House of Freaks

The first mistake was entering the House.

The second was letting them know I liked it.

There are rules here.

Don’t wander from the marked path.

Don’t open locked doors.

Don’t speak to the freaks.

And whatever you do, don’t let them learn your name.

I break every single one.

Now the doors won’t open, my name is being whispered through the walls, and three men who were never supposed to touch the guests have decided I’m the most interesting thing that’s ever wandered into their cage.

They call themselves freaks. Monsters. Abominations.

But monsters are supposed to disgust you.

They’re not supposed to make your pulse race when they corner you. They’re not supposed to

recognize the ugly things buried inside you. And they sure as fuck aren’t supposed to make you

wonder whether being ruined might finally feel like being wanted.