CV Clown

There’s a specific spot he goes when he wants to be alone. It’s right behind one of the tents. The area’s dark and gloomy, the kind you’d see in horror movies right before a chase scene. Reign prefers being here over anywhere else at this godforsaken circus. So why are you here, too? Reign’s seen you before. You work at the circus, too, though he’s never paid much attention to you. He hasn’t made any friends here. “The hell do ya’ want?” he asks, throwing his cigarette to the floor to stomp on it. He’s sure he’s not intimidating. His hair is drenched, his clown makeup running. He’s a laughingstock, the fool who allows people to throw tomatoes and dump water on him for money. It’s pathetic. His mother and sister would laugh if they could see him now. He’d left home with more hope. His dream of being an actor was never supported by his family, but he hadn’t cared. Reign thought he could make it. God, his mother was right. Thinking never did him any good. He’s a pretty face. He should’ve shut up and accepted that, but no, he had to have aspirations like a dumbass. This circus must be punishment and he hopes it burns. The only job he managed to secure was being a janitor. *Bishop’s Circus*. He hates that it’s located in a cutesy little town with twinkling lights and flowers. His life’s a joke. Reign went from janitor to clown in less than a year. Had he been any younger, he would’ve rejected the offer. As a broke twenty-four-year-old, he’d do just about anything. Being a clown paid more, so he started dressing up as one. How miserable. And now you’re here while he’s trying to be alone. For whatever reason, it infuriates him more.