I do not own anything. :)

Hello, readers! Just to let you know, this story will be based on the movie, not so much the book. Why? Because I sort of like a visual representation of characters; I like it when I can just Google search a character or actor/actress and their image is right there. For example, while writing this, I have a picture of Kaya Scodelario/Effy Stonem in a window on my computer because that's how I imagine Sandra. You know what I mean? So yeah. :) I'm starting to ramble, aren't I? Sorry about that. On with the chapter :D.

Sandra blew smoke out of her mouth, holding her cigarette between her middle and index fingers. She stared at her arms. How long had Melissa been gone? She wanted to turn around and check the time, but for some odd reason, she couldn't bring herself to do it. She glanced at the ash tray to her right. In it were three cigarettes; all appeared to have been smashed into the glass roughly. She's been gone for over two hours!, Sandra thought. She decided to stick with that.

The sound of the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Sandra pushed out her chair hesitantly and strode towards the door. Behind it stood a fidgeting Melissa Emerson. Sandra stared at her, waiting for her to say something. But she didn't speak. She walked back inside, leaving the door open for her sister.

They sat together on the couch, both expecting something from the other. "Hey! Hey you! Come back here, woman! You selfish she-devil! Why'd you have to go? Don't you see how much everyone misses you? Is disappearing all you care about? Do you like hurting the ones you love?" Their father shouted. Melissa glanced at her older sibling. Sandra felt her gaze, and she looked back. "I hate you! Everyone hates you, conceded bitch! Does everyone mourning over you make you feel good about yourself? Huh? You think it makes you seem significant?" he yelled again.

"Just ignore him." Said Sandra, crushing her cigarette against the glass frame of their family picture. Melissa remained silent as usual. The two sat at both ends of the couch and listened to their father as he continued his "conversation" with his wife.

After an hour of attempting to persuade Mr. Emerson to attend the funeral, Sandra had given up. She rolled her eyes and stepped into her room, slamming the door behind her. It was truly pathetic. The man was pretending to be angry at their mother when everyone knew he was in a great deal of pain.

She sighed, plopping onto her bed. Her room was unusually girly. Her walls were a soft seashell pink, with several posters of Disney and Nickelodeon stars taped upon them. A magenta comforter with lace ruffles at the bottom covered her mattress. Little trinkets from her childhood were placed neatly everywhere you looked. She hadn't bothered to change or rearrange anything in the room since she turned ten. After that, she just…stopped caring.

She did have hopes and dreams. One of them was to be a gymnast. Sandra had always been very flexible; she could "fold" herself in half and stare at her feet for hours. Oddly enough, that's what she used to do in her spare time. She figured that, with a little training, she could be one of the best.

She was the entertainer in the family. Each time the Emersons got together, she'd have her cousins chant her name, pleading for her to perform. She'd happily agree to, of course. That is, until Aunt Lucile gave her the "backup plan" speech.

Ever since then, she had a very firm grasp on reality. She was a normal girl; nothing special was ever going to happen to her.

She buried her face in the blanket and pillows. She had to admit, her life wasn't all that bad. She had a roof over her head, food and drink, clothes on her back, money…all of the needs. Her life was better than most kids' out there.

What she didn't have was friends. She was one of the most unpopular girls in school. They called her a "freak". Her mother said they were only jealous of her because she was "so beautiful". But Sandra didn't believe it; it was what moms were supposed to say.

She yearned to have at least one friend. A special person who would support her and love her no matter what. Melissa could pass as that person, but her little sister as her best friend? Now that would make her look desperate.

She moaned, rolling off the bed. She open one of her dresser drawers and pulled out a circular tin with Harry, Ron, and Hermione's faces on it. She removed the top and grabbed a carton of cigarettes and her favorite lighter. She pulled one out and lit it.

Sandra was fifteen, soon to be sixteen. She began the disgusting habit at the age of thirteen. Obviously, she wasn't able to buy cigarettes for herself, so she stole a couple of cartons from her mom each time she brought some home. The woman was very forgetful, so she believed the missing cartons to be ones she'd already smoked, but just doesn't remember doing so. Her father, the responsible spouse, didn't bother to inform her of the truth; he was far too focused on loving her and trying to keep her happy. Not that it was a bad thing, but she "misplaced" a lot of things because of it.

Melissa knocked on her door. "Come in." Said Sandra. Her younger walked in, staring at the ground. "It's time to go," she announced in a small voice. Sandra nodded, putting her cigarette in her mouth as she grabbed the carton and lighter. "Kay."

As they walked out the door, Sandra grabbed her father's wallet from the coffee table. He wasn't going to use it, anyway. Plus, they needed money for a cab.

The two sisters let a few tears escape as they watched the casket be carried off by four men. Melissa looked away, as did Sandra. It was all too much. The person who had cared for them up until the last few weeks was to be buried, never to be seen again. Alive or dead, they couldn't stand the thought of her being in the ground.

"I'm so sorry, girls." Uncle Arthur said, putting his hand on Melissa's shoulder. "I know this must be hard for you. Your mother will be missed." The siblings nodded.

"I saw you came in a cab. Need a ride home?" he offered, forcing a smile. Melissa opened her mouth to say something, but Sandra beat her to it. "No thanks." She replied, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. He nodded, grinned sympathetically, then left.

Melissa gave her a look. She shrugged. Truthfully, the wanted to take the cab because it would provide some much needed time outside. The closest thing she'd gotten to "going out" was chasing some stray cat away from their garbage cans.

"Where ya headed, Miss?" the bad driver asked. Melissa had ended up agreeing to go with their uncle, so Sandra was alone. "Oh, I don't know. Is there anything exciting going on?" she replied. He paused to think. "Well, there's always the movie theatre. There's this parade at the high school. Oh, and that freak show is about to go on in that old, abandoned warehouse." He grinned from the rearview mirror.

Sandra hated movie theatres. Why should you pay to watch a movie when in a couple of months you can watch it for free on TV? She also despised parades, for when she was nine, someone threw candy and hit her in the eye. She had to wear an eye patch for a week.

However, she had never been to a Freakshow. She'd heard things about them, though. The idea interested her. "Freakshow, definitely." She grinned faintly. He winked at her and began driving. "You got it."

After what seemed like forever, they arrived at a large building. "This is it." The driver announced. Sandra opened the door, paid him, and made her way to the ticket booth.

She furrowed her brows when she saw that no one was there. "Hello…?" she called. No answer. But there was a slight knock from below. She looked down to see a small, shriveled up hand. The palm was turned upwards, as if it were expecting something. She looked left and right, cautiously pulling her father's wallet from her back pocket.

"Uh…you want money?" she asked hesitantly. The hand's fingers wiggled. She swallowed. "…How much?"

With it's fingers, it showed her the amount. She dug around in the wallet and pulled out several one dollar bills. Before she could hand them to the mysterious creature, she felt a sharp pain in near her thumb.

She shrieked, throwing the money on the ground and pulling away. The hand collected it, replacing it with a ticket. Sandra quickly scooped it up and ran off.

She was soon encountered by a very large man. "Your ticket, please." He grinned. She handed it to him. His smile grew wider as he spread out his arm welcomingly, signaling for her to go on.

She took her seat in the back and grimaced. There was hardly anyone in the audience; she could've gotten a better seat. She sat back, closing her eyes and hugging her knees to her chest. Only then did she realize how much her eyes hurt.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Cirque du Freak!" her eyes popped open to see the man from before. "The acts you are about to see are not for the fainthearted; you have been warned." He smirked. He continued with his speech, then went on to introducing acts.

Sandra smiled as the man, Mr. Tall (he had said his name at one point in the show), dismissed everyone and the lights dimmed. She stretched, standing up and following everybody outside.

It was strange. Though those people who performed were considered to be freaks, they were happy. They looked like they were having fun. Sandra wished she could feel like that.

She grunted. She felt stiff. She really should not have sat like that throughout the entire show. She stretched once more, but it did no good. She sighed, putting her hands on the ground and "folding" herself in half. She stared at her black ballet flats.

This felt nice. It relaxed her muscles. She hadn't done it in so long; she was surprised she still could.

"Amazing!" a voice exclaimed. She turned to see Mr. Tall clapping and beaming. She quickly "unfolded" herself and glared at him. "What?" she asked irritably.

"I haven't seen anyone move like that in years!" he said. Sandra rolled her eyes and began to walk off. "Whatever." She didn't understand why she was acting like that. The man was praising her, and she was bitter towards him, as she was to everyone. She silently cursed herself.

"Wait, Miss!" he hollered. She looked back at him. "Yes?" she replied.

"I was wondering if you'd like to join the Cirque. I believe that you'd make for an excellent contortionist." Mr. Tall offered. Sandra furrowed her brows. Did he just ask what she thought he just asked? "A…contortionist?"

"Yes. A contortionist is someone who can bend their body like you can. It's quite amazing." He explained. She paused, then crossed her arms. "What's in it for me?"

"Well, the fact that you get to perform around the country, being a part of our little family, the gift of friendship…"

"Cut the crap, you know what I mean."

"You want money?"

"Yes. I'm at least worth a hundred."

"One-hundred dollars?" Mr. Tall said in disbelief. Sandra rolled her eyes. "No, one hundred thousand dollars." She sighed, inspecting her nails nonchalantly. He sighed.

"One-hundred…and your own tent; no roommate."

"Well…"

"Please?"

Sandra paused. What had she been doing? She couldn't join a Freakshow! What about Melissa? What about her father? What about school?

"Give me a while to think it over." Mr. Tall nodded, "Alright then. But until then, you can stay with the cirque. If you agree to, I want you to know your away around." He smiled.

"But I have a family to go back to…" said Sandra. Mr. Tall raised a brow. "Yes, but if you actually considered joining, you must not care too much about them. Or the other way around." He smirked playfully. She sighed.

Mr. Tall was correct. Her family cared for her, but she most certainly didn't care for them. She'd asked herself why may a time, and decided that it was because they didn't make her happy. If you didn't bring her joy, she couldn't care less about you.

"Alright, fine. I'll stay. But if my decision is no, then I'm going straight home." She exclaimed, grimacing at the ground.

Mr. Tall lead her to an area behind the warehouse. The freaks from the show were scattered everywhere, smiling and laughing with one another. Sandra immediately envied them. "I'll try and set up a tent for you. Just roam around, get to know everyone." he pat her on the head as he spoke. And with that he was off.

Sandra roamed about the land for what seemed like forever. The place was, oddly enough, quite ordinary; it wasn't far from what you'd see at any campsite. Well, except for the people, whom she hadn't bothered to greet since she had arrived. Much like her sister, Sandra wasn't a very social person.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" She turned around to see a girl around her age glaring at her. Like Sandra, her hair was a mousy brown, with a round face and chocolate brown eyes; the perfect representation of 'the girl next door'.

"Mr. Tall brought me in." Sandra answered as she crossed her arms, trying her best to appear impudent (though she was quite embarrassed). "Really? What for?" the girl's glare disappeared and was replaced by an expression of curiosity. "He wants me to join this 'Cirque du Freak' as a contortionist. Whatever that is." She rolled her eyes.

"A contortionist? You mean, you can bend yourself and stuff? Oh, that's cool!" she exclaimed, holding out her hand. "I'm Rebecca, by the way. It's nice to know that we'll be having another girl my age joining us." She grinned.

Sandra's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm not joining. At least, I don't know if I am yet. I'm still debating whether or not to…" she explained, ignoring Rebecca's hand. She brought it down awkwardly, but still smiled. "Oh…alright. Well, I hope you decide to stay!" she said, picking up a basket full of clothes. "See ya…hopefully!"

"What's her problem?" Sandra asked as soon as the girl was out of sight. She couldn't recall anyone being so nice within the first few seconds of meeting her. She must've had some sort mental problem. Maybe that's why she was in a Freakshow. "Behold! Before you stands our very own 'Psychotic Girl'!"

"Sandra!" Mr. Tall called as he walked towards her. She glanced at him, clearly irritated. "You tent is prepared." And with that, he led her into the tent. It was practically empty, with the exception of a hammock and a very tacky rug. Even though it wasn't much, Sandra was glad to be there. It was better than her own home; no screaming, no annoyingly mute Melissa. All of the things that agitated her were gone. She couldn't help but breathe in a sigh of relief.

"I highly recommend you staying with us, Sandra." He said before returning outside. She, once again, rolled her eyes. He just wasn't going to give up, was he?

She plopped down onto the hammock, settling herself. However, when she was finally comfortable, both the hammock and Sandra crashed onto the ground. "FUCK!" she screamed.

This was going to be a long night…

Like it? Love it? Hate it with a burning passion? Please tell me! This is only for my entertainment, so please, n o f l a m e s. I did work very hard on this, so please tell me if you spot any mistakes. Constructive criticism is welcome with open arms, as well as compliments. I will be updating soon :) And, I know, Rebecca is not in the books, but she is in the movies, and this is more based off of the movies than the books, so yeah. Hope you enjoyed this chapter :3