A/N: Here, my darling readers and lurkers, is me honoring my promise of updating more frequently. Although this chapter is on the short side, I believe you will understand why upon reading it…Trigger warning: this chapter includes violence, self-harm, suicidal ideations/attempts, and may just simply be downright disturbing. Please read at your own discretion. Enjoy…
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Ringmaster
"Kills me, it thrills me…kills me, it thrills me…"
He could not yet utter the words, even though he had been coughing up blood for over an hour. He reached up to flush the toilet again; spitting what was left into the crimson water swirling downward – always downward – away and into nothingness…
Such were the pieces of his life. He smothered a laugh with his hand, standing shakily to pull himself up in front of the sink, to the gold encrusted mirror. He looked at himself through a single swollen eye, for the other had been pinned shut against purple and yellow bruising. He hummed the melody again, pulling back lips that were mangled with sores and cuts, trying out his new smile.
It was so very wide; a face was split into dual halves. He chuckled, moving his head around carefully to inspect the inflamed handprints on his neck.
"Kills me," he whispered softly, running a hand across the imprint of two large hands. "Thrills me." He reached inside of a small leather satchel sitting on the countertop, pulling a curved needle and some thread from its modest depths. "Kills me…"
Raoul tucked the thread through the needle with shaking hands, bringing it closer to his open eye to ensure there was a clean knot upon both ends. He coughed up another splash of blood into the sink before pressing his face to the glass, closing his eyes against the sting of the needle through his open cheek.
"In and out, over and through," he murmured, a mere inch away from the looking glass to watch the passage of the needle. As minutes stretched by, the skin began to meld together with stark black stitching, and he clipped the end of the thread, pushing himself back to examine his work.
"For me, fuck-face? A gift? I don't know what to say…oh, I love it. Thank you," he whispered, stroking a pale finger down the curved stiches that pulled his mouth back together. "Now, we match…" he simpered, swabbing his engorged eye socket with a small pad of alcohol.
"Who could I have reminded you of? Was I a blue-eyed German – the one that kept you tied up and captive? Was I your slave driver, your torturer…the one who cradled your life in the palm of his hands?"
Raoul glanced up into the mirror, blinking twice before the blood began to clear from his skin. He held onto the sides of the sink with trembling hands as his swollen eye opened, clear and blue, as if it had never been ravaged at all.
"Ringmaster," he bowed his head, his ravaged lips shivering with the inflammation of the sores. "I'm going to end it. She's left me. I have nothing left. Nothing. No…hope. No…future…no patient to work on, no new medications or studying…"
"You never cared about the medication, dear, sweet Raoul," Ringmaster crooned, cocking his head in the mirror. The handprints were brighter upon him, as if they had been smeared with luminous red paint instead of purple bruising. "You wanted to see how far she'd go. How far she would run. Isn't it funny? It's all just a game."
"A game," Raoul repeated softly, eyeing the revolver that lay next to the base of the toilet. "But how do I know for sure?"
"She can't run far. You own her. She's nothing but a child."
"Yes, but…but fuck-face took her away."
Ringmaster narrowed his eyes, pushing a hand through his tousled blonde hair. "Fuck-face can be dealt with, naturally. You'll take his life."
"Why?"
"He bested you."
"I didn't even want her anymore."
"Liar…look in the mirror, you insignificant thing. You cannot lie…not…to…me."
"I don't want to kill him."
"Why? Because you're a timid, wretched little boy? You could never even hurt her, no…little burns, here and there, some strangling, a bit of yelling…and you stopped yourself. Don't you want to see how deep it goes? Don't you want to find out how it feels?"
Raoul grimaced. "How what feels?"
Ringmaster paused, lifting his chin. "How it feels to take a life. Close your eyes."
Raoul slowly closed one eye, biting into the side of his cheek.
"Imagine how your life could be. You can get her back, put a child inside of her. She will have to stay with you forever. And once fuck-face is dead…you'll be all that she has. Do you see it, now? Do you see the holes in his chest, bleeding like rivers…do you see them?"
"I…" Raoul cocked the hammer, letting out a long breath as the chamber whirred and clicked. "I see them. He's dead, there's blood in his eyes…and it was me. I did it. I killed him."
"Yes," Ringmaster whispered, his voice a smooth, melodic song. "You can see what I see."
"She'll hate me. She won't go with me. Even if he's dead." Raoul pushed the barrel inside of his mouth, pulling at the stitches that were tightly woven into his skin.
"She's alone in this world. She's a straw doll held together by bits of string. She's nothing. Especially without you."
"I'll just pull the trigger once. Just once."
"Fine," Ringmaster challenged, his eyes ablaze in the mirror. "Pull the fucking trigger. See if you can imagine what it will be like. But instead…if fate will have you live, it can be shoved down his measly throat instead of yours."
Raoul squeezed his eye shut, his fingers shaking upon the small black curve of metal that was the trigger. Tears started blurring the edges of his vision, and he heard Ringmaster cackling, watching his terrific indecision. He let the barrel slide out of his mouth, and it fell from his bloodless hands, clattering loudly upon the tiled floor.
Ringmaster sniggered. "Did you really think you had the courage to do it? To kill us both?"
"I…I…I don't think I can do it."
"Of course you can't," Ringmaster sighed impatiently. "There is hope, don't you see? Don't you see that you must kill him while you live? He's taken something precious from you. Something that makes you whole, little Raoul. Close your eyes, envision it, and truly see it! There…that's it."
Raoul's bloated lips formed into a small smile as he imagined Christine, back in his arms…waiting for him as he came home, letting him kiss the side of her cheek…
"But I'm cruel to her, Ringmaster. I snap at her like a snake. Shouldn't she…"
"Cruel?" Ringmaster laughed bitterly. "You saved her from that orphanage. You saved her from becoming a filthy seamstress, from becoming a whore begging for money on the street corner. You gave her another chance at life…a chance to be a ballerina, to dance underneath lights so bright they could be the sun…"
"What if she's happier with him? Without me?" Raoul pressed his fingers into the porcelain sides of the sink, glaring into the mirror. "Did you ever think of that?"
"You know that isn't true. She is only alive because of you! You let her live. How merciful, how utterly divine! Life is such a precious gift, Raoul…as you've just learned by dropping the barrel from your twisted lips."
"He twisted them," Raoul whispered, touching a hand to the stitches, tracing the ugly, curved line that now was a permanent mark upon his face. "He did this to me."
Ringmaster nodded slowly, his blue eyes smoldering in the mirror. "He needs another mark, now…a much more, permanent one. Take his life, Raoul. See the empty look that creeps across his skin, out through his soul and into his eyes…memorize it and play it in your head forever."
"Then…if I do…she…she will come back to me?"
"No, don't be a fool. You'll take her back. She's your property. And she'll be glad for it, oh yes, she will! She'll rejoice a thousand times over. You will have saved her from that disgusting, disgraceful beast of a man without a face."
"All right," Raoul's breathing was labored as he watched Ringmaster, coming in and out through his bruised windpipe with loud, restricted gasps of air. "When do I kill him?"
Ringmaster smiled, showing all of his perfect, bone white teeth. The stitches stretched at his skin as well, but his eyes stayed focused upon Raoul. "Wait in the shadows, make him think you've disappeared. Make him think that you're gone from their lives, forever. Let them live in their made-up, half painted paradise…let her see what it's like without you. And then…" Ringmaster paused, flicking his tongue over the front of his teeth. "Take your revolver, and shoot him six times in the chest. Remember the holes I told you about? Oh, sweet little Raoul, don't you see it now, as clearly as I do? Those holes already exist. You just need to open them up with a little…persuasion."
"Persuasion," Raoul repeated, his eyes falling to the revolver on the blue tiled floor. It stuck out strangely, a mishap in the turquoise of the painted tiles, a glitch or a scar upon someone's cheek, now transferred seamlessly to his own…
"Sing our song, sing it without fear!" Ringmaster howled, his eyes burning holes through the glass in the mirror. Raoul smiled widely, ignoring the painful pull of his stitches.
"Thrills me…it kills me…thrills me…"
"It KILLS me!" Ringmaster screamed, his eyes falling so far open that they seemed to melt down past his lids and into the flesh of his cheeks. His laughter echoed endlessly, and Raoul found himself laughing along with him until his stomach seemed it might burst from pressure and pain.
"Now, I want to feel something good, something real…she broke both of our hearts by leaving, you know. Not just yours, little Raoul," Ringmaster said gravely, wiping tears of laughter from the inner corners of his eyes. "Bring the heroin, bring the painkillers, the liquor to burn my throat! Oh, we've got to celebrate a good, shattered heart, now don't we?"
"I never mix heroin and alcohol," Raoul retorted, raising both of his eyebrows.
"Oh, you must try it, you must! We've done it before, perhaps once, but still…our hearts slowed down and almost stopped beating. But in comes the cocaine, the savior of us all! It can bring a heartbeat back, we've done it, you've seen it! Close your eyes and imagine how it felt. How it feels…"
Raoul closed his only open eye once more. "Yes…I do remember…"
"Of course you do!" Ringmaster hissed, slamming his forehead upon the cold pane of the glass. "I was with you, you idiotic child. Now go, get it all and bring it in here. I want you to enjoy this with me…I want you to feel what I feel…this heavy, terrible emptiness that splits my chest wide open. Should we make it even and split your stitches again? You can re-sew them, easily…"
"Yes," Raoul whispered, bowing his head as if responding to his master. "I can re-sew them quite easily."
"Then rip them, dear Raoul…rip them open and let me see that perfect, half-face smile he gave you! Do you want to hide from what he did? Are you afraid of him?"
"Never," Raoul chuckled darkly, sweeping a finger down the side of his neck. "I'll give him more than just another scar. I'll put six holes in his chest. His body will run red like a bleeding river."
"Good, good! Yes…perfect. Now run, get your satchel, your needles, your liquor! Let us celebrate this momentous occasion…the ripping, searing pain of not one, but two, shattered hearts!"
Raoul left the mirror in a daze, his eyes shimmering with childish delight as he searched through his desk drawers. He pulled out a leather satchel filled with needles and vials, kissing the skin of the leather with grateful lips. He whirled around, searching for a darkened decanter of liquor, when his eyes caught something in the old guest bedroom. He wandered into the doorway, noticing that a drawer on an old dresser had not been completely shut. He shoved the satchel of vials underneath one arm, while violently pulling the drawer out, digging through what looked like Christine's old ballet shoes, and…
A scratched up, ebony facemask. He narrowed his eyes, plucking it from where it had been tucked away safely under old bits of satin and cloth. Raoul stared at the mask, his fingers twitching slightly, pulling an invisible string from the back that must have held it in place.
Close your eyes…
Raoul pulled the mask onto his face. "Six holes in his chest," he repeated softly, whirling upon his heels to return to the bathroom mirror. "Six rivers of blood. They're already there, waiting for me…" he chuckled, undoing the ties upon the kit that held several vials.
"Thrills me, it kills me…thrills me, it…
kills…me…"
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A/N: I know this was a pretty insane chapter. Let me know what you think. Love, L.