As soon as I had left, the sound of a man clearing his throat drew the attention of the old woman. She was not shocked to see the ringmaster creeping once more from the shadows, where he had been eavesdropping. The dawn had long turned to morning as I passed through the mystic’s narrative, and within the time, the circus troupe had returned to the grounds to practice and prepare for the afternoon show.

     The ringmaster had been on his way to consult with the mystic and had found us at her booth. He was not overjoyed with finding us conspiring together, and when he had overheard our plans, he was crushed with betrayal. He had remained hidden until I had gone, oblivious of him ever being present. The lady was not secretive with her disapproval of him, but the ringmaster ignored this. He still loved her with what love his heart could hold, but he would never consider the fact his actions had lost her approval. Even now, though the old woman no longer treated him as her angel, he went to her. He looked for guidance, even if he planned to disobey it.

     “So, it is true then. You plot to take it all away from me. The only one who ever gave me anything: love and the power to make a new future for myself. And now you want to ruin it.” The ringmaster glared at her with those cold, gray eyes. Yet there was no hate within them, or even anger. He bowed his head in dismay, but also submission. “Very well. But you won’t succeed. Some stranger meddling won’t make a difference. I’ll make sure of that.” The mystic stood up, again, surprisingly fast, and agile for her age, and spoke in an equally commanding tone.

     “It’s time to close the curtain. This show’s at its end. It’s for your own good, boy. Please, just stop this now…before you get yourself into trouble.” The ringmaster considered her words and responded carefully.

     “I’m sorry. You have no power over me. No one does. The police have no evidence, and the troupe has too much fear to step out of line. If this man poses a threat, it will be over soon. I just hope you will not get into this. I do not wish to hurt you.” The ringmaster spoke with shivering sincerity. It was enough to make one sick, how he cared so much for the old woman yet bore the evil soul of a murderer and a monster.

     “Don’t you see, boy? You’ve already hurt me,” the old lady whispered, her eyebrows knotted and her voice heavy. She spoke it curtly, like an insult, and the ringmaster flinched at her words. He idolized her enough that shame burned him from her response, yet he could feel no regret. While the old woman constantly scolded him for his horrible acts and he felt cowardly under her anger, he truly did not see the error of his ways. To a child grown from torture, the life he now lived as a slavedriver could not possibly be wrong. His troupe members he saw as but empty husks, reflections of himself made from illusions of the past. Thus, he shook off her words and warnings and continued on his dark path.

     “You were the closest thing to family I ever had. I have not forgotten all you have done for me. Which is why I mustn’t allow it to be taken. I just hope you can forgive me.” With that, the ringmaster turned from the old woman, yet he heard her final words echo over his shoulder.

     “I shall not. You’ve become a monster.”

     The ringmaster’s head bowed; his hat tipped low. His slumped shoulders glinted with the fresh light of the blooming morning. As this final verbal attack added to the wounds inflicted upon the showrunner’s shriveled soul, he marched onward. He never turned to look back. He did not want to see the disappointment on the old woman’s face.