Budapest » [Clintasha]

Chapter Forty: Carson Carnival

Barney's announcement of enrolling felt like a punch to the stomach. All the air was driven out of my body and my mouth gaped in pain. Instantly, tears brewed in my eyes, tears I valiantly strove to hold back.

"You can't just leave me here! Join the army and pretend you don't have to look after me-"

"I don't!" Barney roared, and hurled the empty bottle of whiskey at me in contempt. Ducking, it smashed just above my head, showering my pillow and mattress in specks of glass and some larger chunks too. Remants of whiskey drizzled down the wall and a few droplets were dabbled across my bed. "That's what you can't seem to get into your thick skull, Clint! I'm not ma' and pa'; I don't have to look after you! You're not a baby anymore! No one's gonna look after you but yourself!" Barney rolled over onto his side, sulking in a drunken stupor.

"So, what? You're just gonna ditch me? Here? At the orphanage?" I breathed, Barney finally looking away I allowed myself to cry.

"I need money, Clint!" I could barely make out his words. "I need a life beyond you! You're not my priority," he grumbled, his slurred words muffled by the pillow he was nuzzled against.

"That's not fair!" I protested, wiping the glass off my bed and successfully managing to impale my hand on various particulates.

"Life's not fair!" He turned around to face me, scowling, blobs of spit flying from his mouth as he spoke. "And if you don't like the way I'm treating you, fuck off! See if I give a shit?! My life would be a helluva lot easier without you!"

I just nodded mutely, a crestfallen expression across my tear-soaked face.

Barney passed out in a drunken stupor that evening, drooling against the misshapen pillow. The stench of whiskey fast filled the room and gusts of air were coming in through the old window. With nothing but muslin hanging in the window as a curtain, punctured with holes, I could see the lights of the city on the horizon.

Through teary eyes, I could see the lights of the carnival.

I swore I could almost make out the music from this distance. At the very least, I could see the crest of the big-top through the window; a tent of red and white canvas, striped, peaked. It was so full of life, so full of colour, so full of excitement.

If you don't like it, fuck off!

You're gonna run away from your problems now?

What you gonna do? Run away?

That was it. That build up of guilt in my head, the years of insults and abuse repeating on me, the utter inconvenience of my presence that tipped me over the edge.

Tiptoeing around Barney, I grabbed his Iowa Hawkeyes jersey, threw it on for warmth and snatched his wallet off the bedside table. Fanning through, there was nothing more than a few dollars, but it would do for a few stalls and a drink.

I was light on my feet as I walked past his bed and over creaking floorboard; checking each one before I put weight on it. Tentatively, I found my way to the window and lifted it open with a squeak. Barney snored obtrusively and then turned over.

Skinny as I was from malnutrition, I managed to squeezed through the gap and then scaled the ivy-draped wall to the ground. I landed with a small thud and there was no sign of consciousness from the room above; just Barney's bearish snoring. I'm surprised he hadn't woken the whole building with it.

It was as simple as following the eruption of lights on the horizon. I wormed my way down a few dark alleys, ran across a few roads and then emerged in the field on the edge of town where the carnival was being staged.