Ever Victorious (A Michael Jackson Tale)

Health Issues

Maria's P.O.V

I woke up sweating and disorientated for a few seconds until I realised where I was.

Michael had dropped me off at the end of Roxanne's road so neither she or anybody else would be suspicious. It was nice to see her again and after telling her what I could about my encounter with Craig she gladly offered me her spare room to stay in.

Today was a workday, and I was glad that I'd have something to focus on other than my thoughts.

Me and Michael had agreed to keep the events a secret, I didn't want him to be a victim of the press because of me and he didn't want me in danger of, well, I wasn't quite sure what.
I was worried about how he was doing, I hoped he hadn't got into too much trouble by leaving his crew just to help out some girl.

My insides tugged as I thought about him, I had never missed anyone so badly before, not even my own parents on that first night alone in my uncomfortable university dorm. It was almost unhealthy, but not in a bad way.

I sat on the edge of my temporary bed, thinking back to last night's dream.
First, all I could see was Michael's face. It had a really angry expression just like when he nearly stormed out after Craig the day before. But it wasn't Craig he was angry at, he was staring down a camera lense. I was at the end of this city street, running to pull him away but all of a sudden the city faded out to a vast desert, the street a dirt track and the camera lense a barrel of a gun. I couldn't get to him, the road never got closer to him, but he was close enough for him to hear me. But I couldn't shout, there was a hand clamped over my mouth. My fingers scratched at the huge hands but I never left a mark.
Suddenly whoever was holding me let go and I fell, as I did so I heard a gun shot and screamed. I fell to the ground and then through it, falling down and down and down and...

Michael's P.O.V

"Mr Jackson, I don't like to interfere with your thought process, but you've been pacing for over an hour"

I stopped dead in my tracks and sat on the proffered chair, and looked up to see the familiar attire of a medic who was standing near me in my hotel room.

Another request on behalf of my crew no doubt, they hadn't left me alone since the news broadcasted I might not return to my tour.
The uniform instantly reminded me of Maria, I couldn't help but worry about her still.

"Sir, how are you feeling today? I've been watching you the whole time and all I've gathered is that you seem extremely stressed."
The doctor smiled kindly at me, but I was in no mood to discuss my worries to this stranger. I said nothing.

"I take it that you have been consuming enough fluids since your symptoms started up two days ago. Dehydration is not to be taken lightly, especially for someone in your profession. I suggest you take these"
He handed over several different small, clinical packages where labels such as insomnia, dehydration and anxiety jumped out at me. The sight of them turned my stomach.

"Look, I know the deal okay? I get it, drink more, rest more, sure. But all of that doesn't solve the problem that I'm having. I can't physically sleep; I don't know if it's the tour or what, but I can't sleep, therefore I can't rest. I've lost my appetite and I can't drink the water here, I don't like people giving me my food and drink, I have to get it myself, but they won't let me go anywhere. I was gone a few hours yesterday and when I get back it was like I was abducted or something. I need to have a life okay? WHY IS IT SO IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO HAVE ONE?! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? I DON'T NEED YOU TO PREACH TO ME ABOUT THINGS I'VE ALREADY BEEN TOLD, I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT. I DON'T WANT NO MEDICATION, I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO RELY ON THIS STUFF, IT RUINS PEOPLE, DO YOU EVER SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING THE RIGHT THING BUT END UP KILLING PEOPLE?!"

I didn't mean to shout, but all this fuss was getting to me. The doctor glared at me in stunned silence. I handed him back the boxes and he took this as a cue to leave.

"I hope you start to feel better soon, Mr Jackson"

As soon as he'd left, I regretted what I had said. What was happening to me? Why was I so angry all the time? Why was I being paranoid about my food and my work and even Maria's safety? If I didn't get out of here soon, I was going to go insane.
I walked over to the telephone and dialled my manager's number.

"Hey Mike I was waiting for you to call. Are you all ready to go today? We have so much to get through, the team need reorganising, and the setback of the tour is causing some issues but don't worry I'm sure we can have everything worked out by the end of the day"

"Actually I was going to tell you that I'm taking the day off, doctor's orders. He says I need to rejuvenate and rest. I have an engagement elsewhere today anyway and I can't let them down. I'm sorry man, if I could, I would you know? I'll leave everything in your capable hands just for today and I'll pick up tomorrow, and get this show back on. It's all for L.O.V.E remember? I'll see you tomorrow, um late morning, I have some sleep to catch up on" I hung up before he could talk me round.

It was good to know I was free to do what I wanted for the day. I hadn't been that assertive since the start of my solo career. Maria must be having an impact on me. And I couldn't wait to see her beautiful eyes again, or hear her amazing laugh.
I grabbed my jacket and headed out with only one destination in mind: the hospital.

But this visit wasn't to take the doctor's advice, this time I was going to get my own kind of medication.

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