🧩🌈 Michael Jackson and the girl who has Autism 🧩🌈

Chapter Eight

After my first session with the therapist, Michael was able to understand more about my autism.

He knew that I was still recovering from my traumatic experience in a car wreck, and I also wasn't very social with anyone else my age.

Paris, Prince, and Bigi enjoyed having me around and I loved playing different games and doing fun things with them.

Sometimes, Michael would watch me playing with his children, which is is what he did every now and then to try and understand my autism from my point of view.

He had already written down a few notes on a piece of paper.

I get very anxious about social situations, and I was also literal about everything.

Then, while Michael was looking through my medical records, he found something that he never knew about.

It was police report about a time when a mental hospital was shut down after many witnesses stood up for the first in years.

The nurses were abusive to the disabled patients, and most of them were little children.

Michael could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces.

Could this be the reason why I've never spoken before?

In all the time since I have stayed with Michael and his children in Neverland, the king of pop had no idea of the pain and suffering that me and the other patients went through.

The singer knew that he had to talk to me about my traumatic past, but it wouldn't be easy.

I was drawing with some crayons in coloring my book while sitting at the kitchen table.

Michael pulled out a chair and sat down next to me.

"I need to talk to you about something".

I put down my red crayon next to my coloring book.

"Do you remember the time when you were staying at a mental hospital"?

He asked me.

At first, I didn't understand what he was talking about.

Michael took out my medical documents and then he pointed his finger at a picture of a mental hospital with a group of disabled children.

My mind started to trace back to all the pain that me and the other patients went through.

We were beaten physically by the nurses and they left us with barely anything to eat or drink.

I wished my parents never sent me that horrible place.

But they did.

And now, they're long gone and dead as a doormat.

I broke down in tears and struggled to stay calm.

"No no. It's okay. No one's gonna hurt you".

I started to have a panic attack and Michael didn't know what to do.

After he called the bodyguards in, they gave me some oxygen through a breathing tube.

"Shhhh....shhhh...you're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you".

Michael let me sit down in his lap and he had his arm wrapped around me while I buried my face in his chest.

I began focusing on the sound of his heartbeat.

Once I was calmed down, Michael asked me a few questions and then he told me that we're going out somewhere.

I wiped the tears away from my face using the side of my hand.

After I was ready to go, Michael led me outside to the limo.

We went to the police station to file a report against the nurses who abused me and the other disabled children at the mental hospital.

The police could tell that this was an uncomfortable topic for me, but I bravely told them everything that happened.

Michael could almost feel himself crying as I told my story.

After doing a bit of research, we were shocked to learn that only a few of the patients had survived and were still alive.

Unfortunately for the others, they had succumbed due to their injuries from many years of abuse.

A few days later, Michael's received a call from the local courthouse and they told him that the mental hospital had been shut down permanently for all the bad things the employees had done to the patients.

A memorial was being made to honor the deceased patient who spent the last years of their lives living in that terrible place.