Chapter 11
XI. DOLL
How could you want someone who treats you so poorly?
How can you want someone who doesn’t want you back?
What kind of sickness is that? It isn’t love.
Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. This is torture.
This is wanting what hurts you most. This isn’t lust. This is wrong.
Wrong in ways I can’t even name. But I have never wanted anyone more.
My body begs for his touch like it’s starving for something it shouldn’t need.
I love Rio. I always will. I promised that even in ten years, I would still love him. And I meant it. But this?
He’s gone. I know he’s gone. I know he died so I could live. But living feels like betrayal. Trying to love someone else feels like I’m the one who killed him. And it hurts. It hurts in places I didn’t even know existed.
When I was with Tristan, it wasn’t like this.
Maybe because I only gave him what I could.
My body. My time. Never my heart. That stayed with Rio.
But now, my body, my mind, my heart, they all want someone who doesn’t even care if I break.
Someone who treats me like I belong to him when I don’t belong anywhere.
And the worst part? I might like it. I might like being wanted, even if it’s cruel. I might like belonging to someone, even if it destroys me. Maybe I am that broken. Maybe I was never enough for myself to begin with.
When you’re little, you believe in love.
You believe in fairytales and happy endings.
You believe that when you fall, someone will catch you.
That love will save you. That it will be soft and perfect.
But when you grow up, you realize fairy tales lie.
Love doesn’t save you. Life doesn’t wait for you to heal.
And even if you find something good, you live in fear that it’ll be ripped away.
That fear eats you alive until there’s nothing left but the pain of losing something you never even got to keep.
And me? I’m still that stupid little girl who believes. Who dreams of falling in love at first sight. Who hopes someone will see her and just know. I felt it when I looked at him. My stomach twisted, my heart begged, my mind screamed. He could be it. He could be the one to ruin me completely.
I saw all the red flags. Every single one. But I wanted to fix them. I wanted him to turn green for me, to stay red for everyone else. I wanted to be the reason he changed. I wanted to believe I was worth that.
He moved closer, his eyes locked on mine.
He untied my legs first, then my hands. My pride fell somewhere between us.
When he helped me down, I leaned into him without meaning to.
My body forgot how to stay away. His eyes met mine, but there was something inside them that made me forget to breathe.
Something that felt like a second chance.
Maybe.
My feet touched the ground, but my heart didn’t. I lifted my hand to his chest. I kissed him, closing my eyes, praying for something that wasn’t real.
But he didn’t kiss me back.
He laughed.
A tear slid down my cheek.
He didn’t want this.
He didn’t want me.
He didn’t feel it.
He just wanted to own a doll, but he didn’t want a doll with a soul.
He started to laugh, staring straight at me.
“Look at you,” he said. He stepped closer, grabbed my jaw, and shoved me back against the wooden wheel. “You’re embarrassing,” he spat.
Another tear slipped down my cheek. “I…” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? Me? Why am I apologizing? I didn’t do anything wrong.
Yet that familiar urge crawled up inside me, the one that makes me beg for forgiveness even when I’m the one bleeding.
The bearded lady entered, her expression tense.“Take her away,” he ordered. “Basement.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Mia!” he shouted, his voice cracking through the tent. “I said, take her away!”
She moved toward me quickly. “Come on, dear.”
She slipped her arm under mine, guiding me gently. As we started to walk out, I looked back just in time to see him hurl another knife at the wheel, his growl echoing behind us.
“I don’t know…” I whispered to her, my voice breaking. “What did I do?”
She gripped my arm tighter, walking faster. “It’s not you, dear,” she said quietly. “It’s him.”
I wiped my face, looking at her. She kept her eyes ahead.
“He grew up having everything he ever wanted,” she said. “But the one thing he wanted most, he never got.”
We hurried through the narrow path between the tents.
“And what’s that?” I asked.
“Love,” she said, almost smiling. “Someone who grows up without a heart can’t love.”
She released my hand and stepped ahead of me. “You can’t fix him,” she said over her shoulder. Then she stopped, turning back. “You coming?”
I followed her.
The carnival sounds faded behind us until the music was only a hum.
The lights blurred into the distance, and now in front of us were the stands selling sweets and popcorn.
On one, balloons were swaying just right next to the mirror maze tent.
The Ferris wheel turned slowly, purple and green bulbs almost hypnotising me.
We didn’t climb the stairs of the main house; instead, she led me around the back. She unlocked a padlock and pulled open a small door, stepping aside.
“You have to go in,” she said.
My voice trembled. “What’s in there?”
She smiled. “Nothing good.”
I didn’t ask again.
My body froze at the doorway, something heavy pressing in my chest. But she grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. The stairs creaked with every step we took down, and when we reached the bottom, she flipped a switch.
The light buzzed on, and the smell hit me. There was something rotten clinging to the air. I gagged, covering my nose. There was something around, on shelves and on the floor, all around. Mannequins. Their painted faces stared from the corners, looking so human to make my skin crawl.
I didn’t dare to look too long.
My heart pounded, my hands trembled, and as I stepped further in, I saw the chains.
She pushed me forward, and I fell to the ground. My palms hit the cold floor.
She knelt beside me, “People here have no soul,” she whispered. Her voice was soft. “No heart.”
She offered me her hand, and I took it. But as soon as I did, she pulled me upward, yanking my arm high above my head. The chain clinked, and cold metal hit my wrist as she locked it in place. Then she took another chain and fastened my other hand beside it.
“You’re too innocent for this place,” she murmured. “Too pure.”
I swallowed hard as she moved behind me.
I heard the faint sound of metal sliding free. A knife. She drew it from the corset pressed tight against her ribs.
The blade’s edge slipped under the ties of my corset and sliced them clean. The corset loosened and fell, pooling at my feet. My breasts bared to the air, skin prickling as the chill wrapped around me.
She picked up the corset from the ground and walked in front of me. Something was in front of me, covered in black silk. She pulled the cloth away, and underneath were three mirrors. One large one was in the center, and two smaller ones on the sides.
My reflection stared back at me. Bare chest, red skirt clinging to my hips, socks halfway down my legs. My hair was a tangled mess of braids hanging over my shoulders, and my makeup was smeared by tears.
“Why?” I choked out. “Why are you doing this?”
She stood beside me, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “Some dolls need to be taught a lesson before they truly belong here.”
She turned and walked away.
In front, in the mirror, I could only see her black dress trailing behind her and the neat ponytail swinging at the back of her head.
I kept staring at myself until the tears came again.
I thought I had already reached hell, but I was wrong. This was worse.
This was who I was now: a broken, miserable doll made for him to own.
My head dropped, pride falling with it. I remembered what it meant to live in the House of Clowns. How they stripped you piece by piece until there was nothing left but painted faces and false smiles. You didn’t live for yourself anymore. You lived for the show. And the one who owned it.
And now, the same place took a different name. He was the ringmaster of the lost.
Circo de Perdutti. The Circus of the Lost.
I don’t know how long I had been down here. Time slipped away from me. All I knew was that my body had gone numb. My arms burned, my legs were numb, every muscle stretched until I felt like I was coming apart.
My chest hurt too, a dull pain that throbbed with each breath. I felt sorry for myself, and I hated that I did.
The door creaked open. A rush of cold air swept over my skin, and my nipples hardened from the chill.
Each step that followed, I could hear as an echo through the room. Metal was clicking, wood groaning under his weight, until I saw him in the mirror. He moved closer.
He wore black leather pants, his upper body naked.
Muscles shifted under his skin with each step, covered in tattoos and scars.
His face was still painted in black and white, still like a skull.
His hair was slicked back, wet, and streaks of black paint dripped down his neck and shoulders like it was melting.
“Oh, Dolly,” he shouted with a high-pitched, crazy laugh. “I’m back.”
He dropped a length of chain.
His eyes looked darker now, matching the monster inside him. The smile that followed sent a shiver down my spine. I hated how, even knowing what he was, my body still reacted. Still begged.
“Oh, what do we have here?” he said, dragging his gaze from my face down to my legs.
He took the end of the chain and pressed it against my stomach. Slowly, he slid it upward, winding it across my breasts, circling my nipples before pulling it back with a grin.
“Why?” I whimpered, my voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t answer.