The morning after rolled over us like tide waves, crushing us under the weights of truth that got exposed with every wash of light. The bright early rays exposed the evident chaos. The hasty early morning packing showed the true colors of tired, overworked, hopeless people. It was a mix of yelling and dreaded silence that was just soul crushing.

I had to wash off yesterdays dust and the remainder of gold pigment with night cold water because the water heater was already disconnected and ready to move. In an hour all my belongings were safely tugged away and our trailer was arranged into the existing caravaning order. One by one every trailer of the fair lined up on the outskirts of our plot. A whole street filled with them. Awaiting the signal to go.

I hadn't really spoken to anybody yet. I'd found and lost Patrick a handful of times in the busy ants nest that was the living quarters, until we finally agreed to meet up right before Home Run when the whole crowd flocked to their trailers. I had decided early that I didn't want to see May again. I just couldn't bear it. So when the summoning call came, I walked down the road to our trailer and didn't look back at the front yard where she rested. We would drive by her on the way out and I wouldn't look because carny people never looked back at what or who was left on the road. Call it superstition but once it was out of our lives, no one ever talked about it anymore. The lost weren't only dead or gone, they were obliterated and erased out of everybody's consciousness. Like they had never existed.

Maybe it was easier that way for the people who remained. The turnover was just too much. If you got attached, you'd lose too much of your heart to everybody who left. So we pretend we don't and maybe we would stop caring eventually.

Patrick joined me and silently held my hand as we walked on what remained of the street between our trailers and the other fair's gates. It had all the ingredients of a parade but instead of amazed customers we were watched by some of the rival performers that had gathered behind their fences to bid us farewell with their middle finger while we quit the field.

It was humiliating and infuriating at the same time.

Throughout the night, Frank's conspiracy had grown roots in my brain and it took all my willpower to resist glaring at the onlookers. Especially the group of younger men that so charmingly introduced themselves at the diner what seemed like months ago. I had already forgotten their names. But their maliciously gleeful faces I couldn't erase.

It must have been them, maybe not them specifically but the other carnival as a whole. Fires didn't start out of nowhere. Someone had to have set it, someone willing to risk lives. Hurt performers' pride was as good a reason as any. Especially when your reputation is all you have and all that counts.

It didn't even register that they were talking to me but Patrick whispered not to listen to them. Even now their scorn followed me, only elated by our obvious loss and the absence of Donald who had previously so enthusiastically defended me.

Of course, I couldn't not listen after Patrick had pointed it out. Even though retrospectively, I'd preferred I hadn't.

"Ah Victor's little princess. We watched your show last night." One of the guys hollered in his hard Russian accent. I eyed the group inconspicuously and pretended not to hear them. Their laughter was harder to ignore than their biting remarks.

Another one of the group chimed in. "What a little fire can do, eh?"

"Greet the scarecrow from us if he didn't catch fire."

"Too bad that the elephant didn't make it. Katharina would have loved another addition to her herd."

We were already past them but I had to stop, I just couldn't help myself.

"Just a second." I dropped Patrick's hand and turned on my heels. He didn't hold me back but followed me in a safe distance. It took me five steps to reach the group of guys and three seconds to punch the surprised face of the nearest one. I didn't care if he had actually said it or if it was another one of his friends. They were all equally vile and guilty for this.

He didn't fall to the ground. In fact, the impact barely made his head turn and it probably hurt my fist more than his nose but the look on his face was worth more than any Turn-away night.

They talked to each other in Russian and I left before I could find out what they were discussing. On my way back, I grabbed Patrick by his sleeve and pulled him back to our side of the street where some of our workers already dropped their crates in preparation of retaliation. But it didn't escalate like that. Someone getting punched by a girl probably wasn't enough of a provocation to start anything with our desperate group of angry men. Not when their fair had already won and we were on the way out.

I hid on the other side of my parent's car, suddenly paranoid of some kind of payback or my parents getting wind of my manners. On the other side, I was still so full of adrenaline that I didn't feel the swelling and redness of my fist at first and I almost felt invincible. I had nothing to lose.

"You're full of surprises." Patrick watched me sit down in the open back seat car door. "Didn't take you for the violent kind."

"Well, I'm not." I answered distinctly and rubbed my fist. "They deserved it."

"Can't argue against that." He sounded reluctantly amused while his eyes began to absentmindedly scan the ground between my dangling feet.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, curiously reminded of the fact that he still wanted to explain the promised task to me that he had to fulfill for the Boss the night before the show.

He hummed and only casually looked up when a row of workers passed us with bundles.

"Can we talk about it later?" He sounded like he admitted to a crime.

I furrowed my brows and my carefully pieced together sanity threatened to fall apart again just by the slightest prospect of bad news.

"Another thing you want to tell me later? Or is it the same thing?" My slight annoyance couldn't go unnoticed by him.

He looked at me surprised by my sudden mood and I couldn't exactly decipher why. Maybe because he didn't think I'd remember or maybe he didn't think I'd be annoyed that I was constantly putt off.

"No, no." He tried to appease me. "Now is not the right time, that's all."

"Judging by the last week and the fact that there isn't going to be a silver lining any time soon, now is a good a time as any. And making me wait for bad news isn't going to make them better." I continued to frown at him and he continued to play it off.

He even stepped in front of me and ducked into the door opening while resting his hands on the frame. "I'm not trying to keep anything from you. I just want to talk about it without having a dozen people running around us."

I knew what he tried to do. He looked at me intensely, swaying his eyes to my lips and back. He positioned himself between my knees, towering over me while simultaneously being close enough to touch. A desperate attempt at distracting me. Hadn't I been tired enough or drained enough, I would've probably been convinced.

I sat up straight and it was already nearly enough for our lips to touch. But that was too easy. I remained an inch away from his face and let my hands do the rest. My fingertips had an easy time slipping under his baggy light blue t-shirt and I let my palm run over his sides and stomach.

When he tired to close the gap between our lips, I used my hands under his shirt to lightly push him back far enough to look me in the eyes.

"Nice try, Jane. Don't play your games with me." I breathed and took a second to regain my own constitution. "At least tell me if you were with Frank and his crew the night before this?"

His face remained featureless and for a second I had hope. "I was. Did you talk to him?"

I swallowed and retained my own nondescript composure. "We talked before he left tonight. He said that the fire was retaliation for what the Boss made you do."

We fought silently over who could remain most unbothered and finally he gave in. "I didn't know for sure and I didn't want to unnecessarily alarm – hurt you."

"So you think Frank is right?" I retreated my hands, both disappointed and relieved.

Now Patrick, too, abandoned his stance and let himself fall against side of the car. "It's probable. I saw the source of the fire. It looked like multiple puddles were burning before the tarp caught on. Firefly told everyone who he could get ahold of that it wasn't his fluid. He was very adamant about it. I heard the Boss made him show him his stash. If he was suspicious, he wouldn't be here today, that much I know. The Boss would've gotten rid of him immediately."

It was my turn to be absorbed in my thoughts. When the Boss looked for a reason in secret and found none among his own people, he must conclude that it has been the others. "Why did he beat around the bush like that then? If he, too, thinks it was our neighbors? It seems very unlike him to just retreat with his tail between his legs."

Patrick answered in a low voice, as if scared to be overheard."The circumstances are too precarious. He tries to safe his business and keep everyone together which will be futile if everyone finds out that the cause of this disaster was his order. And Frank's not wrong for getting out while he can. It will get very ugly once people find out who gave the reason for the sabotage."

"You think people will be angry at you?"

Patrick sighed and kicked an innocent rock into the meadow. "Well… Are you not? I think angry will be an understatement."

His voice was drenched in bitter irony and he barely looked at me out of the corner of his eyes. I scooted forward until my soles reached the stony road shoulder and used the time to weigh my emotions.

"No, I'm not angry." was my answer. "I think not."

Patrick gave me more time to think about it. Better: he gave himself time to deduce what he thought my real emotions were because he couldn't believe I didn't feel anger at all. Even I couldn't.

"I think I'm just sad." I admitted with a bleating voice. "We focused so much on getting May back that we maybe did too much, I don't know. Maybe I was just selfish. I could've helped Pete work with her and get a good act going. I could've found some other act for myself or focus on assisting Pete. I mean really assist him. Not sabotage him and use him for my own goals. There must have been another way that I didn't see. Any other way that didn't lead to this. If I hadn't wanted this so bad, you wouldn't have had to follow the order and there would've been no need for them to retaliate. If only I had not been so selfish, May would still be alive. She could still have her fun annoying Pete. – She didn't deserve to die like that."

"Don't blame yourself. It didn't matter if I was there or not. Frank would've been sent out either way, no matter the situation with May. And you just tried to do what is best for May and yourself. It's not reprehensible to look after yourself, too. You always strive to do what's right. Sometimes bad things just happen and it has nothing to do with what you did or didn't do. It just happens and the only thing we can do is deal with it."

I smiled bitterly at his attempt to lighten my burden even though it was in vain. "But I could have done something. Maybe I should have lead her off the stage earlier when the backstage exit was still open. Instead I just lead her in circles and tried to keep her calm. Honestly! Who's calm when you're trapped in a fire. I demanded more of her than I could do myself. I was so scared - too scared to think straight. I shouldn't have lead her onto the stage in the first place. I felt that something was wrong and I still lead her out."

It didn't take long for Patrick to answer. In fact, he could barely let me finish my sentence and he grew more and more vigorous the longer he spoke. "Annie, I know you did all you could. I had to drag you out of the fire and the first question you asked was if May was ok. There's nothing more you could have done, no matter what you're trying to tell yourself right now. You even broke a six foot two Russian's nose. Don't be so hard on yourself."

The way his face lit up when he talked about me punching the guy, made me smile in a weird flattered way and finally, I gave in. "Maybe you're right. But I hate this feeling of guilt. It's almost worse than feeling sad, if that makes sense."

He hummed and looked up at the tree tops as if they were the source of his wisdom. "It gets easier with time, the guilt and sadness. I promise. If only because you can rationally tell yourself that it's not your fault over and over again until you start to believe it."

In a wave of stupidity, I almost asked him how he knew, but bit my tongue just in time. Of all the people, he would have experienced loss the most and I almost felt stupid to whine about the guilt over the death of my elephant to him, who had lost his mother and with her, the father figure he deserved.

I reached for his hand and finally found the right tone to answer. "Yes. You're right. It wasn't our fault."

He squeezed my hand and made me hiss in pain. "Wrong hand." I wheezed and tried to retreat my hand.

"Sorry." he immediately eased his grip and crouched down to observe the damage my knuckles had taken. "How did I never know you're left handed?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I rarely feel the need to break your nose. Or you're just really inattentive when it comes to what my hands are doing." I joked, maybe inappropriately, trying to gloss over the throbbing in my knuckles.

He showed off his infuriating habit of ignoring my jibs completely. "It looks like you should put ice on that."

I tried to play it cool and shrugged when in reality, I'd really like to do so but couldn't because having ice on hand was too energy consuming for our old trailer. "Still felt really good to punch that guy."

Patrick surveyed me quickly through his lashes before his attention shifted to the forming bruises between my fingers. "Wait until you realize there's much better things to do with your hand than hitting strangers."

Maybe he didn't ignore the insinuation completely. A self-assured smirk graced his face even without seeing my bright red face.

"You are impossible." I huffed flabbergasted.

"You're the one that's blushing. Get your mind out of the gutter." He murmured, not taking his eyes off the back of hand.