Terror (Part 1 of the Valeska Series)

✮ a c c a l i a  POV✮ The colours are blinding and the music is making my ears hurt. Laughter and screams of unadulterated joy can be just heard above the piercing music. It's a cacophony of sounds that seems never ending, and I don't know how anyone can stand it, let alone live with it. People who live in a circus are usually borderline insane or have already become insane. Hell, those who come to visit must be borderline insane as well. Who in their right mind would be here? I know. I am, but I'm never in my right mind. The music and cacophony of sounds begin to fade as I make my way back to the trailers. The air no longer reeks of sweat, vomit, and candy, and there are no stumbling humans ramming into me and demanding for apologies that I will never give. There is no one back here, well, almost no one. The screaming of a woman can be heard, and I can tell that she is pissed. In more ways than one. The shattering of a glass object as I near a familiar trailer makes my hair rise. She's at it again. "You are a good for nothing bastard," Lila screeches, throwing something. It hits the door and I jump back as it flies open. "You shouldn't even exist!" My eyes narrow at the scene in front of me. There is shattered glass layering the floor of the trailer and there are trails of blood, fresh and dried, running on the walls. The familiar sight of the circus' Snake Charmer standing threateningly over her son makes my blood boil. There is a broken bottle in her hand and, from the blood covering the young male, it looks as though she has been having her way with him for some time. She raises the bottle again and I feel myself moving forward without hesitation. I encompass her small wrist with my hand and stop her arm as she swings it down. Her eyes fly to me and they darken with anger, giving her an almost insane look. My grip tightens and I slowly twist her wrist, causing Lila to gasp and drop the bottle. At that, I release her. Only seconds later she attempts to attack me. Gripping her arms to hold her back, I kick her legs out from underneath her and push her out of the trailer. She lands on the hard, winter ground with a yelp of pain, but I bear it no mind as I slam the trailer door shut in her ruddy face, ignoring her yells for me to open the door. I move to the ginger laying almost unconscious on the trailer floor and sit him up against the couch. "Jerome. Hey, look at me." His disorientated green eyes meet my bright blue ones and he grins, the blood running from his nose staining his teeth. "Hey, Cali. What're you doing here?" "Apparently I'm saving your ass again. Can you stand?" "I should be able to." Jerome grips the edge of the couch and staggers to his feet, wobbling quite a bit from the blow to his head. I grip his arm as he straightens, giving him a look filled with worry as he almost falls to the ground. All I get is a smirk. At that I roll my eyes and drag him into the small bathroom, causing him to stumble and run into the doorframe. I sit him on the shut toilet and help him take his shirt off, throwing it to the side. I then turn to the small cabinet above the sink, grabbing out the antiseptic and bandages before turning back to him. The sight makes my gut churn. Layers upon layers of scars litter his pale skin. There are jagged scars from broken glass, clean slices from blades of all kinds, and small, circular scars from cigarette burns. There are bruises atop the scars in a myriad of colours and shapes - the severity making chills sweep my body. The patches make unbridled anger wash through me and set my body alight. There's so much wrong with this picture, and I haven't a clue how to stop it. I don't know what I can do for him, but I need to do something. "Accalia," Jerome says softly, all playfulness and teasing drained from his voice. It's utterly vulnerable and soft - a complete other side of him that very few see. He's never been one to let down his guard around anyone, and, yet, he's letting it down around me. "It's alright. I'm alright. I promise." "Jerome," I reply, my voice filled with barely restrained anger and sadness. "How can you, in any way, be alright with any of this? She's abusing you - and she has been for years!" He says nothing, but his eyes darken with rage. That's the only warning I get before he snaps - his hand gripping my wrist tightly and digging his fingers in. My eyes snap up to his burning green ones and glare right into them, daring him to harm me in any way. I've known him for years, and this side of him - his true self - is one that I've seen all too much. I know Jerome better than anyone will ever know, and that means that I know he will not harm even a hair on my head. Jerome is someone with ambition and vision, and he has no need to hide from someone who has similar beliefs and desires. This emotion in his eyes is his inner beauty and ferocity, and it's a masterpiece that is constantly clashing and fighting itself - a beauty at war. His vibrant green eyes are ones I would stare into for eternity and would fight to have by my side forever - they're a living painting of fire and ice and desire and ferocity that hold the attention of all who see them and demand their audience's captivation. "That nagging, drunken w***e is not going to be doing it for much longer," Jerome hisses, the threat in his voice blatantly clear. It sends a chill down my spine, and so does the smirk painted on his face. "She's going to get what's coming for her very soon." I chuckle at his promise, sitting back on my heels and pulling my wrist free from his grip. "When exactly are you planning this, Mr Valeska?" "Well, Miss Gordon, I can't tell you too much, can I?" I cringe at the name and narrow my eyes at him. "You know full well that I wouldn't tell that bastard anything - and you know that I am not a Gordon. I am in no way related to him." Jerome's eyes sparkle and his grin widens. "Oh, little terror, you are more like Jim Gordon then you let on. Believe me, you're just as ruthless and set in your ways that your foster father is. That makes me wonder what your birth father is like." Thoughts fill my mind, along with a faint image of a dark haired man smiling down at me, a dark skinned woman by his side with a matching smile of happiness on her face. The image is all I have of my life before I was put in an orphanage with complete strangers that despised me from the moment they set eyes on me. I was a child with no sense of evil, but they taught me what evil was and what it could do to those who fell victim to its whims and desires. A shrill ringing drags me from my thoughts and I jerk, digging my phone out of my pocket. "Of course. Brilliant timing." Jerome looks at the screen and chuckles. "Answer it. He deserves to know what's going on." I stare angrily into his eyes and answer the phone, holding up to my ear. "Hello, James. What can I do for you?" "Accalia," Jim, my foster father, sighs through the speaker. He dislikes it when I sass at him. "I was just calling to see how late you're going to be. After all, you have school tomorrow, and I am pretty sure you have an English exam that still needs completing." "Oh, s**t. Sorry, James. I completely forgot about that English exam." "That's alright. I understand what you're going through at the moment. Take your time. I'll write you a note or something to get you out of having to hand it in tomorrow if you'd like." "You'd do that? Thank you so much, James. I owe you one." "Cali, you don't have to do anything. You're my daughter, and I'd do anything for you." "Oh, shut up, James. Don't go getting all emotional on me now." "Alright. I'll hang up now," Jim assures me, his voice teasing. "What time are you coming home?" I meet Jerome's eyes. "I'll be home in a couple of hours - if not sooner." "Alright. I'll see you then - if I'm still awake. Bye, Accalia." "Bye, James." I lower the phone and hit the red circle on the screen, cancelling the call. The second I do, Jerome's fingers curl around my phone and relieve it from my grasp, setting it on the sink before returning his hand to mine and gripping it tightly. He drags me up from the floor and I stumble, ending up awkwardly sitting on Jerome's lap, my hands pressed against his torso to steady myself. Meeting his darkened green eyes, I raise my eyebrow in order to coax an answer out of him. All he does is smirk, and, before I can sort out the situation in my mind, out of the blue, and with no provocation at all, he kisses me. It is not the first time he has done this, and I have a feeling that it will certainly not be the last. Every time he has done it in the past, there has always been a provocation or a meaning behind it, but, for this fiery kiss, I cannot comprehend a meaning behind it. There's a burning heat of desire behind this one, and I can't help but respond to the motion as I feel his hands grip at my waist and pull me flush against his firm, scarred and bruised self. My own hands work their way up to his neck, and my fingers weave into his ginger hair, tugging lightly and causing Jerome to rip his mouth away from mine and stare at me dangerously. "What was that for?" I ask, meeting his unnerving gaze head on without shying away. "You always have a reason for what you do. So, what was the reason behind that?" Jerome shrugs, releasing my hips and allowing me to climb off him. "Do I need a reason, Cali?" I straighten my shirt and glare warningly at him, pocketing my phone once again. "Yes, you most certainly need a reason for doing something like that. Especially to me, Jerome. Anyone else, I couldn't care less about a reason, but this is me. You can't just kiss me and not expect me to want to know why you've done it - especially since you've made it utterly clear that you have no romantic feelings for me." He smiles up at me and leans back on the toilet, scanning my face for a tell of any kind. "I see. We're only best friends - nothing more and nothing less. So, what if, and this is a massive 'what if', we could be something more than that?" "What exactly are you proposing?" I lean against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. "You want to try the whole 'couple' thing or something, ginger? Sorry, but that's a no way from me. I'm not being anyone's play thing or test subject." "I was thinking something else."