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That night, I dreamed of circus tents and acrobats and a mysterious prince dressed all in black. He was wearing a mask, so he could go out among the commoners without being recognized, but I knew it was him. I followed him through the crowd of spectators inside the big top, popcorn kernels and peanut shells crunching under my feet.
Every time I caught a glimpse of his intense aqua eyes peering out from behind that wide swath of black fabric, he would disappear again into the crowd. I had just found him, standing in the shadows beside the sawdust-covered stage, and was about to reach for his mask when a circus clown grabbed me from behind. He covered my mouth with his sweaty palm and chuckled as he dragged me away from my prince. I struggled against him, throwing my elbows and kicking my feet, but it was no use. He was so strong, and I was so light.
Too light, the doctors had said.
As the plump clown carried me onstage over his shoulder, a parade of dancers in white lab coats and white masks pranced out in a chorus line, shaking their fingers at me.
Doodle-oodle-oodle-oo, a series of cascading digital beeps sang out, ripping me from one nightmare into another.
I’d chosen the most cheerful ringtone I could find, but it didn’t matter. The sound still hit my brain like an atom bomb every time.
Opening my eyes, I squinted at the clock on my nightstand. It was after midnight.
Fuck.
Knight was the only one who ever called that late. Usually after being thrown out of a bar for almost killing someone with a broken beer bottle in a blackout fit of rage. I couldn’t talk to him like that. I couldn’t talk to him at all anymore. Not only because he was irrational and irate, but also because I knew why.
I was the only one who knew why.
My cell phone rang again in my hand as I carried it across my childhood bedroom, its illuminated screen lighting my way with an ominous green glow. I don’t know how, but even in my semiconscious condition, I could sense his presence, smell the notes of cinnamon in his musky cologne, and feel the heat and hatred radiating off his hulking body. I knew, even before I parted my nicotine-stained blinds, what I would find parked beneath the streetlight outside.
But that didn’t prepare me for the sheer terror of actually seeing it.
My fingers released the blinds, letting them fall closed as my hand flew to my gasping mouth. Even though our driveway was long and flanked by woods on both sides, I would know the shadowy figure standing at the end of it anywhere. He was the thing that went bump in the night. He was the monster under my bed. And the last time he’d shown up where I was, he’d crossed a line I swore I’d never let him get close enough to cross again.
“What’s the matter, Punk?” Knight’s voice was sinister as he approached. Predatory.
I always parked on a run-down side street near the concert venue where Hans’s band played. But that night, after the show, my car wasn’t the only familiar thing waiting for me on Mable Drive.
“You don’t look very happy,” he sneered.
I took a step backward and flinched when my lower back collided with the tailgate of his jacked-up monster truck.
“That is what you said, isn’t it? That you’re so much happier now?” Knight threw my earlier words back in my face as he came to a stop right in front of me.
I saw his hand shoot out, but all I had time to do was wince before he wrapped his meaty palm around my jaw.
Knight dug his thumb and fingers into the corners of my mouth and pushed them up into a forced grin. “Smile, Punk. Show me how fucking happy he makes you.”
Hot tears slid down my mortified face as I tried to slap Knight’s hand away. “Fuck you!” I mumbled through my misshapen mouth, shoving his hard chest with both hands.
Knight shook his head from side to side. “Tsk-tsk. That’s not very ladylike, princess.”
“Don’t call me that!” I yelled, kicking him in the shin.
“But you like being his little princess. You said he made you happy.” Knight’s grip on my mouth tightened, pushing the corners of my mouth up even higher.
I closed my eyes, causing more tears to spill down my cheeks, and whispered through my clenched teeth, “I hate you.”
Knight leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine. He smelled like Southern Comfort and Camel Lights.
Just like me.
“Good,” Knight whispered.
Without releasing my distorted smile, he slammed his mouth against the upturned seam of my lips.
I waited for the spark. The zap of electricity that coursed from my head to my feet like a lightning bolt seeking the earth whenever Knight’s lips touched mine.
