Snippet #2170807

The clock was already starting to tick past two, it was the second day of work in this town, and Ezekiel was already fed up with it all. He had been apart of the circus for as long as he could remember, thanks to being sold to it while he was still an infant, yet no matter how many years past by the boy never grew used to it. The stares from their customers prickled his skin, and that wasn't the worst of it. Having them point him out and loudly talk about what made him different, a freak, a monster continuously haunted him. Even if he told himself that nothing they said was true it would come back to him in his nightmares.

Honestly, he hated himself at times. The way his legs morphed into thick, black, dry flesh that ran across awkward, thin feet; feet with only four long toes, one of them located on the back, and there was a talon on each end. Learning how to walk had been difficult for him, he remembered barely being even to walk across the room when other children would be running around for hours. Then there were the feathered covered wings that jutted out of his back, crooked and bulky they had no use and was always getting in the way. Despite knowing how much it would hurt, he had days where he would contemplate getting them cut off completely. But then he would be no use to the circus, and he'd be on the streets where he'd either starve or be killed.

When he was younger and more naive, Ezekiel had thought that he could somehow manage to live outside of this place. That somehow he would find the money, the food, the shelter to live. Time and time again he was dragged back here, and soon enough such a thing became only a foolish dream. He had come to terms with the reality of the situation, the world didn't want people like him in it unless they were going to exist to entertain them. Something that didn't help was that even if that majority of his life had been painful and brutally unfair, he did not want to die and instead he clung to life and the precious few good moments in it. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the Torture Circus to survive.

The brunette quickly finished off his cup of water. As cruel as this place was, Mr.Torture wasn't a moron. He understood that his slaves 'employees' couldn't work like machines. If they were good, then they would be rewarded with the essentials to live and without undergoing punishment. Zeke had been on break after finishing a trapeze performance, an act that was nearly traumatizing in his early years. But walking across a thin rope was now a bit peaceful, so long as he managed to ignore the stares and chatter of the audience below. He was good at it, he had to be since they didn't use a net for his act to make it a bit more 'swanky' and 'exciting'. Besides, only then would he find himself not minding if he fell, even if it was too his death. He still didn't want to die, but the thought of falling during an accident while performing sounded a lot more serene than the other ways he could go. Plus, the faces of the heartless crowd would be priceless, with his final moments being branded into their minds forever.

There was no doubt that his tightrope act was a gift compared to the other acts that some of the mutants had to undergo. There was Sam, who had to break out of a coffin and be forced to stay underwater for several minutes. He had come to the circus when Zeke was eight, and the two hadn't really spoken to each other much, but he didn't mind the other mutant. Then there was Happy, she occasionally had to charm snakes even if she had quite a fear of them. There was also the sexual exploitation of her, such things never sat well with him. He didn't think they got on very well though, as if their personalities just didn't work together well.

Not everyone had to perform such a taxing act though. Ester was assigned to entertain by doing several things with her telepathy, which was simple enough. The girl was one of the few people that he actually felt that he could trust, even if it was just a little bit. She's both kind and tough, and he was under the impression that things between them was pretty good, or at least decent. Mark's act wasn't so bad either, though it certainly could become dangerous if he lost control, or worse. The winged boy wouldn't call them friends, or anything of the like, but the telekinetic was nice enough and he had no problem with him.

Ezekiel looked over to the pocket watch that had been left on one of the wooden tables. It was nearing the time where he was supposed to head to the freak show tent and spend some time in a cage, letting people get all up-close and personal with him. He'd rather be several feet in the air. There was no attempt at dragging out his break though, it would only backfire, so the boy stood and walked back outside. The heat of the sun was warm and he was thankful for the summer heat. Things could get too cold when he was constantly stuck in clothes like the ones he currently wore; a short sleeved, white button down with holes in the back for his wings with black trousers that had been rolled up to his knees and pinned in place.

He groaned and rubbed his temple, feeling a headache come on as he walked towards the red and blue striped tent. There were too many people around him, all talking, all pointing, but thankfully no one dared to touch him. The assumption that he had a disease of all things wasn't always so bad, so long as it prevented these people from laying their grubby fingers all over him.