Chapter Text
The rain had started before reaching the circus.
Not a heavy storm, just that gray drizzle that left the air humid and sticky, soaking the lights of the place with a blurry and sickly glow.
—Just for a little while —your friend insisted while gently tugging your arm—. I promise it’s not as terrible as people say.
You didn’t seem convinced.
The enormous sign of the freak circus creaked above your heads while the lights flickered in reddish and golden tones. There were too many people. Too much noise. Laughter far too loud. Off-key music.
Your fingers unconsciously tightened around the small cross hanging from your neck.
You didn’t belong in a place like this.
The long dark skirt, the high collar, the small veil pinned behind your head… you weren’t exactly a nun yet, but anyone could tell where you came from. And the curious glances some people gave you while passing by only made the discomfort beneath your skin grow stronger.
After all, it was far too strange for the people of the village to see one of the novices without her sisters around. They almost always remained inside the monastery.
Much less at the freak circus.
You mentally replayed how you had let yourself be convinced to come. Well… for starters, it wasn’t forbidden. You were still a novice, there were still a few weeks left before taking your vows.
You could still decide.
That was what they all repeated.
You tried to ignore the atmosphere. You walked between stands and performers. You tried to fake interest. You even smiled a little when your friend started joking with you.
Until you lost her in the crowd.
And that’s when the problem began. Because the circus at night was a labyrinth.
The lights grew dimmer farther from the main tent. The sounds more distant. Hollower. You ended up walking between damp red fabric hallways and old trailers without realizing how far you had wandered.
Then you saw the tent. Smaller than the others.
The cyan tent.
Without music, only a dim lamp lit beside the entrance and a hand-painted sign.
THE DOCTOR.
You should’ve left, you knew that.
But there was something different, something silent compared to the rest of the circus.
A pink jester emerged from the darkness of the entrance. You couldn’t even distinguish its face because of the mask all the assistants and circus members seemed to wear. It extended papers toward you with firm, robotic movements.
With some hesitation you took them to read. It looked like a contract.
It detailed that once signed and filled with your medical information, you would enter the tent and, inside it, obey and follow any order given by the doctor.
You barely raised an eyebrow. Your eyes lowered to the pen the jester offered you.
A cross.
Curious.
You wondered why that specifically seemed to be the symbol of the attraction. The jester didn’t speak, it only waited.
And you… ended up signing.
Maybe out of curiosity. Maybe because a part of you wanted to know what was inside. Without giving yourself much time to regret it, you pushed aside the entrance fabric.
The interior smelled of alcohol, medicinal herbs, and something metallic.
Blood.
Your body immediately tensed.
It was completely dark. You could only distinguish the faint illuminated path stretching through the tent. On the sides there were silhouettes of people… or dolls.
Except that as you walked forward, they seemed to follow you with their gaze.
Your breathing became slower, more careful. In the center of the place, a tall figure stood in front of a chair illuminated by dim light.
Back turned. Washing his hands. The red gloves reaching past his elbows were stained with a darker red all the way to the wrists.
Your breath caught.
The plague doctor mask completely covered his face, giving him an almost inhuman silhouette beneath the warm light. Tall. Large. Far too still.
Then he spoke.
—Don’t stand there, dear… come in… they won’t bite you… yet.
The voice was calm. A Russian accent dragged softly through every syllable of his honeyed voice.
You took a small step back.
—I’m sorry… I just…
—You’re lost.
It wasn’t a question. He took a clean cloth and slowly dried his hands before turning toward you.
And now he was looking at you. You couldn’t see his eyes behind the oddly fitting plague doctor mask.
You could feel his complete attention on you. Precise. Analytical. As if he were taking you apart piece by piece… His head tilted slightly.
Your fingers closed around the cross at your neck almost by reflex, and the movement immediately seemed to catch his attention.
Silence… Long… Uncomfortable.
Then he let out a soft exhale that sounded dangerously close to a laugh.
—Ah…
And somehow that simple sound made the atmosphere feel even smaller.
—A devotee.
Heat rose to your face.
—I’m not a nun.
—Not yet.
Damn it.
The way he said it wasn’t mocking. It was worse because it sounded observant, as if he had read something inside you.
You tried to compose yourself.
—I should leave.
—Probably.
But he didn’t move to let you pass, and you didn’t move either.
Because now you could notice other things.
Bandages on the table, enormous needles, black threads, medicinal bottles, traces of fresh blood.
His voice pulled you from your thoughts.
—Well then, my dear patient… sit down.
It sounded like an order. You quickly glanced toward the exit, it seemed far too distant within the darkness. You took a deep breath before finally sitting in the wooden chair.
You immediately noticed the ropes restraining your wrists the moment you sat down. Your body tensed.
—Curious…
The word came out in a murmur while he adjusted the ropes. They weren’t rough. That was the unsettling part, they seemed arranged exactly to immobilize you without truly hurting you.
—I don’t usually receive devotees in my tent.
His hands moved calmly around the chair while checking each knot. Then he took a small notebook.
—Tell me, dear patient… any medical history?
You blinked.
—What?
—Fainting. Fevers. Convulsions. Abnormal bleeding. Does your heart function properly?
—I… think so.
—“Think.” What a terribly unconvincing answer.
He wrote something down anyway.
—Allergies?
You slowly shook your head.
—Previous surgeries?
—No.
—Frequent nightmares?
You frowned.
—That’s not medical.
—Depends on the person.
Before you could respond, he took your wrist to check one of the ropes.
The contact was brief, cold even through the gloves. Your fingers trembled slightly when the cross of your necklace slipped partially out from your clothes.
He held it between his fingers.
Observing it.
—Curious symbol to wear in here.
His voice had lowered.
Softer.
—Are you also devoted?
The mask remained still. Then he let out a small exhale.
—No.
The answer was immediate.
—I have never stepped inside the house of God.
His fingers slowly released the cross.
—And I don’t believe myself particularly worthy of his love.
The phrase hit you strangely. It didn’t sound mocking or resentful. Just… certain.
As if it were something he had accepted a long time ago.
—All children of God are worthy of his love —you murmured.
Silence… Heavy.
He slowly moved around the chair again.
—Is that what they told you?
—I think so.
—Mm.
He didn’t seem convinced.
He finished adjusting one of the straps before speaking again.
—Then tell me, little devotee… is that why you chose to devote yourself to your creator?
Your lips parted slightly.
—I… grew up in the monastery.
He didn’t speak, but he listened. You could feel it.
—I was left there when I was very little… the sisters took care of me ever since.
The doctor remained still behind you.
—And I thought it was natural to follow that path.
—Natural…
He repeated the word as if tasting it.
—They don’t force me —you said quickly—. Before taking final vows they give us a choice. I can leave if I want to.
—But you still haven’t.
It wasn’t judgment. Only observation.
You lowered your gaze.
—I still don’t know.
For the first time since you entered, he stayed silent longer than usual. Then you felt his hands adjust another strap near your shoulder.
Slow… Careful.
—Indecisive.
—Is that bad?
—No.
The answer came out too quickly.
That surprised you. The doctor barely stepped back while observing you from above.
—Humans speak of faith as if belonging were something simple.
—Isn’t it?
A pause.
—Not for everyone.
The atmosphere seemed to grow colder. The motionless figures around the tent appeared to watch from the darkness while he spoke.
—Your God created creatures in his image and likeness. He gave them names. Homes. Devotion.
The dim light reflected over the dark beak of the mask.
—Favorites.
You didn’t fully understand the shift in his tone. But you understood the bitterness beneath the words.
—And the other creatures? —he continued—. The ones that didn’t fit that image.
Your throat tightened.
—Doctor…
He let out a small hollow laugh.
—Forgotten.
Silence fell again. And for the first time since entering… fear began mixing with something different.
Sadness.
Your eyes slowly lowered toward his hands… Huge hands.
Covered in gloves, stained red.
For a few moments the nervousness and heat inside your ribs grew deeper. With a deep inhale to calm yourself, you only managed to breathe in the scent of incense from the doctor, as if it naturally came from his own body.
—I don’t believe God forgets anyone —you said softly.
He didn’t answer.
—And even if someone feels abandoned… that doesn’t mean they truly are.
The mask tilted slightly toward you. You felt the full weight of his attention again.
—You speak like someone trying to convince herself.
Your breathing faltered slightly.
Because he was right, and he seemed to know it. The doctor tilted his head slightly.
—Perhaps that’s why you came here.
Your fingers slowly tightened around the fabric of your skirt.
—What do you mean?
He stepped closer once more.
Close enough for you to perceive the scent of herbs, metal, and rain clinging to his clothes.
—Maybe a part of you wanted to see something the monastery would never allow.
His voice lowered until it became almost a whisper.
—Something imperfect.
What had he meant by that?
The question remained trapped in your head even as he slowly stepped away from the chair. Then he took something from the nearby metal table. The sound of glass softly clinking against metal broke the silence. And then you saw it.
A syringe.
Large, far too large.
The pink liquid inside faintly glowed beneath the warm light.
Your body immediately tensed.
He noticed. Of course he did.
—Ah… there it is.
You swallowed nervously as he approached again. The needle looked even more intimidating up close.
The doctor set the tray aside before placing both hands on your shoulders with unexpected delicacy. His fingers slowly descended toward the collar of your shirt.
And he began unbuttoning it.
Just a little.
Enough to expose the skin of your neck.
Your breathing became clumsy. You didn’t try to move away.
You couldn’t.
But he felt the small shiver run through your body.
—Are you afraid, dear patient?
His voice sounded soft again. Almost warm.
—A little…
The confession came out quieter than expected. The doctor slightly tilted his head.
—Will you refuse my treatment?
Your eyes lowered toward the enormous pink syringe.
—What is that?
—Something to calm you.
Then he added with an oddly playful tone. (oh doctorrrrrrr lmaooo)
—And the doctor’s orders must be followed.
That should’ve alarmed you more. But instead you let out a small nervous exhale.
—Then… alright.
As if accepting was easier than resisting, and trusting him felt natural.
Silence fell between you both and for the first time since entering the tent, the doctor seemed… pleased, his fingers softly caressing one side of your neck.
—I like creatures like you.
Another shiver ran through you.
—What kind of creatures?
The mask tilted slightly.
—The ones who keep moving forward even when they’re afraid… they are the ones that attract me the most, the ones that shine the brightest.
Your heart stumbled against your ribs.
And before you could respond…
The needle pierced your skin.
A small gasp escaped your lips. It didn’t hurt as much as you expected. Only a strange pressure.
Cold.
The liquid slowly descended while the doctor held your neck with one firm and careful hand. His fingers remained there even after removing the needle. Barely caressing the area.
As if calming you.
Your eyelids began feeling heavy far too quickly.
—That’s it… breathe.
The world began softening at the edges.
The light.
The distant music.
The rain hitting outside.
Everything felt distant now.
Your gaze slowly lowered toward the crucifix still hanging from your neck and you noticed he was observing it too.
Long… Silently.
As if still trying to understand something about you or remember something.
You weren’t sure. The feeling was strange.
Because you were still nervous… but at the same time a heavy warmth began spreading through your chest.
Numb, calm.
Strangely happy.
The doctor finally released the chain of the cross.
—The consultation is over.
You blinked slowly. As if all of that had been something normal. The ropes began loosening one by one beneath his careful hands. Your arms felt light once movement returned. Before you could fully stand, he picked up something small from the table.
A pin.
Red.
Shaped like a stylized cross.
The symbol of his tent.
Delicately, he fastened it to the collar of your shirt exactly where your crucifix had rested before. Your eyes slowly lowered toward it.
—Doctor… my cross…
—It’s safe.
The answer was calm.
Then he added.
—Consider it a souvenir from your visit.
The dizziness made thinking difficult.
He offered you a gloved hand.
And strangely… you accepted it.
He helped you up from the chair before guiding you through the dark path inside the tent. The motionless figures at the sides seemed less frightening now beneath the warm haze surrounding your head, or perhaps you simply couldn’t focus properly anymore.
Upon reaching the exit, the doctor pulled aside the fabric to let you pass. The rain was still softly falling outside, creating reddish reflections over the muddy ground.
—Come visit the doctor again, dear patient.
His voice sounded muffled behind you.
Distant.
—I believe there are still many things left to examine.
You didn’t know why those words made heat slowly rise to your face.
And then you saw your friend running toward you through the crowd.
—Oh my God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!
She quickly grabbed your shoulders.
—What happened? Are you okay?
You blinked slowly.
Still dizzy, still feeling that strange numb warmth inside your chest.
Your friend noticed the red pin on your collar.
—What’s that?
Your fingers slowly rose toward the red cross attached to your clothes.
You looked back. But the entrance to the tent was already closed.
Silent. Dark. As if it had never been open at all. The circus music surrounded you again as you both started walking.
Laughter.
Applause.
Off-key music.
The reddish and golden lights seemed to drag through the damp rain, distorting before your sleepy eyes. The silhouettes of the performers blended with the smoke and fog like unreal figures.
Everything felt too bright. Too distant. Like a fever dream.
Your friend kept talking beside you, probably asking something else, but the words reached you distorted between the noise of the fair and the slow heartbeat inside your head.
Your fingers touched the doctor’s pin once more.
The red cross.
And for a second you could swear you heard that honeyed voice again beside your ear.
“I like creatures like you.”
Your breathing became slower. Warmer. You looked one last time at the circus lights in the distance as you walked farther from the cyan tent.
And almost without thinking you asked
—Can we come back tomorrow?
Your friend let out a confused laugh. But you barely heard her. Because even while walking away from the circus………..you still felt that a part of you remained seated in that chair beneath the warm dim light inside the doctor’s tent.