Spoiler! :
1.
I was nothing but a lifeless doll.
Who was I to say I had feelings? Who was I to call myself human? But when he found me, he made me realize I am someone. He made me realize that I am human. And as much as I wished I had a normal friend, a ringmaster was just as perfect.
Jean is a charmer; a handsome man with a slightly square jaw and ever so vivid blue eyes that your legs would buckle and your heartbeat would never stay a pace so steady. His silky hair was gelled back, though some strands of brown hung over his forehead. He was a to-die-for man. His gorgeousness was exceedingly breathtaking, but only a trap—a trap to disappointment. Many women would fall for him and ask him on a date, but he would wave them off like flies. But with me, he always kept me close.
***
I was eleven, sitting in the dark alley eating nothing but scraps Chef O’Flere threw to me behind his restaurant. My mother had abandoned me, and my father had died of a heart attack. I had no story, I had no life. Then one day, as I picked the bone of a chicken leg, the sound of heels knocking the cobblestone at a patient pace startled me and caused me to drop it. No one has ever walked the alley so patiently—humming.
I pressed close against the wall next to the restaurants back door, hugging my legs tight to my chest. The lamp that hung loosely on the brick wall above spilled a flickering fluorescent yellow—making it a little hard to be seen. Someone could’ve easily mistaken me for a tiny garbage bag.
The hummer walked closer and closer—I shut my eyes and pressed my forehead on my knees, trying to make myself invisible. The walking finally stopped in front of me, but the humming took a second to finish.
“My, my,” said the hummer, which was a man. I slowly looked up caught myself drowning in awe from his deep blue eyes. He wore a ringmaster outfit—even the tall black hat. A ringmaster? Here? In this alley where no one bothers to wander? The man looked around, and then smiled wide at me.
“My, my,” he repeated, in a whispering awe. “You my darling, look lost. You look absolutely lost. Has your mum left you at the doorstep of a stranger?”
The words were stuck in my throat. Mother left me in the streets when I was six—but it was too hard for me to explain, so all I did was nod.
The ringmaster bent over and offered his hand. “Well forgive me for not opening the door right away.”
***
I never forgot that day—the day that man found me. The moment I touched his hand, he gave me life. That man. The one they call, Jean Flaur De Vaux.
I opened my eyes, and before me stood millions of people clapping and screaming. I stood perfectly still on my stance, waiting for the audience to quiet down. The music began to play; it was a slow melody played by violins. The notes were long and soft—almost like a lullaby. It must’ve been one of Johann Sebastian Bach’s pieces—he was one of Jean’s favorite composers.
I began to dance, moving gracefully across the stage, twirling on my toes. The outfit Jean made me wear was uncomfortable and itchy—I had no taste in tutus, but he said it was eye catching so…why not give what the public wants?
The song ended and I did a deep bow as my bird, Cato landed on my shoulder. The Goffin cockatoo ducked his head many times to bow. I wanted to laugh, but to look perfect for the audience, laughing was out of the question—so I kept my face as straight as I could, staring past the audience as they screamed their hearts out.
I left the stage and a few other performers brushed passed me and went to perform. The audience wasn’t as loud to them as they were to me. I found myself grinning and sat in front of the vanity desk, looking at the makeup that coated my face as Cato wandered off.
Two warm hands landed on my shoulders, and I sighed with relief. The mirror revealed Jean's wicked (or triumphant) smile.
“My, my,” he whispered in awe. “What a lovely performance--what a star you are. Well done, Nella. Well done!"
I smiled at myself. I know.
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