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

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Michael noticed that my behavior had changed a little.

At breakfast time, he barely heard a word from me while we ate our meal.

I was still depressed about my horrible past, and being reminded of my unfair treatment at that mental hospital was hurting me emotionally.

Paris, Prince, and Bigi had been told about the horrible situation their father had found out about me, and they could see how sad I was.

Michael also informed my therapist about what he had found out, and since I was having another session with her very soon, this would be a perfect opportunity to express my feelings with the therapist about what happened all those years ago.

But since I was becoming less vocal, Michael didn't know how he could help me with learning to communicate with him and his children.

Until one day, I was sitting in my room writing in my diary about my thoughts and feelings.

Michael had come in to check on me and when he saw what I was doing, it gave him an idea.

He asked me to sit with him in the living room and I followed him with my diary safely locked tight with a special key that I always used.

Once we were both sitting down on the sofa in the living room, I was surprised when Michael pulled me closer so that I was sitting down in his lap.

He kissed top of my head and when I started to feel nervous, Michael comforted me by whispering in my ear, telling me that everything was okay.

"May I see what you wrote in your diary"?

The king of pop asked me.

At first, I moved my diary away from him so he couldn't see what was inside.

"It's okay, sweetie. I promise that that I won't let anyone else see it".

After giving me a warm smile, I finally decided to comply and slowly held out my diary for him to see.

I gave him the special key that I used to keep from anyone from accessing it.

"Aunt Janet gave this to you for your birthday, didn't she"?

Michael asked, as he inserted the key into the lock.

I nodded my head up and down.

"I'm happy that you're using it".

He gave me another smile.

I felt my nervous feelings coming back, and Michael was happily touched when I scooted over closer to him so I could be in his lap again.

But I was nervous and my hands were shaking.

"Aw...it's going to be okay".

Michael soothed me, and then after I was finally calmed down, he began to read what I had written in my diary.

It was about what happened recently, and how hard it was for me to cope.

And from what Michael could understand, my mental health needed some time to recover from the pain and suffering I endured all those years ago.

After another five minutes, Michael closed my diary and then he gave it back to me.

"I'm worried about you, sweetheart".

He said to me, and then I once again felt an urge to cry.

Michael watched as I clinged onto him for comfort, which was something that Paris used to do a lot when she was little.

I was already in my early twenties, and although Michael didn't want this to become a habit of mine, he knew that a person with a disability needed more special care.

As I tried to calm myself down, the king of pop noticed a picture that I had drawn in my coloring book with cats and kittens inside.

The word Cinnamon was written underneath the picture.

I wiped the tears away with the side of my hand.

"Is this a picture of a pet"?

Michael asked me.

I nodded my head, and then I quietly told him that I had a cat during the time of the car wreck, and that I even remembered where I lived before.

That gave Michael an idea.

He was going to take me to my old home so I could find my cat Cinnamon and maybe I could reunite with her.

The next day was a Saturday, and that meant Paris, Prince, and Bigi had the day off from doing online school.

We rode in the limo to my old house and when we got there, it was still the same as it was before.

The only difference was that nobody was living here.

I walked out to the large back yard and after a while, Michael and his kids called for me and said that they found a cat.

When I got to where they were, a scrawny tortishell cat was hiding underneath a a round outdoor table.

I looked at my picture and compared the marking on its fur.

Michael watched as I crouched down so that I was knee level with the feline.

The cat cautiously, but slowly walked over towards me, and then it sniffed my finger.

Then, it began to purr and rub the side of it's head against my hand.

It was indeed my long lost cat Cinnamon.

I held her in my arms and then gave her a kiss.

Michael and his children were happy to see me smiling again.