Constantine

“Get up! Get up!”

The familiar voice ran through the plastic tarp, its gravely tone laced with the smell of alcohol. The scent was so familiar, he no longer crinkled it away in disgust. Instead, it was welcomed. Its voice as well as its smell meant he was alive for another day. Before he was even able to salvage the thought, the cot he slept in was given a heavy kick. His body jolted to the side, falling to the ground with a sickening smack. The treatment was the norm and the boy simply picked himself up off the ground, nothing else he could possibly do.

“I’m awake!” His childish voice finally bubbled up from his through, coming out of his mouth cracked and worn.

“Don’t sass me Constantine! You know the consequences!” The man’s voice spat out, gruff and unforgiving. The steely dark eyes glared down at the child before kicking at the other cots scattered in the cheap tent. Tired and painful groans soon fulled the air. From the boy’s point of view, this was life. Doing as you were told and hoping that by doing so, you would live another day.

Short for his age, Constantine stared at the others. Messy auburn hair rested around his head, his bangs resting on either side of his face. His face was soft, childish features still showing through his face. Sewn over his right eye was a spare cloth, covering over a dark past. His arms were replaced with limbs much too long for his body and ended with large bear-like paws. His steely gray eye floated to the cot opposite of him, another freak whose body was mutated for others amusement.

“What are you looking at?” One voice spoke as the figure noticed his stare.

“Stop being so rude!” The other voice spoke.

Constantine stared at the two-headed figure, their deformity was much worse than his own. Or that was so he thought. It was two heads sewn onto one body. Fighting was inevitable and constant between them. Their arrival at the circus was as long as his own. Farther down the tent, a figure laid still on his bed. What kept him in place was a straight jacket, never taken off unless the leader was feeling considerate that day. He was taken care of by another woman in the cirque. The deformity she held was merely a scar running down the side of her face from punishment.

“Well then. Come on, come on! Lets not keep him waiting!” Her voice was eager, masking the true feelings held deep within her as well as everyone else in the circus. ‘Him’ referring to the master of them all. No one wanted to upset him, for fear of the punishments they would receive. “Let us get dressed and ready! We’ll be opening to the public soon!” She seemed to have taken it on herself to keep everyone in place. Her role of leadership unneeded, but welcomed all the same. In her hand was a large whip, apart of her act, but used other times as well. It cracked against the air, echoing in their ears as they prepared for the day. The woman moved to take care of her pet, the one still asleep, straight jacket strapped tight.

Constantine turned before he could see anymore. Their treatment was not the best and something they chose not to watch when possible. The childish clown costume he wore was his uniform. The puffy pants stopped just above his knees, striped a dark red and yellow to match the circus tent. His top consisted of a top, the same color as the pants. Around his neck, a ruffled collar, resembling one Queen Elizabeth might have worn. The child’s face was painted and a few bells sewn to his outfit. Despite its foolish look, Constantine was happy to be wearing it and be out of the performers private tent.

The air was stale and heavy, but preferred over the air in the tent. It was difficult to breathe, his own breath coming in straggled and forced. The atmosphere of the Cirque was thick with anxiety as the young clown traveled to the big tent. The one where the large show was to take place and the reason for the anxiousness to the performers. There at the large tent, he would spend another eventing entertaining those who paid to see the miserable lives of others.

“What are you doing simply standing around?!” The voice was angry and all too familiar. Constantine turned, ducking instantly from the blow that was thrown at his head. Tall, pure while hair, and horns protruding from either side of his head, The man was deformed, just like the rest of them, but he lived a much different life. Seeing as he was close to the Ring Leader, his life was much easier.

“I was getting ready!” the boy cried out, the clown cowering under his hand. “I wasn’t standing around. I swear!” His pleading was weak and desperate, bringing sadistic pleasure to the man.

“Of course you were!” he sneered mockingly. He watched Constantine, waiting for the child to move, when he didn’t he decided to speak again. “Then get to work!” he screamed in the boy’s ears. His breath was hot against Constantine’s skin, yet it sent shivers down his spine.

“Yes Demarion, sir,” the young clown bowed his head respectfully before hurrying off. It was best not to upset the man, seeing as he was close to the leader. Upsetting him was as worse of a punishment as upsetting the ring master himself.

The child’s footsteps quickly filled the air as he ran across the beaten ground. Other than than, there was no sound. He did not go long before crossing paths with another freak. The woman’s arms were covered with long brown feathers. Her feet were merely claws, matching those of a large bird. Her hair was a light blonde, cascading down her back delicately. Feathers had begun to grow off the side of her face and her eyes were large like an owls.

“Hello Constantine dear,” she called to the little clown, stopping him in his tracks with her gentle smile. She sat in a cage, iron bars holding her back from the true and real world. Her feet never never having touched the barren ground in years. Did she remember what it felt like? How it was soft to the touch and filled a person with a sense of freedom? Of course none of them remembered that feeling. Freedom was long forgotten and something that would never be in their grasp.

“Hello Lynne,” he responded, walking up to the old iron cage. He stood on the tips of his toes, only then was he able to peer inside.

“How are you doing my darling? A few more bruises I see,” she observed, noticing the scattered marks on the the of his face and arms.

The two were close, Lynne replacing the motherly figure missing in Constantine’s life. The boy took comfort in her presence and found it assuring as he had another soul that cared for him, simply because he was him and not an item in a performance.

“Better. I’m alive,” he replied in an honest tone. Soon, soon, he would need to keep moving, otherwise he would be found slacking off. That was one thing he did not to be seen doing.

“Isn’t that what we should all think?” she responded with a smile, even if there was nothing to smile about. “You should be running along now, before you get into trouble.” Lynne seemed to have taken the thought right from his mind the child’s own mind. He was eager to agree, even if it meant the pain was coming. His pawed hands removed themselves from the iron bars and his feet touched the ground.

“Goodbye Lynne. I’ll visit you later,” he promised her. Constantine never broke a promise to her. He always found a way to visit her once more. The boy continued on his way, the bells sewn to his outfit ringing faintly in the air. It seemed that the ring leader was already there, his tall frame towered over the rows of seat being set up for the evening. Even with his back to the child, he could clearly visualize the sinister smirk on his lips. The boy wasn’t able to leave quickly enough before he was noticed.

“Constantine, is that you?” he laughed. The man knew who it was, he simply enjoyed mocking his performers with every chance he received. “Come here my boy, come here,” he purred with an ominous tone. Unfortunately the child needed to listen and quickly shuffled forward, his movements unsure and nervous.

Constantine took too long to be by the ring leader’s side and the man instantly reached forward, forcefully grabbing the child’s chin. The boy only whimpered in pain as his face was brought in close. He stared at the older man’s face, his good eye floating around desperately. He looked young, his blonde hair pulled back with a black ribbon. His eyes were a golden color and seemed able to read your thoughts and know your secrets. The stare was calm, but calm was worse than anger. The soft eyes toyed with the younger one’s mind as Constantine tried to think of what he had done wrong. Without worrying about the fingers digging furiously into his skin.

“S-Sebastian,” he tried to mumble out, but was stopped as the hand tightened around his jaw, twisting his head uncomfortably to one side as he tried to focus his attention on the ring leader.

“Excuse me?” Sebastian sounded offended, his fingers digging further into the boy’s skin, waiting impatiently for the correction.

“Sebby.. That hurts,” he choked out, the fear of the ring leader showing through his voice. Quickly he tried to compose himself, clawed paws gripping at Sebastian’s hands, but never enough to hurt the man. No, that was never an option. It seemed the change in name was good enough for Sebastian to let go. He stumbled back, attempting to catch his footing.

“Good boy.” The way Sebastian spoke was as if he were talking to a dog, his voice pitched slightly higher and pleased. Despite himself, Constantine smiled. The tone was a relief and it meant he would be safe for a bit longer. His safety and his his life revolved around Sebastian. Whatever that man was feeling affected his life directly. “Now you know you’ll have to prepare for your act, but for now, entertain the guests.” Sebastian leaned over, his lips hovering near the boy’s ear, and his fingers curled around the child’s arms. His breath was hot against his skin and the purr to his voice sent fear down Constantine’s spine. In response, the clown turned his body slowly to the side, inching his way to the freedom of the tent.

“Yes Sebby,” he whispered fearfully, his body cringing away from the man. With his arm released from the hold, the boy was quick to shift away. With his arm released from the hold, the child was unsure if he could leave or not. Unable to keep himself still any longer, Constantine found his legs moving on their own accord. The stuffy air in the big top was replaced with heavy, but cleaner and fresher air. Constantine continued to run, heading towards the front gates.

Slam. His body hit against another, but he was unable to see who it was. He threw his hands out, catching his fall as he tumbled to the ground.

“Oh looky here, looky here,” a voice chuckled out giddily. “Didn’t expect runnin’ into you. No I did not.” There was only one man in the circus who spoke like that. Constantine quickly scrambled to his feet, string at the lanky figure. The man’s body curved to one side, his head tilted the opposite way, giving him an odd look.

“Vance,” he quickly responded, moving around the man caught in his straight jacket. The male was quicker than he was though and simply shifted his feet, standing in the child’s path once more.

“OH come now, come now. Why’re you tryin’ to get away? I just want to talk, can’t you talk?” It was impossible now. Once Vance held a target he intended to keep it unless someone changed his mind. “Hey, I got an idea,” he called, suddenly breaking the child’s own thoughts. He seemed to wait until he had Constantine’s full attention before speaking up again. “Why don’t you play a part in my show? A little bite won’t hurt you,” he cackled insanely. It was all a game, having fun within this circus was all that kept him alive. Slowly, Constantine took a step back, lengthening the distance between them.

“Vance!” A woman’s voice spoke up this time, high pitched and frustrated. An older woman stormed up, wearing a sparkling circus outfit, heels and all, as well as a whip in hand. Her scarred skin only made her appearance all the more frightening as she haughtily placed her hands on her hips. The woman was enough to stop Vance in his tacks and bow his head submissively.

“I was only playing you see,” he started to explain, but was quickly cut off by the crack of a whip. It his no one in particular and simply cracking against the air. It was loud enough for Constantine to cover his ears at the sound.

“There is no playing right now! Only working!” Such an odd thing to say for someone who worked in the circus., She had a stern voice, sharp and precise, and able to knock Vance back into shape. She had waited until Vance kept his eyes off Constantine and onto hers. When it had happened, she grabbed him by his shoulder, shoving him forward in a struggled attempt to keep him moving.

“Thank you,” Constantine spoke up, waiting quietly.

“Don’t thank me.” It was all she said to him before leaving him alone once more. The silence did not last lon as the faint murmur of voices filled the air. The circus was now open to the public and he would need to attend to its new guests.