Chapter Text
Prologue
Your ears were ringing as you finally came to. Your back hurt, like you had been repeatedly thrown onto the ground—maybe you had? You couldn’t remember the last three hours of your life if someone asked you. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, you were sitting in a red tent. Dark, you couldn’t see anything past your fingers. Your chest hurt—like some had stepped on it and cracked your sternum. The tent was quiet. Unerringly so. You lifted your head slowly—you were sitting at a table. Small china teacups sat on the table infront of you. They looked gently used. You tried to move your arms—they were tied with ropes. Why were you tied up?
You didn’t understand. You didn’t want to. You didn’t know this place. You would eventually. You would never know the warmth of your mother ever again. You wiggled your arms slightly—the rope cutting into your already raw wrists—you hissed through your teeth, you wouldn’t be trying that again anytime soon. The room smelled strange—metallic almost, it made you want to gag, the sweet undertone only made it worse—strawberries.
The steam curled up from the teacups slowly—you weren’t placed here on accident. Normal black tea cooling in the cup. A cube of sugar floating around as it disintegrated slowly.
A figure moved closer to you from the shadows—tall, a man with silver hair? A clown maybe given the bells you had seen on the lower parts of his hat. They made little to no noise. It seemed the man knew you had spotted him. Maybe he was just staying in the dark a little longer to taunt you.
You pulled on the ropes again, it caused you to let out an actual noise. The shadow stopped before it went back into the shadows again. Maybe he was more scared of you then you were him. The chair tilted slowly—you let out a yelp as you hit the floor of the tent—the clown finally mustered up enough courage to come forward. Your chair was lifted up slowly, sharp gloved hands ran over your shoulders—it caused you to scream, which didn’t last very long with how quickly his hands slapped over your mouth, those claws were now digging into your cheek.
He let you go eventually, his long silver hair fell over his shoulders, he hadn’t spoken a word to you either, just a slow inspection of your body. Those orange eyes staring into yours for a moment before he finally got bored—moving back into the shadows.
The tea was getting cold. You weren’t drinking it? Right. Your hands were still tired. Your head leaned back slowly—it felt like you had drugs in your system. Maybe you did. Everything would clear up with you soon enough. You closed your eyes for just a moment—Pierrot had gotten bold enough to loom over you for just a second. One of your eyes cracked open, apparently he hadn’t seen you before either. He made his way around the table slowly, sitting across from you. He was about to open his mouth. Before another voice beat him to it.