Stagnant air swirled with dust, mold in the corners of the room with a locked door. Those are the first things you noticed. No one has entered, no one has left, no one is here. You are alone. Your are scared. The only noise heard is the screeching of the carnival rides and the deafening music. Your own screams refuse to reach your ears. Knuckles, knees and elbows are bleeding, pain. But it keeps you sane. The only way to know you aren't asleep, that this isn't a dream. Lips are chapped, your throat is torn. Tiredness pulls at your eyes, you know you'll die soon. Were you just brought here to rot? It seems unusual, pointless. It seems to be same thing everyday, just waiting.
You wake up, food is in the corner. Nothing else changes. You stare into it, wondering what could be in it, wonder if its poisoned. You eat it, desperation taking over. This is pathetic, and everything seems odd here. Its not just that you are in an unmoving train car, but the air of this circus is off. Maybe you are finally going insane.
The room has a bed and stored circus supplies, you are curled up near clubs when someone walks in. You were waiting for this. Swallow thickly and know what you have to do, its risky, but rather you be dead then sit through this. your palms become sweaty as you clench and unclench your fist onto a club, the man gets closer. wait, swing too early and its over… closer, closer, swing! a dull thunk is heard, disgusting.
You run. Scared beyond the point of recognizing backgrounds. You hand refuses to let go of the club. Every so often a crack is heard. If its you swinging you can't register. To long in that room, to long since you've seen humans. They are all nothing now, things to you. Much to unreal.
You've been going through doors. New surroundings cover you, drown you, scare you. No, you are past the point of being scared. This new feeling has no fear, its.. power. A new door appears, much nicer than the rest. And light, light is coming out. All this time in the dark makes you giddy. Running through you stop, this is not outside. There is no ground, only carpet. There is no sun, but lamps. There are no crowds, one man. He looks proud.
You and no longer scared, you are strong, you swing. You miss. You fall. You are hit. Pain. Darkness. You stare at the man who hit you before its all over; dark hair, long and untamed, painted face, rainbow hands. He is disgusting, he smiles, and he strikes.
"Nice job, Bard." He spits, confusion takes over in the last moments, your name isn't bard...is it?
A/N: I bet you all thought it would be Karkat, eh? Its Gamzees past! So the POV will change depending on the chapters mood, its my artist choice /shrugs/. The theme song for this is going to be Hateful Wonderland no question. Ok I got the warnings for this story in a line: Violence, Abduction, Masochism, Implied Sex, and Self harm. The Characters will be Slightly OC and I apologize.