Page 17 of Carnival
I clench them together, my hand curling around the hem of my jacket. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I should’ve been stronger and resisted the urge to feel him. But why did it feel so good, so liberating?
It was like a switch was flipped inside me, and I had no control over my body or my actions. The chemistry was undeniable, the way my soul yearned to have him near. And that’s not good — because I’ve met the man twice, and both times I ended up having sex with him. A nagging feeling at the back of my head won’t go away, constantly telling me that at this rate, I’ll end up falling for him, and I’ll fall hard.
For a fucking murderer.
I know it’s wrong, twisted, and downright disgusting. So why does my heart skip a beat at the thought of belonging to him?
7
Rose
It’s chilly outside.
I’m thankful that I decided on the leather jacket; otherwise I would’ve frozen to death. And unlike what I remembered previously, this place is crowded. As in, Aria and I waited in line for over forty minutes to buy tickets and have our IDs inspected. I’m not sure if it’s because of the fucking murders that had taken place here every year, but their price skyrocketed.
We paid a hundred dollars to enter this, and every ride, every meal, or trinket that we buy will be paid for separately. My wallet’s already crying from the weight that will be lifted off it very soon.
The money I get from renting out apartments in the building Noah and Hudson bought for me is being stored aside. I don’t use it; it’s just compiling into my bank account. I’m beyond grateful for everything that they’ve been doing for me over the years, but I can’t take any more of their money. It makes me feel pathetic and like I’m a charity case.
So, unbeknownst to them and Aria, I’ve moved out of the apartment in that building. I rent out a cute, small place, and it’s just perfect. I pay for it with my own money that I get from my big girl job, and although it’s hard balancing university and work at times, it’s worth it.
Aria yanks me by the wrist, and the thoughts vanish from my mind. Instead, I focus on what’s in front of me, and I don’t know where to look first.
There are food stands and too many alcoholic drinks, and I think they’re serving food filled with alcohol. Everything’s decorated as you’d expect it to be for Halloween week — many carved-out pumpkins that have scary faces and employees walking around in costumes, scaring everyone they see. Some are ghosts; others are dressed up like characters from horror movies. Even the music around us is eerie, creepy, and enough to send a jolt of shivers down my spine.
“Where to first?” I ask, and Aria stops walking.
Her eyes skim all around us, trying her best not to get pushed by the incoming crowd. She pulls me aside and tries to figure out where to go next. The terror houses are located deeper into the carnival; the part near the entrance is mainly other entertainment. There are plenty of rollercoasters and scrambles. The sight of a massive one provokes a heart flip from me, but Aria shoots it down before I can even think of riding it.
“No,’’ she states, firmly. “We’re here on official business, Rose. No rides for you tonight.’’
“Oh, come on!” I whine. “Just one ride, please!”
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, you’ll ride the scrambler once we finish our business here, happy?”
I nod enthusiastically, and Aria snorts, rolling her eyes.
“Now,’’ she finally releases my wrists and looks behind me. “You go over there and buy us some drinks. I’ll go and ask that hot fella if he knows which terror house is the one with the most recent murder.’’
“Splitting up seems like the beginning of every horror movie, Aria,’’ I point out. “How about we both go?”
“No offense, but you’re the least manipulative person I know. You’re a little spitfire, sure, but manipulative? No. Just go and grab a bite; you’ll need it before you go on that ride.’’
She doesn’t give me the time to respond and stalks off in the direction of the ‘handsome fella’, who happens to be a man dressed up as Jason Voorhees. I wince as the movie’s premise flashes through my mind before deciding to grab a snack. Too many options, and as I take a step forward, my mouth waters and stomach grumbles. From candies and corn to more concrete food such as meat, sandwiches, and even pasta at some places. My eyes dart all around, contemplating what to eat and what to drink first. My appetite can be quite big, so I’m not scared about missing out — I’ll try a little bit of everything.
I’m about to approach a stand, but my feet freeze in place. A wave of deeply rooted chills roams all over my body, all the smallest hairs on my body standing up and my throat suddenly going dry. My hands tremble next to my body, and I try to move, yet my legs won’t listen. I stay glued to the spot, people freely walking around me, and screams of those being scared filling my ears.
I swallow a thick knot that forms in my throat and force my head to turn over my shoulder and take a peek. I thought I’d spotsomeone staring at me — James, in particular. But that’s not what I’m seeing.
Instead, it’s a small tent.
It’s in a deep shade of purple, small, barely able to fit two people, and with sparkly decorations all over. The opening is wide, but it’s dark, hidden with a curtain, and I can’t make out anything on the inside.
My eyes flicker to the small sign next to the tent.
Tarot reading.
A small frown is etched on my face, and with newly found force, I turn around and walk toward the tent. With a shaky hand, I pull the dark curtain to the side and step inside.
