Unmasked | Art

~5~

I woke up tied to a chair. Again.

I looked down. The clown was kneeling next to me, wrapping my injured leg in a bandage. I was so confused. He was the one who stabbed it multiple times, and now he was bandaging it?

The clown sealed the bandage and stood up. He noticed that I'm awake and waved to me. I couldn't do anything else than just give him a confused look. He dropped his hand and made an annoyed expression as I didn't understand him.

He walked over to the door and showed me to wait. After a minute he came back holding a water bottle. He sat down in a chair in front of me and offered me some. Assuming it was water, I nodded. Then he put a finger against his lips, telling me to stay quiet, and removed the tape off my mouth.

I didn't yell for help. There was no point. Even if somebody heard me, the clown would kill them instantly.

He held the bottle against my lips as I drank the water. It tasted normal. I was so thirsty I almost drank all of it. The worst thing that could happen now is that it's poisoned and I will die.

When I was done the clown put the bottle away. He didn't tape my mouth right away but rested his chin in his palm and just looked at me.

This probably couldn't get any more awkward.

"So, uh...your- your name's Art?" I stuttered, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.

The clown smiled and nodded. Then he pointed at me.

"Me? Oh, I- I'm Y/n," my voice was shaking. "Uh, thanks for the bandage." I didn't know what else to say.

He seemed pleased and tipped his hat.

"I thought, maybe you could untie me? I mean I'm still not going to run anywhere," I asked.

The clown thought for a moment, but then nodded and untied my legs. Then, he kneeled in front of me and began untieing my hand. As he moved on to the other one our eyes met. His gaze wasn't so homicidal as before. It kind of even seemed...fond.

This made me feel some kind of way I've never felt before. The clown untied my other hand and sat back on the chair. Why the hell is he being so nice to me?

As I was about to ask the question we heard a loud thump upstairs. The clown turned his head, then stood up and left.

I just sat in my chair, not knowing what to do. I didn't want to run.

A few minutes passed by, and I heard a blood-curdling scream. It was a girl. After a moment she screamed again. Then I heard a shot, and everything went silent.

A thought crossed my mind. Could've it been Sandra looking for me?

The clown entered the room, covered in fresh blood stains. He walked over to his garbage bag and threw the shotgun down.

I couldn't stay calm, so I stood up and asked him. "Who was it?"

He slowly turned his head toward me but stayed silent.

"Was it Sandra?" I asked, losing my patience.

The clown slowly approached me with a blank expression.

"I'm asking you, was it Sandra?" my eyes started filling with tears. He didn't show or say anything. He just stood there, looking at me.

"YOU KILLED HER!" I cried out, not being able to hold in the tears and frustration anymore. "YOU BASTARD!" I yelled, punching and slapping his chest. "YOU HEARTLESS MORON!"

The clown just stood there, not resisting, not trying to defend himself.

"YOU KILLED HER!" I yelled again. Finally, the clown gently grabbed my hands, trying to calm me down, but I pushed him away. "LEAVE ME ALONE! GO AWAY!"

He backed off, as I slowly fell to the floor, crying. Then, he grabbed his garbage bag and left.