Two-Faced Poker Face

♢ Laughter

"This is your gown?"

He nodded his head, not daring to look at their face... or mask. Whatever. You get the deal.

She continued to inspect it. She was looking for something specific.

The man would open his mouth to say something but quickly kept it shut. Right. No questions.

Her tone then became a bit deeper and sterner.

"Did you take out the tag?"

He'd raise his hands up defensively, shaking his head.

"I... I didn't! Trust me, I would've wanted to have a lead to where I came from."

She stood up not even a second after he finished his sentence. Only now did the young man realize how intimidating clowns were.

"You ended up in my fun house, uninvited, with no memory of your past or your identity? Do you expect me to be that gullible?"

Before he could answer, he felt a spark inside of him. Not the good kind. It was like a surge of energy running through his veins. He glared at the clown before taking off his hoodie, showing his ribs almost see-through from his skin, his arms that hugged his thin bones, and his visibly empty stomach. He hissed,

"Listen here, miss. I don't know who you are but I don't know any reason why someone like me, starving and lost, would be lying to you about it. I fucking need help. I want to know everything."

She didn't move a muscle for a while. This caused him to panic internally. She's just going to hurt him again, isn't she? He didn't close his eyes this time, however. He kept a straight face as he prepared for the absolute worst.

She placed her hands inside the pockets of her coat, looking across the hall.

"If that is true, looks like the rules of the game are gonna have to be bent."

She let out a small chortle.

"Follow me." She gave out a little gesture for him to keep close to her as she began to walk off.

He was in awe. He didn't think that would work. He rubbed his hands together, heaving a heavy exhale before putting on his hoodie again. He began to follow the woman, thinking about what sort of rules she was talking about.

As the two of them walked along the hall, it was silent all the way. The young man's eyes simply explored each store and attraction they'd pass by. This wasn't just a fun house, it was almost like a megamall but if every product was catered towards children. He found the idea interesting since there is a lot of capitalism and business potential when it comes to a younger demographic. He then turned his head back to the clown in front of him. He couldn't help but think about the possibilities of what could be going on inside her head. 

His hand would reach to his pocket, unwrapping the tissue before equipping the shard, and swiftly dashed his weaponed hand into the lady's side stomach, feeling the drench of her blood on his hand.

But he couldn't bring himself to do that. He kept his hand away from his pocket and just rested them on his sides. Even if she was clinically insane, there was no point in killing her. There could be other people here worse than she is and she could be his only hope. He felt goosebumps at the thought of stabbing her with the mirror fragment. It just didn't sit right. Besides, she's strong. It could backfire.

"I never got your name." She'd ask, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stared at her for a moment before looking away to the side, not knowing how to answer. She'd stop in her tracks.