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12. Joseph

Layla was in the tub now, Michael just started to wash her hair. There was a heavy silence which she didn't want to break, she'd rather have him open up when he was ready. She noticed the lighter patches of skin once more and thought to ask about it, but from what she saw that day in the shower, that too could be a hard topic for him to speak about.

Michael broke the silence, "Joseph had a music group himself called the Falcons. In case you haven't caught on, Joseph is my father. He didn't want us to call him that. When my brothers were big enough and Joseph discovered that they had talent themselves he wanted to form a family band. I was discovered when I was only about 4 or 5 years old. I loved to dance and sing. I used to watch artists like James brown on television when he came on. I studied and aspired to be just like him..."

Layla listened, waiting for him to continue. Michael moved his hand to the back of her head, it hurt a bit so she flinched.

"I'll get to that part of the story soon," he mentioned.

Layla sighed, "I'm sorry it just startled me is all."

"Once I became part of the band, Joseph wanting nothing short of perfection for us. Each turn had to be on cue, every step in the right direction, notes had to be hit even if you thought it was impossible. But if you messed up..." he stopped.

A few moments passed by. His hands stopped moving on her head. She looked back at him but his expression was blank.

"Michael?"

He blinked back to reality, "I apologize."

"You don't have to continue if you don't want to," Layla grabbed his hand.

"I'm getting through this. Don't worry about me," he sighed.

"He used what was accessible. Cords, tree branches, belts. Anything. No one was favored, no one was spared. He'd hit you until he thought you got his message. He didn't want us to make a fool out of him, or ourselves. But he took it to extremes, so badly that my mother had to scream at him to stop, that he was killing us. We'd pull off performances though, we tried to make the best of it. My mother was very caring for us but shows took us away from her. Joseph was the one who took us on the road. I barely got to hang out with other kids, I rarely played on a playground because I was working. People loved me on the road and it made it so hard for me to grow up, because they want you to stay small. When we were on the road my father would cheat on my mother I'm not going to lie. My brothers would also find girls and have sex with them in the same room, which they'd tell me to just pretend to sleep. They'd find these girls at the clubs we used to perform at, so I was exposed to that crowd very early on. When I was a teen I suffered with acne. Severe acne which I was so insecure about. People would come up to us and ask where 'little Michael' was. I'd wave and they'd say terrible things. I don't like the way I look. I never have. I'm sure you've noticed the tape over the mirror in my bathroom. I'd rather not look at my reflection. Then came the spots. Blotches of pale skin. It's called vitiligo, I've inherited it from my grandfather. Nowadays people aren't too understanding and would rather call me a freak for the laughs than listen to me. I'm not ashamed of my skin color, it's just something that I can't control."

"That's what these are?" Layla pointed at a patch on her arm.

He nodded, "When it started, I tried to cover it up but makeup would just sweat right off. My glove for Billie Jean was also an attempt of covering it up. Coincidentally it became one of my signature things."

"What about your head? What happened?"

"Oh, I was doing a Pepsi commercial and my scalp literally caught on fire from a spark that went off behind me. Hurts all the time. Which I forgot to mention I do have meds for." He dried his hands off, "it's kind of nice not to feel that pain for once."

"You're a solo artist now, I'd think that this would be traumatizing for you to continue on, why didn't you quit music when you got away from your father? How did you even get away?"

"I wanted to go solo and separate from my father business wise. I didn't tell anyone what I planned to do and during my victory tour with my brothers I told the audience and I left from there. Joseph did give me a hard time about it, wanting me to credit him for my success but I refused. Performing wasn't all that bad. I love to perform, I love my fans dearly. It was my ties to my father that was hard for me. I love to create. Why? Don't you like my music?" He smiled.

Layla scratched the back of her neck and shrugged, "it's okay."

"Such a critic. Really gave me a 3/10 but I'll take it," he laughed.

"I'm sorry you went through all of this Michael, I really am," Layla grabbed his hand.

"Hey, if it didn't happen I wouldn't be where I am now, I'm grateful for my fans and all of the love I've received. It's what keeps me going," he replied.

"Who was jiggling the  doorknob back at home Michael?" She asked.

"How should I know?"

"I think you do but just wont tell me."

"Okay, tell me exactly what in the fuck is going on." Sydney pushed open the cracked door.

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