Prologue | Children of the Circus
The night Aurelia first met Jerome Valeska, she thought she had gone mad. The boy resembled a ghost beneath the pale glow of moonlight—lost and afraid. He seemed an empty shell; a lonesome ship drifting far out to sea. Aurelia felt a surge of sympathy at the sight of him. Jerome Valeska, the boy who held hellfire atop his head, but dead ashes in his eyes.
Madame Lupei tapped Aurelia's nose when the girl pointed out the supposed ghost. "That is no ghost, love. That's a boy. Why don't you go introduce yourself, hmm?"
"Hello." Aurelia gathered the courage to approach the boy. His head straightened, and he looked at the stranger with alarm. "I'm Aurelia. My family and I are new here. What's your name?"
When he replied, out of politeness rather than enthusiasm, he stuttered. "J-J-Jerome." It almost sounded like a question.
Aurelia's sister, Eugenia, concluded that Jerome Valeska was a sweet boy. Saccharine. The sisters liked him very much, and frequented his side every day from that night forward. Jerome was alone with the exception of his mother's company (which was still lacking)—and the company of her 'friends'. The introduction of friendship into his life was a blessing. Whenever the men passed his trailer's threshold, Jerome would flee to his friends' solace.
Under the moonlight they played; symphonies of their innocent laughter rang out through the circus. Though, Jerome seldom laughed. Eugenia declared the boy was too shy to even express his joy. He would merely smile—a wavering, and nervous smile.
"Laughter is medicine," Eugenia would tell her younger sister. "Smiles are true beauty. Never forget that."
Aurelia repeated it to Jerome one night, under the dark skies. The lights from the city drowned out the stars, and all they saw was the perpetual blackness. Shadows that obscured the unknown. When Aurelia reached out to take Jerome's hand, she found it trembling. Why, she was unsure. But the silence was beautiful and she dared not break it. Except for with six words.
"You deserve to be happy, Jerome."
Laughter is medicine. It was a broken record in his head, repeating over and over and over… Years passed, and the words still haunted his mind.
"Be happy, Jerome," he grinned. "You deserve it."
His mother's agape mouth cried a silent scream. Happy. He forced the hatchet out from her soft flesh. Happy. And Jerome Valeska laughed.