☘︎ Jᴇɴɴɪғᴇʀ Rʏsᴏɴ ☘︎

Accompanying Viviane to the club was an impulsive decision.

Yet it had felt like the best thing to do when I'd returned home after my father's confession and found Viviane all dressed up at the doorstep of the guest house, ready to go partying.

As if carrying the guilt of having my mother's blood on my hand wasn't enough, now every day that passes, the grief over the time I'd wasted because of a misunderstanding instead of spending time with my Dad would stick too. Then there was the fact that I thought I saw the clown again at the hospital.

It was getting too much. I needed a breather from everything that had been happening. It's a weekend, so I couldn't even work till I forgot everything. I just didn't want to break down in a pathetic flow of emotions.

But as Lykas raises my chin up, making me meet his gentle gaze, "What happened?" Speaking in a tone so soft as though I'm a delicate thing he needs to handle with care.

Something in me cracks. Threatening to crumble at his feet.

I get off his lap like he's scalded me. Lykas grabs my hand, careful fingers wrapping around my wrist, "Don't shut me out."

"Let go." The hurt in his eyes at my obvious disregard to his plead makes me feel worse. I know he wants to ask further what's bothering me, but he respects my answer and albeit hesitantly, lets go.

I walk away from him as fast as I can, especially when my chest constricts from too many conflicting emotions. I absolutely loathe the prickling sensation in my eyes, the running thoughts in my head. . .

I killed my mom.

My dad has cancer.

I never got enough time to spend with either of them.

The clown keeps following me everywhere, even when I know none of it is real.

I'm going insane.

Nausea churns in my gut when the entire lighting in the club goes off, so sudden and out of nowhere it renders me frozen in my spot. Silence stretches and stretches. Until a low melody resonates from the speakers.

A sick feeling envelops my body at the beginnings of the haunting lullaby.

🎼🎼🎼

Ding dong
Here I come to find you
Hurry up and run
Let's play a little game and have fun
Ding dong
Where is it you've gone to?
Do you think you've won?
Our game of hide and seek has just begun

🎼🎼🎼

The utter darkness around the club worsens the horror of the song tenfold. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, my eyelids blinking rapidly to clear through the blackness and see some tiny flicker of light.

I think there are people yelling, but all I can hear is the music echoing around me and my breaths coming out in short puffs. My delusions amplified by the constant hauntings of the last two weeks results in me hearing the sound of footsteps approaching me. Heavy, thumping footsteps. The footsteps of the clown. . .

🎼🎼🎼

I hear your footsteps
Thumping loudly through the hallways
I can hear your sharp breaths
You're not very good at hiding

🎼🎼🎼

Suddenly I feel like laughing. Every detail I hear, the song mentions it. The irony isn't lost on me.

Am I imagining the song? The darkness? The footsteps? Is any of this even real?

No, it must not be. I'm crazy.

That has to be the only reason why I think someone grabs my shoulders from back. It might be Lykas. Or maybe there's no one and I'm the insane person concocting it.

I feel the imaginary person step closer behind me. Hands grip my shoulders so tightly, the sharp pain shooting down my arms has me wondering how far gone I am that I've started making up physical pain too.

"Just wait, you can't hide from me." Cold breath fans the side of my face, singing the continuation of the lullaby ringing through the speakers.

For a moment, I don't know I don't know I don't know whether any of this is happening but the grip on my shoulders shifts to encircle my neck. A large, strong hand tightens their hold on my throat so harshly that everything suddenly snaps.

Realization hits me hard and fast. No no no this is actually happening. He's trying to choke me, applying pressure on my windpipe until I suffocate and die. . .

"My dear Dolly Polly shut your eyes. Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries." Still singing right next to my ear, the clown switches to another one of his eerie lullabies.

I try to get myself free out of his grasp. All those martial arts training I took. . . only for my mind to play tricks to fool me and the tight hold on my throat to make my lungs collapse. If it wasn't dark already, I'd have started experiencing darkness clouding the edges of my vision by now.

White hot panic seizes my soul. I trash against my captor, a frustrated scream leaving my mouth. He's a large man and really really strong. None of my attempts to get free is working. Whenever I make a move, he seems to see it coming and dodges it.

He starts dragging me backwards, one hand trying to crush my neck while the other wounds around my torso. Out of sheer focus and terror both, I bend my knee at the front and kick back with such a well-practiced blow, hitting him in the shins so hard that the captor releases me with an angered groan.

I bolt away. Blindly. Trying to reach something. Anything. Other than the clown.

A few steps farther when I'm sure I'm leaving the clown behind, an arm shoots out to grab my hand.

The lights come back on. But I'm still in that state of feeling the clown's arms around me, dragging me away. Like twelve years ago, back when I shot in the dark and. . . killed my mom.

When the arm holding my hand wraps around my body pulling me to their hard chest, every paranoid thought running in my head starts ringing in my ears like a bullet train, loud and buzzing fast.

I'm going to kill someone again.

It's going to happen.

I'll have to change my identity again.

The clown will still follow me.

He wants to kill me.

"NO!" I scream, trying to get away from the person holding me. My nails claw at the skin of their arm, forcing them to leave me before I end up killing someone.

Blood. There was so much blood at my feet when I shot my mom in the dark.

I think the someone holding me, is talking to me, shaking me and I think there are many people flashing lights at me. There's noise, so much noise. There was so much noise when the lights came on and mom was on the floor too.

What did you do, Violet?

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" I yell, there's something wet trickling down my eyes. I don't know what it is. Nothing makes sense.

What did you do, Violet?

The liquid sliding down my cheek is unstoppable now, "I DIDN'T WANT TO SHOOT-"

"SNAP OUT OF IT, JENNA!" The loud chastisement and someone nudging me by my shoulders, shuts all of my buzzing thoughts down instantly. Like a switch turning off, the noises in my head stop with a whim. The darkness I'd been partially in shifts, making me actually notice the blaring brightness surrounding me. Lights. Disco lights.

Club. Right. I'm at a club.

I watch through blurry vision, finding Lykas face coming into view. His brows are furrowed, his palms cupping my face so so tenderly. He slides a thumb along my cheek, something like pain shifting through his eyes, "You're okay, baby."

His hands drop from my face to go around my waist, as if he wants to pull me into his arms, as if he wants to hold me and never let go. But I step back before he can do so.

I barely pay attention to the people holding up their phones, recording us, recording me. My throat tightens. God what did I do?

"Jenna-" Lykas starts, his arms reaching out for me again.

"I just want to go home, Lykas." My mind is still in shock, my voice a soft whisper, "I think I imagined the clown again." It feels like I keep repeating that sentence over and over.

Lykas shakes his head, "You didn't imagine anyth-" He tries to assure like he usually does whenever I'm mentioning to him that I've noticed the clown. He just doesn't believe I'm losing it. But I'm sure everyone recording me right now, they believe it. I can't even assert myself to be worried about another possible scandal. I'm just tired. So so tired.

"Just. . .let's go." I cut him off, proceeding to walk past him.

Lykas stays still for a moment, then his head whisks towards the people recording everything. His eyes narrow dangerously, a dark expression I haven't ever seen before reflecting on his face.

"Stop fucking recording!" He growls, storming towards one of the girls who'd been hovering closer and closer with each minute, trying to capture my face from every angle.

Lykas yanks the phone from the girl's hand. She shrieks, trying to take it back from him, "Give me my phone! She just said she wasn't going to shoot someone! Which means, she did! She's a murderer! The news article before wasn't fake! Your girlfriend is a psycho, people need to know!"

"Oh yeah?" Lykas eyes turn to slits. Then in a moment of recklessness, he drops the phone on the floor and stomps his feet over it, breaking the screen, "Sorry to tatter your dreams, darling." A mocking, threatening smile pulls on Lykas lips.

For the first time, I see the flicker of his father's genes in him. But unlike his father, Lykas's isn't the kind of fury that hurts his loved ones, it's the kind that protects. The girl watches with absolute shock, the others recording quickly put down their phones, religiously deleting the footage they took.

"If I find any single video leaked out, I'll make sure each of you rot in jail for the rest of your life for invasion of privacy." The threat out in the open and his smile turning sinister, Lykas turns to the girl whose phone he shattered, "And she's my fiancé, not girlfriend. Get your facts right."

Then breathing fire, he strides my way in three long steps. Catching upto me, Lykas takes hold of my hand, linking our fingers, "Let's go, Jenna."

I could fight my battles on my own just about fiercely. But even woman who could stand up for themselves need someone to fight for them sometimes. If I wasn't so stumped by everything that happened in the past few minutes, I'd have actually kissed him.

***

The drive home is a painful stretch of uncomfortable silence. Lykas tries his best to initiate conversation with me time and time again. But each time I ignore him and keep blankly staring out the window, his expression falls little by little until his shoulders slump in defeat and he goes utterly quiet.

The instant the Porsche halts in my driveway, I get out of the car before Lykas can open the door for me. My steps hurry into the confines of the sleek, black tinted-glass mansion, not skidding to a stop even when I hear Lykas call out for me.

I don't like avoiding him, it's just that his presence often makes me want to let my emotions flow freely and I can't afford to break down, can't afford to show vulnerability.

As I ascend the stairs in rushed urgency, I sense Lykas standing at the bottom of the stairs. He's staring up at me, hurt shining in his eyes at the way I'm running from him, like he thinks he's the reason for my cold actions. I want to tell him he didn't do anything wrong. That he isn't the problem. I am.

But the walls around feel like they're closing in on me. My dress suddenly feels so suffocating, I can't breathe. There are tremors wrecking my body and I hate my pathetic reaction to the situation more than anything. I'm not weak. I just need to get out of these clothes and clear my mind.

Making a split decision, I venture towards the terrace's jacuzzi area instead of closing myself in my room. Winter air caresses my cheeks like a lover's embrace, the touch of wind meant to be a comforting cadence.

All I experience is suffocation, my skull feeling like it's constantly being pricked by a thousand needles. Pressing the button on the wall, has a roof shutter tower over the terrace like a shed, creating a perfect room for privacy.

I get out of my clothes, dropping my garments in a neat pile at the foot of the jacuzzi before diving right into the tub, naked. Adjusting the dial on the side to maximum heat, I let the back of my head rest against the edge of the tub and shut my eyes.

Seconds pass into minutes and minutes into nearly an hour, but I remain in the tub. I can feel the droughts spreading on my skin, the pressure of the heat reducing due to the icy weather outside. When I increase the heat even higher, the temperature is scalding. The warmth of the water slightly burn my skin. I don't do anything to lessen the heat.

The sensation in my body is welcome, however unpleasant. The last few minutes, all I'd felt is numb, trying to shove away every thought itching to slither it's way into my mind. I like this physical pain.

To evade watching my skin turn an angry shade of red at being assaulted with the scalding water, I close my eyelids, slinking deeper into the water until its to the level of my chin. I hate this.

My throat hurts from the pressure. I feel myself drown lower and lower into the tub, my conscience warring against me. I'm crazy.

I finally allow myself to face the harsh truth, right in the eye.

I'm crazy I'm crazy I'm crazy.

A stupid whimper forced to stay locked in, escapes against my will. I don't want to be crazy.

The force of everything that had been happening since I came back to New York all hits me together like a truck colliding with a human, destructive and fatal in its wake.

Water enters my mouth, making me realize I've sunk too deep. For a fleeting moment, I just don't care. But then, I snap myself out of the stupidity and try to get back into a sitting position.

Only I'm not able to. Because a large, manly hand rests atop my head, stopping me from rising out of the water's surface.

The last thing I remember is my eyes widening in horror and water enveloping me completely as the man pushes my head under the water.

--------᪥♔︎᪥--------

OH SHEEEEET! IS SHE GONNA DIE???

Looks like the clown is done playing his trailing ghost chase and is now all in for the endgame. Which is KILL Jenna *insert ominous music*💃
Also Lykas is overcome by endearments fever👀

Lemme know your thoughts on the chapter! Why do you think the clown is trying to kill Jennifer all of a sudden? Any theories?

We're 75%-80% into the story btw!