by Ally Vance
“Maia,” he whispers, his voice weak as the life rapidly drains from his body.
The tears start to fall anew, and I can’t seem to stop them. I crumple to the floor in front of the man who raised me, and my heart weeps for him, even though it shouldn’t. I love this man as much as I hate and curse him for what he’s done to me and to Darryn.
Dr. Waugh was once everything to me and now he’s gone.
I stare blankly down at his lifeless form, the blood still dripping slowly from the wound in his neck. He’s dead. My demon is vanquished, and I’m the one who sent him to hell for his crimes. I glance down at my hands, pale and grimy from the dirty basement floor, and I register the stark red handprint wrapped around one wrist while my other hand is still clutching the scalpel. I look from Dr. Waugh over to Darryn who is lying as still as a corpse on the basement floor.
My soul feels numb as I force myself to my feet and go to check on Darryn. Kneeling down beside him, I can see the shallow rise and fall of his chest and the awful swelling and discoloration of the limp flesh that was once his hand. There’s no way I’ll be able to move him, but if I can reach Ezra, maybe I can get some of the others to come.
I gently stroke his bruised face with a shaking hand before rising from my position on the floor. My legs are as heavy as my heart, and it seems to take an age to climb the stairs into the main house. On autopilot, I trace my way back to Dr. Waugh’s office, and picking up the phone, I dial in Ezra’s number from memory.
He answers on the second ring, and his deep baritone fills my ear. “Who’s calling?”
“It’s Maia. Ezra, we need your help. Darryn is in bad shape, and he needs a doctor. Please send one,” I beg, and it takes everything in me not to laugh bitterly at the cruel irony of my words, as I wait for Ezra’s response.
“Where are you? Why did you leave here?” he questions, and I close my eyes, not wanting to talk about it but knowing I must.
“The man who created my wings decided he wanted to take me back, and Darryn was collateral damage. He was just a form of leverage as far as my creator was concerned,” I grudgingly admit, hating the words I’m saying.
A long silence follows before Ezra responds, saying, “Someone will be there soon.”
The first thing I do after returning home to the Carnaval is to look for Yager. Walking through the camp seems so surreal. It almost feels like I’m a ghost wandering back to the place she once loved. I never thought I’d see this place again, yet the relief is tarnished by the weight of guilt on my shoulders over what happened to Darryn. This all feels like it’s my fault, and right now, I need my best friend to tell me it’s not and to believe that I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. When I don’t find Yager in his trailer, I decide to look for Needles. If anyone is going to know where I can find him, it’ll be her. It’s possible he’ll be in her trailer, getting fixed up again after hurting himself. He never knows his limits, and it scares me that one day he’ll go too far and never be able to come back from it.
Worry spikes in my chest when he’s not there, and after extracting myself from Needles gentle and relieved embrace, I ask her where he is. Her worried scowl makes my heart skitter, and she points toward Indigo’s trailer. I ball my fists at my sides, digging my nails into my palms. I’d forgotten about Indigo, and the game Yager had set up to challenge him. Before Darryn and I were abducted, I was next up to test Indigo, but I hadn’t gotten as far as planning my move. I’d no idea what I was going to do against the thin giant of a man, and I really hope Yager hasn’t done something foolish in my absence.
I knock on the door to the trailer, but get no response. As I turn away from it, I see a smaller show tent has been installed at the edge of our camp. I’ve never seen it before, and I’m surprised Ezra has allowed it to be erected. I make my way over to it, still looking for my friend.
Walking through the entrance of the mini Top, my blood runs cold when I see Yager strapped to a spinning wheel with knives surrounding him, embedded into the wooden structure. I feel faint. I’ve only just escaped one nightmare, and now it seems I’m in the middle of another. As I watch, Indigo hurls a knife at the board, this time hitting Yager. The wheel slows and stops, and I watch in horror as Indigo yanks the knife from Yager’s body. Blood immediately starts pouring from the wound. Indigo is speaking to Yager but too quietly for me to hear, and I watch as he lifts the bloody knife and presses the blade against Yager’s throat.
“Yager!” I shout, frantically, terrified to see him with Indigo of all people.
“Maia,” he replies, smiling at me in greeting.
Indigo turns to look at me, and the malicious smile that crosses his face when he sees me standing there fills me with dread. He raises the knife again, and as he turns back to Yager, I start running toward them.
“Yager!” I exclaim in panic, and when I see Indigo bury the blade into Yager’s body, I scream at the top of my lungs, “No!”
I’m too late to stop what’s happening as Indigo continues stabbing Yager, and I don’t understand why. I throw myself at Indigo’s arm to prevent him from bringing the knife down again, but I’m not big enough and not strong enough, and he swats me away easily, knocking me to the floor. I let out a cry of pain as it jars my body.
“Do you think he feels it?” Indigo asks, and his voice is full of cruelty.
Yager is gasping and coughing quietly, but I know it’s not from the pain. He’s still fixed to the wheel, and blood is pouring from his wounds, showing no sign of slowing.
“Can’t you see he’s dying? Let him down, you lanky bastard!” I sob, getting back to my feet.
“If he were dying, then surely he’d feel it.” Indigo’s eyes flash, and without warning he brings the knife down one final time into the center of Yager’s chest.
I’m fucking breaking all over again. First Darryn, and now Yager. When will this nightmare end? I thought Carnaval des Ténèbres was my home. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe in my entire life. After what Camden did to me, I thought I’d lost the chance at peace and happiness; here is where I rediscovered it all over again. But with one cruel act, Indigo has ripped that all away from me, stealing the life of my best friend right in front of my eyes.
What is left for me here now?
Sixteen
Darryn
I’ve decided I hate waking up in unfamiliar places, especially when I don’t know how I got there. Another strange room, surrounded by medical equipment. A faint light trickles through the thin blinds covering the window. I feel woozy like I’ve been asleep for a long time, and my mouth is drier than sawdust. My whole body feels weighed down, and I start to panic until I catch sight of the morphine drip standing next to my bed, feeding the powerful pain reliever directly into my body.
I’m in a hospital, and the hum of electronics is loud after so much silence. Maia must have got us out somehow because there’s no way crazy Dr. Waugh would have brought me to a hospital. It would have raised too many eyebrows and thrown unwanted light on his twisted malpractices.
I don’t know what she’ll have told them about my situation. I guess she’ll have had Ezra arrange for one of the other members of the Carnaval des Ténèbres to bring me in. After everything, I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her distance from hospitals and doctors.
My hand. I can’t bring myself to look, and the numbness fogging my senses right now means I can’t feel much of anything, let alone that mutilated part of me. Given what Dr. Waugh did to me, and how it looked when he was finished, I know what to expect. He reduced my hand to nothing more than a limp piece of flesh. There was nothing left of it worth trying to save, yet I can’t seem to face what I already know.
Without a doubt, I know there’ll be a clean bandage wrapped around the stump of my wrist and nothing more. I still can’t face that reality, because once I look I can never go back. I’ll be lucky if I can still practice medicine and help the performers and members of the Carnaval des Ténèbres. I’ll never aga
in be able to raise Maia off the stage, helping her to soar through the air to reach the heavens like the angel she is.
A young nurse with a smile on her face walks in holding a clipboard in one hand and carrying a white paper cup in her other.
“Hello, Darryn, how are you feeling today? I brought you some water to drink. It’s good to see that you’re awake.”
As I sit up my muscles protest against the movement, but I gratefully accept the cup of water she offers me. She encourages me to sip it, and I swallow down the cool liquid, relishing the soothing feel of it trickling down my throat. I keep drinking slowly until the cup is empty and lick the last icy droplets from my lips.
“Numb. I feel numb,” I reply truthfully, and her smile falters.
“That’s to be expected. You’ve had surgery, and your body has been through a lot. Now you’re awake, I’ll have Dr. Torres come and see you to go through the details with you,” she tells me.
I lie back on the bed and watch as she checks the levels of the drip attached to me before asking if I need anything else. I shake my head and resign myself to waiting for the doctor to come. I still haven’t looked at my arm, and I’m not sure I’m going to be ready to for a while. The harsh truth is there for me to see, but I refuse to look it in the eye and acknowledge its presence.
I don’t have to wait too long before the doctor enters my room. He’s an older man with a kind-looking, but serious face. I brace myself for what he’s about to tell me, even though I’d much rather press the button for the pain relief and slip back into a morphine-induced sleep.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Torres, I trust nurse Michelle told you I’d be in to see you?” I nod and the doctor continues, “Well, Darryn, from a clinical perspective you’re recovering well. You were brought in by your friends in pretty bad shape. They didn’t seem to know exactly what had happened to you, but it was a close call. You had some very serious injuries, and an infection in your hand and arm. We had to perform emergency surgery to save you, and as I’m sure you’ve seen, we had to amputate your right arm up to the elbow,” he informs me, and my mouth drops open in shock.
I look down at my arm, and sure enough, he’s telling the truth. I’ve not only lost my hand, but the lower portion of my arm is also gone. The bastard didn’t just steal my hand, he completely ruined my arm. There’s nothing left but my upper arm with a bandage wrapped tightly around the base of it, neatly taped down.
“Half my arm’s gone as well!” I exclaim in shock, staring at the empty space where the missing part of the limb used to be and willing myself to wake up from this never-ending nightmare Dr. Waugh has trapped me in.
I must be dreaming because I can still feel it there, at the end of the stump…even though I can’t see it.
“You didn’t know?” Dr. Torres questions, looking confused.
“I knew about my hand, but I couldn’t bear to look. I didn’t want to see it,” I reply weakly, slumping back on the bed and gazing blankly up at the ceiling.
“Ahh. Well the infection had spread and it was the only viable option, given the circumstances. Also, the condition of the bone at the base of your wrist had been severely damaged by whoever removed your hand. I’m so sorry, Darryn. We’ll be monitoring your care closely to make sure you remain clear of infection and to check on the healing, but you should be able to leave here in a few days,” Dr. Torres replies.
He checks a few notes before leaving me with the knowledge of just how much I’ve lost. I’m in a perpetual nightmare I’ll never wake up from.
After the devastating news about my arm, I spend the next few days drifting in and out of a daze. Waves of anger followed immediately by the crushing weight of loss leave me feeling unbalanced and suffering from mental whiplash. Some of my adoptive family have been in to visit me, but it’s the luck of the draw as to what mood they catch me in.
When the only person who really matters visited, she left in tears because of me, and I’ve no way of fixing it. The gutted expression on her face told me I’d really hurt her.
It’s been a bad day, one of the worst since Dr. Torres came in and told me I’d lost the entire lower portion of my arm. I’ve been informed that I’ll need to stay longer than initially anticipated because the wound is healing too slowly, and they need me to try another course of antibiotics to prevent further infection and to boost my immune system. I want to go home, but instead, I’m stuck here. I may be a doctor myself, but I’m swiftly losing patience with this whole charade.
I’m tired of the four walls boxing me in, keeping me prisoner. I want to get back to the freedom of the Carnaval des Ténèbres and return to my family and my life there. Dr. Torres just left and my temper is hanging by a thread. A knock at the door draws my attention, and even though I’m not in the mood for any more visitors today, I resign myself to seeing who’s there.
“What now?” I snap irritably, but the door doesn’t open, and no one answers,“Either come in or get the hell out, I’m not in the mood for games.”
It opens slowly, and Maia edges into my room. Her demeanor is shy, almost tentative; a far cry from the Maia I’m used to seeing. It makes my heart ache to see her looking so low, but at least she’ll be able to leave when she’s had enough of being here.
“Hey, Darryn,” she says, sounding meek and nervous.
I don’t want her to feel that way, but the bitterness is sitting at the surface, and I can’t seem to stifle it. I don’t answer, because I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later. I’m finding it hard to balance my emotions enough to stop my outbursts.
She takes a seat in the visitor's chair by my bedside, and the silence in the room increases the tension between us until she breaks it, her sweet voice slicing through it like a knife.
“How are you?” she asks, wringing her hands in her lap, and I have to wonder how I must look if I’m making her feel so uncomfortable.
I pin her with a scathing expression and lift my stump, in all its amputated glory, for her to see. I shouldn’t take enjoyment from it, but I’m satisfied seeing her blanche. I love Maia, my sweet girl, but how the fuck, does she think I feel right now?
She gulps, and her next words are broken as she stammers before finding her voice. “S-So, um…what did the doctor say? Did he say when you’ll be able to come home?”
I feel like an asshole for the way I’m behaving, but the hope in her voice makes me feel hollow.
"Not yet, it's not healing as well as they’d hoped, so I'm stuck here until they say otherwise," I tell her, unable to keep the hard edge from my tone.
Her eyebrows pinch together in a frown as she stares at me, sadness emanating from her. I'd help her feel better if I could, but I couldn't save her last time. Hell, I couldn't even save myself. I failed her, and the sight of her like this, so lost and helpless, breaks my heart.
"Sorry I couldn’t do anything to prevent this from happening," I mumble, looking away from her.
“Don't be. There was nothing you could have done,” she sighs, her voice thick with emotion.
Her eyes meet mine and I can see the unshed tears shimmering in those beautiful green depths. “It's all my fault, Darryn. I should’ve just gone with him when I had the chance and maybe you wouldn't be lying here right now with half your arm gone.”
I let out an empty laugh. “Yeah, sure. You’re right. He may have mutilated you, drugged and imprisoned us, and cut off my hand, but he’s not responsible for any of it. It’s all your fault. If I hadn’t been so stupid as to try and save you after you managed to get yourself abducted, then maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be missing half my arm, and with my future in fucking tatters. He’s definitely not the one to blame, you are,” I spew sarcastically at her.
She lets out a gasp, and her eyes widen in shock before she bursts into tears and runs from the room, behaving as though I actually meant those words. She’ll come back, I’m sure. She just needs to calm down.
I may be stuck here, feeling absolutely livi
d about my new situation and all of the challenges I’m going to have to face, but I’d never purposely hurt Maia. I’d never blame my sweet girl for what happened. Only one person is responsible, and that’s Dr. Waugh. She’ll come back to me, and we’ll carry on as we always did, even with the new hardships ahead. She’s strong, stronger than she believes, and I need her strength right now.
Seventeen
Maia
I haven’t visited Darryn since we argued in his hospital room. He blames me for everything he went through at the hands of my monster, and so he should. I didn’t tell him what happened to Yager. I couldn’t bring myself to break the news when it’s still so fresh, and I haven’t yet come to terms with the loss of my best friend. Darryn has his own recovery to deal with, and in truth, I was scared he’d also blame me for Yager’s death. I couldn’t save Darryn, and I couldn’t save Yager. Apart from being an act in the show, what good am I?
It’s been a little over a week since I returned to the Carnaval des Ténèbres, and nothing feels right anymore. I’m hollow and empty inside like the top half of an hourglass after the sand has all run through. Everyone seems glad I’m safely back, but I’m not quite the same person I was when I left. So much has changed in such a short amount of time, and it doesn’t feel like home here anymore.
Indigo’s also gone, but even without him around there are constant reminders of what he cruelly took from me. I almost wish he were still here, so I could beg him to use his brutal strength to rip me from this life. Needles has been trying to comfort me, but I can tell she feels the loss too, and although she hasn’t spoken a word, her tears have often joined mine.
