What Happened Under The Big Tent (IT'S ALL PART OF THE SHOW SEQUEL)

Chapter XIII🦂Golden

Take me back to my youth... bring me closer to you.

...
I woke up.
Little did I know, we had arrived in Omaha and the guys had already started unloading the train. Some of the trucks in fact had already trailered equipment over to the venue.

How long had I been out? Truth is, I hadn't a clue.

I had fallen asleep and rather quickly too. -I must have just been out completely after I blacked out. The last thing I remember was laying in my Father's arms.
I was in my bed in our trailer/train car. -Father must have carried me from where I passed out to the inner chamber and laid me down on my bed.

I felt the sheets under me half warm half cold. They were wet.
I became nervous quicker than I could actually speak.
I had wet the bed.

I looked around with a piercing vision scanning the chamber.
Fear set in.

I was not sure if it was a nightmare or what exactly was the cause, but I was a little uneasy.
I looked around again and caught glimpse of my Father. Usually I would jump out of my skin, but I knew how my Father was. —That didn't change the feeling turning over inside me.

Suddenly, I got stiff- maybe he wouldn't notice. I was afraid to tell him- not because of what he'll do or say, but out of embarrassment.
Maybe, just maybe he would not notice. -I found myself creating a repetition with the thought.

I took a shaky breath as my eyes fell fixed on him- I found myself struggling to look up from the red fabric that made up his tuxedo-like blazer.
Eventually, seconds later -that felt more like minutes, I spoke to him:
"F-Father..."
I began swallowing my words. 
I was anxious.
I was afraid to tell him.

"I'm all ears kiddo."
He says.
-I finally understand what those words meant after being with Bartholomew up on that hill in Idaho.

Father noticed my uneasiness and tension, but he didn't want to directly press me on the matter because he's aware of what the outside world did to me.

"Its all right. Its all right."
His voice cracked as he spoke -which actually made me less tense about telling him of the situation.

"I- I..."
My tongue twisted up and a lump formed steadfast in my throat.

I could sense my Father wanted to say what he knew I was thinking, but I realized he was waiting it out so he didn't sound so abrupt. Marcus knew that might make me feel more unsure about telling him.

"It's alright. You can tell me, Tiger."
He spoke softly-hoping the insert of my nickname might dampen the tension in my stomach.
And it did.

I inhaled deeply.
I knew I could tell him anything, but I concluded that he knows. He just knows no matter what goes on, what I tell him or how much I tell him.. or don't, he is aware. In the end, I usually tell him whatever the matter is.

See, Father knows all too well that I have been hushed, turned away, yelled at, miss-treated, neglected and abused all because of trying to cry out for help and get someone to see the bigger picture.
Marcus wasn't about to let that trauma recreate itself because here, at The Carnival- at home, I was always welcome to have an opinion, have feelings- experience emotions and thoughts... as well as express it all openly and willingly to sixty plus people who were all family to one-another.
Family that never jugged no matter how dark your secrets were, or how dark they might get, where you came from, what you experienced, what you liked and or what you believed.
They were always supportive, compassionate, caring, empathetic and understanding... even in this case, in my case right now. Standing before my Father- especially in this moment.