Chapter 7 - Collapse

It was with great effort that Credence managed to force himself off the ground, his vision blurring as the room dipped and spun before his eyes. The next thing he knew Skender had seized him around the waist, holding him upright as he slumped against the ringmaster.

"Credence?" The voice was distant, almost concerned.

The Obscurial mumbled something against Skender's coat, the words dribbling incoherently past his lips. He had been overcome by an immense weariness that had nothing to do with the short sleep he'd had during the last weeks, and was now struggling not to lose consciousness on the shoulder of his employer.

"Credence!" Louder this time, coupled with the sound of anxious hissing from somewhere to his left. "Are you alright? Say something, boy."

Credence nodded weakly, allowing himself to be led outside into the early morning sunlight. He soon became aware of lighthearted carnival music drifting from the adjacent tent, and he realized, much to his dismay, that his hair and clothing were wet with perspiration and sticking to his skin.

The music was getting louder, his mind a chaotic haze of sights and sounds as they approached the exhibition tent. He could still hear his mother yelling, the belt carving a path though his flesh as he bowed his head, shaking and muttering under his breath. Then all at once he felt a pair of hands, gripping his shoulders and shaking him.

"What is wrong with you?" Skender's voice was harsh, not unlike that of his adoptive mother.

Still trembling, Credence looked around and saw that they were inside the exhibition tent, his fellow performers standing off to the side, watching. How could he make them understand that it was everything, from haunted dreams to horrifying memories, shouting voices and this... this truly monstrous creature that was tearing him apart?

They didn't share in his affliction, his anger returning as he glared at each of them in turn. It was only the snake girl who understood what he was going through. When he was with her his mind settled. Things were quiet, things were simple. There was nothing but smoke and scales drifting in a plane of nonexistence. Out here the world was too complicated, and he was afraid. Terrified, but at the same time consumed with hatred.

He was startled out of his reverie when the hands that held him spun him around, shoving him towards a series of rings suspended in midair.

Credence stumbled forward, his heart beating frantically as the Obscurus clawed at his insides.

He knew the routine well by now: leap up like a trained animal, grasping the first ring and swinging to the next. Once he gained enough momentum, he was to let go in midair, changing into his Obscurus form and soaring through the center rings before changing back and catching the last ring. This was to be done in time to music, and for added effect Skender would light the middle rings on fire for the audience's amusement.

He was still a moment, black wisps rising and swirling about his lean form. He felt lightheaded and he wanted to faint. To just collapse and allow his Obscurus to consume his very being. And if he fell from the rings in the process, if he gave himself a concussion on the dry, dusty earth, so what? At least he would be out of this for a while.

Credence took a running leap and felt his fingers close around the first ring. There was a sudden flash, a memory of his mother raising her fist, and Credence gasped, feeling a sharp pain surging through his palms. It was enough to make him lose his grip, his legs flailing pathetically as one hand slid from the metal ring.

"Dammit, Credence!" A whip cracked, the sound splitting the air. "Pay attention!"

A moan slithered past his lips, eyes widening as the Obscurial glanced the ringmaster swinging his whip. There was another crack, and this time Credence managed to grasp the ring with both hands, hoisting himself up and reaching for the second ring.

Credence grabbed the third ring, then the fourth, adrenaline surging through his veins. He couldn't stop. Stopping meant pain and punishment for his mistakes. Though by now his palms were slick with sweat, heat spreading throughout his body like wildfire.

He was nearing the center rings when a howl of agony erupted from the seething mass that spread to consume his body. This sickly, feral cry quickly rose in volume only to die moments later when he struck the ground, solidifying and lying on his side in the dirt.