The Pretty Poison

.PART 2 - Chapter 1

.PART 2 - Chapter 1

I am in his arms again. The overheating covers are pulled up to my chin and the length of his arm lies uncomfortably under my side. Cool breath tickles the back of my neck with each sigh of his sleep. I could fight my way out of his grip but I’d rather not wake him. Little things like that don't matter to me much anyway. It’s ‘immature’ to wake him and I have to be his woman, even if I’m still just a teenager.

The bed made up in my little trailer has been there for days now, not slept in and hardly even sat on. I’m not sure if that bed can still be called mine. The smirk on my lips is pressed into the pillow with the bitter thought: I don’t even know if I belong to me. My body is his so I guess that means I am his as well. My cheek nestles into the pillow and releases a sigh as I fight the sleep trying to reclaim my consciousness. I love being called his.

Stirring behind me, my lover Westley tightens his grip on my waist. A quick gasp squeaks out as I’m pulled closer to his chest. His body heat makes me feel closer to sweating more than before, turning me rigid with anticipation. I wish he would stay asleep and let me think to myself for a while. It’s been some time since I’ve woken up before him.

A cough flutters my hair and his forehead presses onto my bare back. Westley keeps to his dreams, allowing me to wander around my fancies for a while longer. I smile with the tiniest bit of relief and return to my thoughts.

Drifting back into my hazy half sleep, I try to remember my nightmares from last night. The sickly air seems so real but the twisted laughter and cries ringing through the large hallways, the rooms of strange creatures and splintered spirits? Nothing I could possibly say could sway my mind into thinking it’s real. There are no such things as ghosts and demons. A wave of drowsiness washes over me, making it harder to replay the fake memories. The more I try to picture the dream, the more it slips into nothingness. And the longer I think on it, the more awake I become.

My eyes fight to keep open while darting back and forth in the trailer. They see the same things and knick-knacks as seen every day. Pictures on the dresser shine soft lights onto my face and the mirror just beside the door reflects my foot sticking out from beneath the blanket, hanging off the edge of the bed. It’s crowded but comfortable. Of course, what my eyes rest on is a large advertisement with a pretty face gleaming out.

The girl’s hazel eyes almost glitter with a life and an adventurous spirit. Her black and red outfit barely covers her skin but it fits the act. Fire trails the bottom of the poster, contrasting the black lettering, tying everything together. Fire it up with Pretty Poison, it reads. Join us at the Huntsdale Circus today!

I love that poster. The day I first saw it, I fell absolutely head over heels with it. That poster has to be the best picture of me ever taken and the way my Poi light up my face is so amazing. The photo shoot for it on one of my first days joining the circus so the happy-happy-joy-joy spirit was still in my system. That newbie high is gone now but I’ll never forget the feeling of becoming a part of a family. My muscles relax in happy reminiscing.

Fast-paced memories are pushed to the back of my thoughts as I sit up carefully to check Westley’s clock. The red letters greet me with quarter to eight. Silent swears race in my mind at our late morning. If Westley doesn’t wake soon, he will blame me and if I wake him, he will be angry. Facing the lose-lose situation, I gently shake his shoulder hoping he’s in one of his better moods.

“Hey babe, it’s 7:46.” I hear him grunt crossly into his pillow. He sounds so cute when he does that. “Come on, sleepy. Time to rise and greet the morning sun, eat a big bowl of Mimi’s sloppy oatmeal and… yeah.”