and he seemed tired. Sad, even.
"Just follow the path through that opening, and be on your best behavior. You only get one chance out of here." He told her, gesturing to the opening beneath the Devil and his Due sign.
"How do I know this isn't a trick? Why should I trust you?" She asked him quietly. She didn't believe that he would cause her harm, but she didn't trust her judgement anymore. Not down here. Maybe not ever.
"You shouldn't, but that's for you to decide. Off you go." He told her, walking away.
Tamara turned back to the tent, and took in a deep breath. If this truly was her only chance out of here, she would be a fool not to take it. But if it were another trick… what else did she have to lose at this point? With a deep intake of breath, she walked through the opening of the tent.
She was met with an empty tent, except for a few props and lights that lined the dirt floor. Like a twisted version of Dorothy and the yellow brick road, Tamara followed the lit path through the surprisingly winding tent. She knew it was big, but it somehow felt even bigger. She passed more props, and more striped walls. It felt like she had been walking for hours, and the end of the path looked nowhere to be found.
Tamara looked off to the side, and saw an opening in the tent. It veered off from the path, but the man out front had told her that it was up to her to decide if she could trust him. This place had taught her that no one could be trusted, so maybe this was her way out.
She made her way out, and it was dark. No lights, no tents in sight, it was a deserted dirt path. Upon closer inspection, she saw an outline of a car. An eerily familiar looking car. If there were keys, maybe she could drive away? Is that what he had meant? This was her one chance out of there?
She quickly made her way to the rusted red car, pulling the door open. It felt as if she should know this car. Like it was important, but it wasn't quite clicking. Like a stray thought that you couldn't unravel, and the more you thought on it the further it eluded you.
Tamara sat in the driver's seat, running her hands over the navy blue steering wheel with the faded yellow sunflowers. The soft material felt comforting, and she briefly saw keys with a matching sunflower keychain hanging off of them in her mind's eye. Checking the ignition, she realized that the keys weren't there.
The Hula girl frozen in her dancing pose sat atop the dashboard, and fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror. Tamara went to straighten the mirror when she saw a man's form appear behind the car. She quickly slammed the car door shut, and began rolling up the car windows manually. The action seemed so eerily familiar, like a terrible case of deja vu.
She began digging through the glove compartment box, searching for the keys that had to be in the car. Instead what she found was a small gun. Upon seeing it, she drew back in shock. As the small gun clattered to the passenger side floor, Tamara watched as the man suddenly disappeared from the passenger side of the car.
Tamara began to have flashes of memory. Her running from a man, Eddie, he had cheated on her again. He had come home smelling of perfume she didn't wear again. They had fought, especially after he accused her of cheating on him. She had gone to get her things, and he had shoved her into the dresser. It wasn't the first time he had laid hands on her, but it was the first time she hadn't forgiven him.
She was going to stay with her mom, she had already made the plans. She was going to leave him. But the fight had gotten out of hand, and he had followed her. Tamara hadn't realized that he had a gun. She didn't know.
She remembered him telling her to roll down the window, to stay, to talk to him. And she hadn't. She had held her ground and tried to leave. She had finally given up believing him and his lies. And he had shot her.
Tamara felt her chest, where the knife had previously been protruding from her body. Where the bullet had previously been lodged into her chest. What had caused her to die.
Tamara was dead. She had been dead this whole time.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and the sobs that she had been holding back since her second time waking up here suddenly broke free. She cried long and hard, and let it happen.
She leaned back in the driver's seat, and looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Her mascara and eyeliner ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were glossy and puffy red. Her hair was dishevelled, and none of it mattered. She was dead. She was dead, and suffering. She was in…. She was in hell.
Wiping at her eyes, Tamara made her way out of the car. Her tomb, really. She was dead, and this car was her final resting place in the physical world. Because her soul was in hell.
She made her way through the tent flap, and was faced with a wooden door. A door that hadn't been there when she was wandering through the tent. The lights were out, and it was silent. All that could be heard were the shallow breaths she took as her sobs subsided, and she regained her composure.
With one final intake of breath, she turned the knob and entered a dimly lit room. One figure sat in a throne before her, reading over a huge book. He didn't look up as she quietly closed the door behind her.
"What did I do wrong?" She quietly asked him once it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything.
He quietly closed the book, and sat it gently on his lap as he took her in. She must have looked a mess, but she didn't see any judgement on his face. She couldn't read anything from his face, not that she was good at reading people anyway. Eddie was the shining example of that. She was a fool.
"What do you think you did?" He asked her quietly, studying her.
Tamara thought back on her life, and couldn't think of anything she had done that was so bad to deserve eternal damnation. She could have volunteered more, or donated more, or tried more to leave the world better than she had come into it. While she hadn't lived a selfless life, she hadn't lived a greedy one. She didn't take more than she was given, or intentionally hurt anyone. Her biggest mistake had been believing Eddie time after time, and she had paid for that mistake with her life.
"I don't know." She said quietly, fresh tears pooling in her eyes. She quickly wiped at her eyes, not wanting to be weak in front him.
"You still haven't figured it out? Would you like me to tell you?" He asked her, with a raised brow.
"How do I know you won't lie?" She asked, meeting his eyes for the first time since walking in the room.
"What would I have to gain from that?" He asked her cryptically.
"I don't know. What did the Scorpion have to gain from killing me? What did Eddie have to gain from killing me? How do I know I can trust anything you say?" She asked, her voice becoming stronger with each word.
"I'm no liar." He told her sternly, his voice snapping a little.
"Sorry. I don't know who to trust anymore. I don't trust anyone here. I don't trust myself. I don't trust my judgement. I don't know what I did to deserve being punished like this. What did I do that was so bad that I have to be killed over and over?" Tamara asked, her voice quiet and broken.
He sat back, his face almost reflective as he took in her pitiable state. Her makeup was a mess on her face, her hair was dishevelled, and her white summer dress was stained with dirt and smudges of makeup from her hands. She looked like she was truly suffering, and in pain. She truly didn't know what she had done.
"You're flawed. Imperfect." He told her finally.
"But… all humans are flawed. That shouldn't be grounds for eternal punishment." She said, meeting his eyes again.
"That they are, but He still doesn't like imperfect dolls." He told her, gesturing above him with a scornful look.
"What is my flaw?" She asked, the tears suddenly drying up. She was getting headache from the strain, but all she could feel was the quiet fury building in the pit of her stomach.
"The very thing that got you killed." He told her cryptically.
Tamara thought back to how she died, and what she had done wrong. She was leaving her abusive ex. She was almost free. She was going to be able to live her life free of him once and for all. This all would have been avoided had she left him the first time he hurt her, but she had a weak spot for bad boys. And he had said he was sorry, but he was always sorry. She was believed him, always took him back, always trusted him not to hurt her again no matter how many times he did, because he promised!
Suddenly everything clicked into place. Her death, both in life and in death, and the words of the Ticket Keeper, and the one thing that always seemed to get her into trouble. The one thing she began to question upon waking up here again. The one thing that made her flawed.
"I'm to be punished for forever because I trust people?" She said with a quiet fury, anger coursing through her tired body.
"Seems a bit frugal, doesn't it?" He asked, running his hand over his chin in thought.
Tamara had never been this angry in her life. Well, death, technically.
"But didn't he make me this way? Doesn't he make us the way that we are?" She asked, fire burning in her eyes.
He took her figure in again, appraising her sudden ire.
"He was never one to own up to his own mistakes." He said, watching her carefully.
Tamara shook with unbridled rage. Why did she have to suffer for something like being too trusting? Since when was that a sin to condemn someone for?
"You have learned your lesson. Those doors will lead you to Heaven. Tell Him I said hello." He told her, gesturing to a door with a sudden bright glow appearing from the bottom cracks.
"Do I have to?" Tamara asked him, anger leaving as fear took its place.
He seemed to be truly perplexed by her question, pausing to stare at her with a raised brow.
"Pardon?" He asked her.
"I don't want to go. How do I know he won't just send me back? Or find another flaw and condemn me again? I don't trust him." She finally admitted, backing away from the glowing the door.
He seemed truly taken aback by this, not expecting for a Lost Soul to not only overcome their sin, but to refuse to go to Heaven.
"You would rather stay here, than go up there? You'd rather the fires of hell than the light of heaven?" He asked her incredulously.
"The demon you know…." She trailed off quietly, and watched as a small smirk appeared on his face.
"Well then. I think it's time you rest your weary eyes." He told her, waving a hand over her form.
Tamara suddenly felt extremely tired, like the events of the day was finally catching up with her. She fought off a yawn as her vision grew blurry, and her body began to sway. She vaguely felt arms wrap around her as she fell off into a restful slumber.