Thanks for continuing to read my story!

Thank you to phanrose, SloaneDestler, WolfShadow1, EvaLark, Badpixie06, YinuoTong, peanutpup, Aphaea21, amandarhoads1, MrsDianaBlack, smrb, Mominator124, Batty Dings, PhantomBove, Crol6425, crawfordphantomluvr, BehindTheMask31, Astrophysicschic, and Bellatrixie for your lovely reviews!

P.S.: No one has mentioned this, but I thought I should bring it up. I am aware that little Erik speaks to the reader in a bit too mature of a manner for a small child. There IS a reason for this (and I promise it's not lazy writing lol). Anyway, read on!

Erik

Chapter 29

The Village

By the time the show was done, my legs were numb and my wrists were bleeding where the rope had rubbed them raw.

Javert had just finished untying them when he pulled out his key, crammed it into the keyhole, and opened the door with astonishingly hot anger. He reached in and pulled me out by the collar, forcing me to my feet - and if he hadn't have been lifting me up like he did with his left hand, I might have fallen down from how weak my legs were from kneeling. He pulled his right hand back and hit me, hard, across the cheek; as he did, I could see the whites of his eyes from how wide they were as well as a deep flush on his face.

He'd been so pleasant, so friendly, just moments before with the last of his patrons. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his emotions.

At the impact of the hit, my mind buzzed, and so did my cheek In the moment, I didn't know what to think. I'd never been hit before - verbally, perhaps, but my mother didn't even want to touch me for punishment. And so when my cheek began to sting after the initial shock, a new sob wrenched itself free from my throat. This, combined with the last couple of torturous hours, made for a very black and blue swirl of emotions.

Disgusted, Javert let me drop to the ground, where I caught myself with my hands on my side. I continued crying where I lay.

"You're incredibly lucky that I made as much as I did tonight," snapped Javert from above. "But I'm not pleased about the family of three at the beginning. I had to refund them - they didn't get a show, and I'm not one to cheap out on my customers." He turned on his heels and went for the front door. "I'm going outside for a smoke. Stretch your legs a bit, and then it's back into the cage."

He exited.

From above me, I heard a whine. It reminded me so much of Sasha that I gasped as I looked to its source, relaxing when I remembered - and saw - Cerberus in his small prison.

Breathing shakily, I lifted my right hand to wipe at my tears, and then lifted myself to my feet, still feeling weak in the knees. I went to Cerberus's cage. All three heads stared at me as I watched him move from his belly to his forepaws in a sitting position. Sleek, black, and sharp-angled: if he'd been born ordinary, he would have been a beautiful, majestic beast. But he'd been born different. Born freakish. Like me.

Tentatively, I pressed my palm flat against the bars of his cage. "Hello, Cerberus," I whispered. "I'm Erik."

His middle head stretched forward, just as it had done before, and sniffed at my hand. The other two heads watched cautiously.

"I knew another dog," I continued, "her name was Sasha. She was beautiful - golden, curly-haired, and sweet. You would have liked her, I think, Cerberus. She was my friend." I swallowed. "Maybe we could be friends, too. You and me."

Now, all three heads were stretched forward to sniff my hand. As Left and Right sniffed, Middle retreated his head and licked his chops.

Taking a chance, I moved my fingers between the bars of the cage, keeping them still. Just as timid, Middle stretched his head out again, sniffed my fingers, and then flicked his tongue out to gently lick the tips of my digits.

The movement was so much like my own former dog that I found myself smiling. I giggled.

Cerberus's tail twitched as he watched me intently.

"Good boy," I whispered.

His tail moved left to right very subtly - but the motion was there. He licked my fingers a second time, and when I again giggled, his other two heads joined in.

Somehow - somehow - I had forgotten what had happened tonight, if only for the moment.

Maybe it would be all right.

If I could have a friend through this, maybe I could endure it - however long it lasted.

Even if it lasted forever.

We moved on after that.

The village was small enough that nearly everyone had visited the attraction, and it was time to go to the next town over. I would have three days to build the courage to face it all over again. And again. And again. Not that it took three days to travel - rather, Javert wanted time to build up some publicity in the town before opening up.

Javert didn't speak to me. It seemed, sometimes, as though he forgot that I was there. He only addressed me to ask me if I was hungry, thirsty, needed to relieve myself.

When he wasn't looking, and I was feeling particularly sad or anxious, I would slip my fingers up through the topmost part of the bars and curl them so that the tips touched the floor of Cerberus's cage, and I would feel myself relax as a warm wetness touched my skin. I think he liked it as much as me. It was becoming a way, at least for me, to say that we understood the other was there.

It was the hour before I was to be put on display. We were now on the outskirts of a place called Rouen, and I was being taken outside to the grass to conduct my personal business, that terrible leash around my neck. I was taken back inside, unleashed, and put back into the cage. Javert was preparing to tie my wrist to the cage when I spoke.

"Master?" I breathed. The word tasted vile in my mouth, but it was what he asked me to call him.

"What?" He didn't even look at me. He was pulling the small rope tight in his hands, testing its strength.

I took a deep breath. I'd had time to think about this proposition. I knew that he was a businessman - and he'd said that tears would get me nowhere. Perhaps, then, he wanted an exchange. I had no money, but I could make him money.

"If you don't tie my wrist to the cage," I whispered, "I promise to look into the eyes of all of your patrons."

He raised a yellow eyebrow. "I like that idea. Staring at them. But you'll be looking into their eyes anyway, with your wrists bound. Hold them out."

"I can still close my eyes," I said softly, quickly. "With my wrists bound. I can close my eyes. Nothing is stopping me from doing that."

He laughed shortly. "Oh, the beating you'll surely get for disobeying should be motivation enough not to do that."

"I can make it eerie," I added then. "I can smile."

He paused. "Smile?"

"Yes." I swallowed. "I've...been told it's unpleasant to look at."

My mother had said as much. I'd attempted, on occasion, to smile at her, to try to bridge something between us, but she'd told me how frightening I looked. That I reminded her of a grinning skull.

"Show me," he said simply.

So I did. Despite my having no motivation to smile at all, I stretched my face into a face of happiness - and the effect was immediate. Javert's expression twisted into a grimace and he made a noise of revulsion.

"Lord, that is repulsive," he said. He narrowed his eyes, thinking, and then said, "I will tell you what, boy. I like a good bargain. You give me something, and I will give you something in return. Smile like that while staring at my patrons, put on a small show of horror for them, and I will keep your wrists from their bindings. Do we have a deal?"

I nodded.

And I was true to my word.

To his credit, so was Javert.

That night, every single patron who walked into Javert's caravan was greeted to my smiling face, my staring eyes. I watched as men and women blanched, looked ready to vomit, stared back at me, laughed with genuine delight. They were intrigued by Cerberus, genuinely fascinated - not scared, but morbidly interested.

But like last time, their main focus was me. Le fils d'Hades. Women did still scream, and men did still curse, but it didn't have as much of an impact on me now.

Because although I was smiling, my teeth were in truth bared.

Although I was gazing upon my onlookers, my eyes were in truth full of hatred.

In the three days that I'd had to think, I'd come to realize that it wasn't Javert who was my enemy. Javert didn't care what I looked like. He'd never even reacted the first day he'd seen me. Javert was taking advantage of culture that both despised and was fascinated by those that were unlike them.

I think perhaps I was too young to even have these thoughts. Perhaps my mind recognized things it was far too inexperienced to normally consider.

But that was my burden then, and it would be my burden the rest of my life.

I was simply too aware.

Aware of myself.

And aware of how truly terrible people were.

They hated me.

And I hated them. Humans. All of them.

I hated them so, so much.

Because if a village of a hundred cannot handle one single member being dissimilar -

Then perhaps there is something deeply, disturbingly wrong with the village.