"only the satisfaction of slaughter will cause it to return to the darkness from which it came"
a sinister clown terrorizes the small town of miles county, murdering anyone that gets in his path. one young woman becomes his favorite and he's willin...
this chapter delves deeper into reader's beginnings of corruption. if you haven't already put things together, being around art has made her soul start to blacken and now she's feeling the effects of that. if you want her to go fully insane, there might be hope yet for you ;)
what are the chances of you guys kicking my ass if i end this book with "guess everyone's gotta get down with the clown at some point" ? 😎 like 0-100%.
WARNINGS: demonic corruption, entertaining thoughts of murder, vicky as a whole, angel and demon stuff, religious themes, murder, gore, blood, cannibalism, self harm (only to do with vicky's canonical inflictions to herself) but i don't describe it too much <3 oh and art shenanigans too on the side. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Her feet seemed to be moving by their own accord without her even realizing that they were as she made her way up the dusty old steps of the clown's little hideout. He wasn't with her this time because he immediately went back out on another killing spree, this time flying solo as she kept complaining that she was exhausted and that seemed to aggravate him enough to drop her off here. The heaviness in her body felt as if she had a thousand pound stone slabs tied to her ankles, moving sluggishly and uncoordinated. The only thing grounding her to reality seemed to strangely be Jonah's severed finger that for some reason had made a home in her shorts pocket. She hadn't felt like her body was her own anymore, simply like she was watching somebody control her, powerless to take the reins back.
It was almost like she knew exactly where to go, throwing open the door upstairs carelessly as she entered the dusty area. The shrill squeaking of probably the most gigantic rats she'd ever seen had caused her to nearly burst into tears as one almost slid across her foot. All the blood and organs she'd seen tonight and this was what seemed to startle her to the most, how ironic.
She tried to ignore the rapidly rising acidic sensation building up once more in the already singed skin of her throat, threatening to pour out of her lips in waves. Her head was pounding with the beginnings of a migraine as she struggled to decide on which part of herself she wanted to be. She knew that her old self, the one who'd cry skittishly at the thought of somebody's finger just casually chilling out in her pocket, was long gone. Somewhere in her heart, she knew she was never getting her back. There was a darkness lingering now, like something had just decided to wear her skin like a disguise.
The room smelt absolutely awful, a combination of dust and mold along with the lingering aroma of metallic blood. It was strongest in the opened doorway of some sort of bathroom, a light still somehow visible as it blinked daintily. Her body stood there frigidly as the only traces of the clown seemed to be his large workshop desk full of weapons he left behind as well as a dirty old rocking chair near the small window. She knew something was wrong because she actually missed him. Yeah, that's definitely not right. How horrible it was for her to feel such contentment in the company of the man who stole the lives of everyone close to her.
