Vincent's pov
Morning sunlight banished the shadows of the previous
night, illuminating the domestic tableau of my family gathered around the breakfast table. My father, engrossed in the day's news, remains oblivious to the animated chatter of my brother, Mike. "And then Vinc managed to get onto the stage and calmed the massive elephant down!" he exclaimed, mimicking the events with theatrical flair. "Everyone in the audience was stunned."
"Congratulations, son!" My father beamed with pride, his joy
infectious. I hesitated, voicing a concern that gnawed at me.
"I hope the elephant is alright... I was thinking of going back to the circus today to check on her. Do you think that would be strange?"
Mike, ever the loyal sibling, reassured me. "I don't think so. Besides, they should be thanking you for your help." His words offered some comfort, but the memory of Daisy's distress lingered, refusing to be silenced.
Turning to my parents, I voiced a thought that has been stirring within me. "I've been thinking... maybe I could find a job at the circus," I suggested, glancing around at the near-empty plates. Painting just isn't bringing in enough money these days, I continued, referring to the financial struggles we've endured since my father's workplace injury forced him to quit. Our familial income now hinges upon my artistic endeavors, and they're proving insufficient to cover the escalating costs of my mother's medication.
"It's certainly worth giving it a shot," My mother agreed, a glimmer of optimism lighting her weary eyes. Throughout my childhood, I'd often preferred the company of animals over that of my peers. Games would be played, while I'd be found tending to a stray creature discovered in some forgotten corner. Over time, I had become something of a de facto caretaker for the entire town's menagerie, often acting as a makeshift vet when needed.
"Very well, son." My father approved, a hint of pride in his tone. Rising from my seat, I leaned down to press a gentle kiss upon my mother's forehead before turning towards the door. "Take care of things here, Mike." I instruct my brother, trusting him to maintain order in our household. With a final nod, I step out into the unknown, ready to embark on this new path towards the vibrant world of the circus.
Ian's pov
Silence reigns, a palpable tension hanging heavily in the aftermath. As the saying goes, "still waters run deep", and this profound quietude seems to presage the brewing tempest. If admitting I derive pleasure from Smalls' sorrow makes me a terrible person, then I'm the worst.
"Abbott!" The call, sharp and authoritative, summoned me to the
main show tent. As I entered, drawn by the unmistakable tone, I'm met with a scene of utter chaos. The aftermath of Daisy's rampage and the subsequent brawl leaved the space in disarray. Broken props, scattered costumes, and debris litter the ground, testament to the violence that erupted under the awning's canvas roof.
"What are you waiting for?" Smalls demanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "Stop standing there idle and start cleaning up this mess! This tent won't tidy itself!" A bitter smile twisted on my lips as I realized the irony – despite being the star of the night, I am still tasked with the arduous labor of restoring order from the wreckage left behind by Daisy's tantrum.
As Smalls strided toward the exit, he was abruptly halted by the appearance of a figure blocking his path. I paused, looking up to recognize the newcomer. Vincent, the boy who intervened during Daisy's rampage last night. My gaze shifting between the Smalls and the visitor before me. Why did he come back?
"They said I could find you here, sir." Vincent stated, extending his hand in greeting. Smalls accepted the offered handshake, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly at the bemusement evident on his face. Yet, a shadow of concern creeped in. What does Vincent want? Could it be that he intends to expose the mistreatment of animals in our circus? Or perhaps he plans to wield this knowledge as leverage, forcing us to cease our practices.
"I was concerned about your elephant's well-being after the
incident," Vincent said, his expression sincere. "I wanted to ensure she's recovering properly. And I hope you're faring well too, given the state of the tent." At his words, a glimmer of relief washed over Smalls' features, his lips curving into a smile. I seethed internally, itching to erase that smug expression from his face. How dare he pretend to care about Daisy's welfare when he's the one responsible for the chaos?
"Last night's events were truly tragic," Smalls admitted, holding out his trembling hands as proof. "We've never faced such a disaster before. However, crises require management skills, which we, now, need to hone. Fortunately, we acted swiftly – I dismissed the trainer immediately." Amidst my efforts to restore order, I listened to their conversation.
"I regret that I couldn't thank you properly in the chaos," Smalls declared, placing a paternal hand upon his shoulder. "Your timely intervention last night was invaluable, young man. We owe you a debt of thanks!" Smalls' eyes then shifted to me, "Abbott! Show, well..."
"Vincent Sànz."
"Show Vincent where Daisy is." At Smalls' command, I lead
Vincent outside and gestured toward the enclosure housing Daisy and several other animals. Upon entering, Vincent's countenance fell as he took in the sight of the spacious tents filled with enormous cages.
"Do they always reside within these cages?" He asked and my gaze fixed on the floorboards, unwilling to meet his probing stare.
"There are instances when they're tethered outdoors, yet for the most part, yes."
Vincent approached the cage, his attention alternating between Daisy and the surroundings. "The water appears quite contaminated." His voice carrying a note of sorrow. A pang of guilt stirred within me, though I suppress it quickly. I can't afford to dwell on the reality of our circumstances. The water container has likely gone untouched for weeks, possibly months. Yet, the thought of revealing such truths terrified me. If Smalls learned of my confess, the consequences would be dire. Is withholding information akin to deceit?
"I heard the animal trainer was let go. Do you require a
replacement?" Vincent asked, his gaze following me as I exited the tent.
"Inquire with Mr. Smalls; he's the manager here." I replied curtly, already turning away.
With an intuitive sense of his pursuer's intentions, I guided
Vincent back to the front of the performance tent, where Smalls continued to oversee the cleanup efforts. As soon as we approached, Smalls shoot me a stern glance, signaling for me to withdraw. Dutifully, I retreated, returning to the task of restoring order amidst the chaotic aftermath.
Moments later, someone entered the tent. Instead of addressing me directly, he posed a question that sounds more like a formality than a genuine inquiry. "Abbott...?" As he stepped closer, I recognized Vincent's features, his distinct accent a giveaway to his identity.
No, you will not refer to me using that damned name. The mere sound of it escaping another's lips fills me with revulsion. "Ian," I corrected him icily. I chose not to confront him further, focusing instead on my tasks.
"Ian, do you need help?" His voice a gentle intrusion into my
solitude. I continued to work, deliberately avoiding direct eye contact.
"I'll manage on my own," I retorted, my tone edged with a hint
of defensiveness. I swiftly regained composure, choosing to maintain my silence rather than probe the motives behind his actions. Together, we cleaned the arena in far shorter time than I would've anticipated working solo. By the time we finished, we stand side-by-side amidst the now spotless enclosure.
"Your performance was fascinating." A glimpse of admiration
coloured Vincent's voice.
"Why are you even here?" I sounded rude, even though I didn't mean it.
"I had some time and wanted to lend a hand." He paused
expectantly, as if awaiting a response, but I remained quiet. "I'll be the new animal trainer."
"Go back home." Brushing past him as I exited the tent, I muttered under my breath, my voice tinged with bitterness. Flee while you still can.
Vincent departed, yet his looming presence promises return.
Multitude of concerns swirled within me. How can I reconcile my desire to conceal our interaction with the moral imperative to speak out against injustice? Am I not complicit in evil by remaining silent, akin to the monstrous beings I've been conditioned to despise? The irony is not lost on me – I've spent my entire life being taught to keep quiet, to accept my perceived weakness and powerlessness.