Forgiven Not Forgotten ( A Michael Jackson Fanfic )

Nothing to Hide.

Michael's hands keep going lower and lower.

Oh my god, what is he doing?

The crowd gets completely silent. Oh yeah, by the way, this is being broadcast live across the nation, and maybe the whole world! I have to tell him something, anything, that will make him stop before something really bad happens.

"Michael, what're you doing? " I ask him.

He remains silent.

His hands are now lingering on the hem of my shirt.

"Michael?" I ask.

Still, he's silent. He's clearly debating on wheather or not he should do this.

He mutters something that sounds like 'yes, this will prove it.'

I'm about to ask what this could possibly prove, when, all of a sudden, my shirt is yanked off.

OH MY GOD.

Michael Jackson just pulled my shirt off, in front of the world. I'm frozen, standing here, shocked, untill I realize that here I am, with my bare chest completly showing, in front of EVERYONE. Everyone I've ever known, everyone I've ever loved, and millions of strangers.

As soon as everything sinks in, I quickly turn around to grab my shirt from the floor.

When I turn around, I see a grinning Michael Jackson staring at my chest smugly.

He looks strangely satisfied with himself.

I look at the ground and realize that my shirt is by his feet.

Tears well up in my eyes as I walk over to him.

When I get to him, I bend down and grab my shirt off the ground and quickly put it back on, still facing Michael.

I would rather him see me than everyone else on the planet!

After I put my shirt back on, my mind starts to race with questions.

Why would he do this to me? I just told him that I trusted him, didn't I? And what would this possibly prove?

Tears start streaming down my face as I stand here, watching him.

The crowd is still completly silent.

My tears turn into sobs and I decide to ask him the most important question on my mind.

"Why?" I whisper to him through my sobs.

A look of horror comes to his face as he seems to just now realize what he's done.

He starts to cry as he tries to answer my question.

" I - I -" He tries to answer, but the door of the auditorium bursts open and cuts him off.

About ten police officers come into the room and run towards the stage where Michael and I stand.

" FREEZE AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK! "

One of them yells as he runs towards Michael with a gun trained on his forehead.

Michael falls to his knees sobbing as he keeps trying to apoligize to me.

"S-s-sorry!" he chokes. He can barely breathe. Even after what he did to me, I feel really bad for him.

" Michael, calm down, its ok!." I say, even though I don't mean it.

"No! " he whispers as the police grab him up and force his arms behind his back.

I watch in silent horror as they drag him out the door and shove him into the back of a police van.