xI work at an amusement park where only half of the actors are actual actors. First off, I’d like to say that I’m sorry for not responding to any of the comments on my last post. I was feeling rather sad and decided it would be better not to spread my bad vibes. Then again, I cannot claim that I’m doing any better at the moment.
As of me writing this, I’m riding shotgun in my manager’s pick-up truck. Dale hasn’t said a word in two hours, he’s just staring at the road ahead of us clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles have turned white. He’s muttering incoherent stuff I can’t understand, but I keep hearing the words “Shit” and “Fuck” amidst his ramblings, so I assume the rest is PG-13 as well.
I don’t feel like cursing. I don’t feel like much of anything at all. I recognize this to be the same sense of emptyness and numbness that Nathan had described to me. Thankfully, I’ve stopped convulsing about an hour ago. It was really hard throwing up without leaving the truck and at the same time trying not to stain the seats. I ended up having to stick my head out the window because Dale couldn’t stop driving every time.
To be honest, I didn’t even know he owned a truck. I mean, what does a guy like Dale even need a colossus like this for? I guess it really isn’t that important though. I should probably explain how we got here… and why we’re on the lam.
When I woke up this morning, I really tried to hide the way I was feeling. Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I took care of the brown bird nest that was my hair after I had tossed and turned all night. My eyes were bloodshot and my cheeks swollen with tears. I had been crying myself to sleep.
I fixed myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast and sat down with it on the couch, still in nothing but a top and underwear. I watched TV for a little while. There was a rerun of one of the earlier seasons of Hell’s Kitchen on and I believe I’ve mentioned before that I like that show, but this morning, not even a bunch of chefs being yelled at could cheer me up. And here I was thinking it’d always do the trick. At around nine, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got dressed and set out for the park. This time, the only protective item I took with me was my locket.
The theme park is a beautiful sight when the sunlight hasn’t quite reached its every last corner yet. The ferris wheel stood unmoving above all else, towering over the other rides not unlike a cathedral of sorts. The glow of the morning sun reflected off its shiny surface, making it gleam and glisten like a diamond.
I walked through Hollywood’s sparkling streets and stood still for a while to listen to the Pianist’s quiet music coming from inside his restaurant. It truly is quite soothing. The horror-themed section was lying in utter silence. I found the Nurse standing in front of her funhouse again, staring off into the distance. I waved at her, though I knew she couldn’t see me.
Mr Scratch was sitting outside of his shelter. It was as if he had been expecting me, as if he knew something was wrong. I hugged him. I squeezed my fingers underneath his metal collar to scratch his neck. I patted him on the head between his two horns. I stroked his black fur. He seemed a bit put off by my bleak demeanor, and when the tears began rolling down my cheeks again, he pressed his head against my side as if to comfort me.
“Good boy,” I whispered, my voice shaken by sobs.
I fed him one last time. I had brought him a lamb shank I had bought on my way to the park. He tore it to shreds and gobbled it down, just like he had on our first day. I watched, barely able to comprehend that I would not be seeing him again. Maybe I would if I ever were to come to the park as a visitor, but it wouldn’t be the same. I knelt down beside him and leaned onto him.
“That next handler of yours is gonna be one lucky bastard,” I muttered into his fur. “I’ll totally beat them up if I’ll ever meet them.”
My heart was heavy in my chest when I left the horror-section for Twin Vale Point. How I was going to miss this beautiful, dry place. I found Nathan, the Stagecoach, the horses and the stork resting in the shade of the old wooden rollercoaster’s entrance. Nathan appeared to be happy to see me at first, but once he noticed that I had been crying, the smile quickly faded from his face.
If saying goodbye to Mr Scratch was hard already, saying it to Nathan was even worse. Like, so much worse.
“See? Now I really am going to die alone,” he sobbed, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll miss you… I’ll miss you so, so much…”
“I’ll tell the others to come by and check on you. Maybe you’ll get along with them too,” I offered in an attempt to comfort him. “They’d make good friends as well.”
“But I already have a good friend! I don’t want anyone else!” He sounded like a little kid. “You don’t deserve to be sent away. You worked so hard and now… it’s just not fair!”
I hugged him and told him it’d be alright. I could barely bring myself to leave, but there was still one person I had to say goodbye to.
On my walk through the western town, I took some time to take in everything I had grown so fond of over the years for one last time. My necklace was bouncing up and down on my chest as I began to jog a little, just for fun, and eventually its fastener got tangled up in my hair which I was not wearing in a ponytail for once. I had to stop and carefully remove it, but of course it put up a fight and ripped out some of my hair when I pulled it out. I cursed and decided to just keep it wrapped around my left wrist like a bracelet for the remainder of my walk.
I found the Laughing Cowboy relaxing in the large saloon my co-workers and I had used as a meeting room a little while ago. He was simply sitting on a bench in the back, his feet casually resting on top of the table in front of him. He immediately swung down his legs and sat up straight when I entered.
“Hi,” I greeted him. My voice was raspy and my throat sore from all that crying. “I just… I just wanted to say that I’m not gonna come back here. This is my last day at the park.” I swallowed hard. “So… thank you. For everything.”
The cowboy stood up. His eyes were wide and incredulous, he tilted his head as if to ask if I was serious.
I nodded, a bitter smile on my lips. Parting with him really hurt for some reason. I watched as he slowly approached me. He carefully reached out to touch my face, just like he had on that day when I had been drunk on Dale’s whiskey. He wiped off a small tear that had not yet dried on my cheek with his thumb. His fingers were as clammy as always, but somehow, it was comforting. His cold on my burning skin… it felt incredibly soothing. So I let him.
“Thank you,” I uttered.
We stood like this for what felt like an eternity, him not once breaking my gaze. I finally slowly reached up to remove his hand from my face as gently as possible. I hadn’t realized it was my left hand.
He glanced at the necklace tied around my wrist and before it could even make contact with his arm, he pulled back, an alarmed look in his eyes.
It took me exactly three seconds to comprehend what he had just done.
I was staring up at him in disbelief and he stared back, realization had not yet set in. I was stunned.
Then he shoved me, hard, and I stumbled backwards. I didn’t have enough time to brace myself for the impact. The back of my head collided painfully with the wall and I let out a cry of shock.
He lunged at me with an inhuman speed, one of his hands seized my lower left arm, the other one quickly grabbed my throat. His fingers cramped around my neck as he pressed me against the wall. I gasped for air. My mouth being wide open, he took his chance.
Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. My eyes widened in disgust and I let out a muffled shriek as he slid in his wet tongue. My vision blurred, but I could hear him retch. It was only when I felt his thick, black saliva trickling onto my tongue that I realized what he was doing.
I struggled, trying to break free, but his grip on my arm and throat only tightened. He was too strong, way stronger than I had expected. I tried to shove my free hand in between us to push him away, but the moment I did, his grasp onto my neck grew so firm that I couldn’t breathe again. He was choking me. He closed the distance between us, pressing his chest against mine, forcing me to stay still. I tried to kick him, ramming my knee into him again and again, right between his legs.
He ignored me, he just kept… spitting his disgusting, foul-tasting saliva into my mouth. Then, all of a sudden, the possibly grossest idea I’ve ever had came to my mind. I tensed up my jaw and bit down on his tongue with all my might.
He let out a muffled howl of agony and instantly stepped back, but before I could spit out the black liquid that had gathered in the back of my mouth, he had already placed his hand over it, his palm forbidding me from parting my lips. Despite the obvious pain he was in, the fingers of his other hand remained firmly locked around my lower left arm. Pressing my chin up and squeezing my lips closed, he let out a low hiss. His narrowed eyes stared at me scorningly.
Even though his voice did not form a single word, I knew what he wanted me to do. I shook my head against his fierce grip, whimpering quietly through forcibly clenched teeth. A smirk crept across the cowboy’s lips as he reached up and used two of his fingers to pinch my nose closed. Now I really couldn’t breathe anymore.
My mind was racing, but I could no longer refuse. I needed to breathe, I needed air. Despite my every need to retch, to get rid of this despicable flavor on my tongue, I pressed my eyes shut and swallowed.
As soon as I had done so, he let go of me and I sunk to the floor, gagging and gasping for air. I couldn’t see clearly, my head was spinning and my throat was burning. I tried to get up, but the moment I did, I felt his boot press down onto my shoulder, forcing me to stay in place.
He was smiling again now, a cold, cruel smile I had never seen on him before. He slowly increased the pressure of his foot on my shoulder, causing me to sink to the floor once again. I attempted to touch him with the locket, but when I tried to raise my arm, he stomped on it with unsettling precision. I let out a whimper of pain as he dug his heel into the soft inside of my elbow. I let my head drop to the floor in resignation.
“WARIN!”
The cowboy instantly stumbled back, the painful pressure of his boot lifting from my arm. I pushed myself up with effort only to see Dale standing in the doorway. He was holding his gun, aiming it at the pretender.
“Warin, get away from her, now,” he commanded very calmly.
The cowboy backed off. Dale nervously ran his hand through his sand-colored hair. “Leah, come here,” he ordered, not once breaking the cowboy’s gaze. I slowly rose to my feet. My knees felt like jello. I quickly stumbled over to my manager, grabbing onto his arm for support. The Laughing Cowboy stared at us with hateful eyes.
Mouth agape, I turned to face my manager. This couldn’t be happening, I remember thinking. Dale growled and shook his head. “Shit…” he muttered under his breath. Then, he pulled the trigger. He shot the cowboy four times, then spun around and shoved me outside.
“Run! RUN!” he bellowed, but upon realizing how wobbly I was on my feet, he grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me along. We ran, or rather stumbled, all the way over to the employee entrance.
“The revolver!” he gasped. “Leah, where’s the revolver I gave you?”
“At home,” I stammered.
“Fuck. We need to get it first. I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re away from here. Now come on, go!” With that, he ushered me over to a small car standing in the back of the employee parking lot. We got in and he drove me home, telling me to grab only my most important belongings, the revolver and a change of clothes. He waited outside while I got my stuff and then, we drove over to his place. There, we changed cars.
And here we are. On the road, in Dale’s black pick-up truck. A backpack holding my clothes, revolver and whip is resting between my feet. I’ve stopped asking my manager to explain what happened. Partly because he kept telling me we weren’t far away enough yet and partly because it’s all slowly falling into place on its own.
Dale just told me we would take a break at some rest stop soon. He’s been driving for hours now. He’s probably starting to get tired. I would offer to drive for him, but he won’t tell me where it is he’s taking me. I have some many questions.
The foul taste of Warin’s saliva hasn’t faded from my tongue yet. I wonder how Nathan could simply overlook it when he drank it with his coke all those years ago. I’m dazed and confused. I keep looking at myself in the rearview mirror to see if anything has changed about my face yet, but everything appears to be normal for now. I have no clue why. I hope Dale will clear this up too once he’ll finally talk to me again.
I wonder when it will start.