Mary in Time {Michael Jackson Fan Fiction (maybe...??)}

Mary in Time - Part 2

Mary in Time - Part 2

Immediately fear sparks through him. He's caught. She holds his arm in a vice grip. For a shocked moment he stares at the fingers snaked around his skin. Then he looks up at her.

"Take my wrist," she says. "You need to hold on tight!"

Unhappy, he obeys. Her wrist is slender and feels fragile. He closes his finger around it.

"You need to hold on tight!" she sounds more determined this time. "Like a mountain climber!"

Taking a deep breath, he closes his hand tighter around her wrist.

"Now close your eyes."

That is against the rules. He can't handle the situation if he can't see. Unease knots in his stomach. He wonders how long 20 minutes can be. When will someone come for him?

"Michael, please close your eyes. Don't be afraid."

But he is. His pulse rate is going up. He's starting to sweat. All muscles clenched, he closes his eyes.

"Alright," her voice is gentle, but it fails utterly to soothe him. "Try not to resist."

She begins to pull on his arm, trying to pull him towards her. When his arm is stretched to full length, he leans back slightly putting his strength against it. He's standing about two feet away from her and is not game for coming one step closer.

Suddenly she wrenches at his arm with such force that he loses his footing. Pain, burning hot, shoots through his shoulder. Thrown off balance and unable to compensate, he finds himself falling forward. His right arm flies up trying to find some hold on the body he's about to crash into. His eyes flicker open.

She's still standing about two feet away from him, her left hand, still lightly holding the paper he has signed the moment ago, raised to meet his helplessly groping fingers and steady him.

The sensation of falling passes immediately and is replaced by a sickening dizziness. The pain in his shoulder is so strong, she must have dislocated the joint. It leaves him gasping, water rising in his eyes. His knees are weak. Appalled as he is by her, he welcomes the supporting hand.

"It didn't work very well," he hears her say through the cloud of pain that muffles his earns. "You were resisting too much."

As the dizziness passes as well, he's left with the throbbing ache in his shoulder. In shock he withdraws both his hands from her and takes a step back, clenching and massaging the burning joint. What the hell is she doing? Anger is welling up in him. This is not a joke anymore. She has injured him.

But as quickly as it has come, the anger is wiped away by despair.

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Michael Jackson can't manage to speak. His jaw is rigid. When he doesn't answer, she reaches out for his shoulder. Without thinking he takes another step back. She lets her hand sink.

"It will get better soon!" her voice is pleading again.

But he's not to be pleaded with. He can't bear it anymore. He needs to get out.

Blinking the water from his eyes, he looks around the room. There is a bouquet of dark red roses standing on a sideboard. He hasn't noticed it before, but now the flowers give him something to focus on. Slowly and casually he walks towards it, creating some distance to her.

As soon as he has turned his back on her, his face falls and his eyes close briefly with exhaustion. He can feel her gaze drilling into his back. He keeps his movements steady. Not being able to see her to anticipate what she might be doing next, doesn't help to release his tension. His ears are pricked and alert to any audible movement she might be making. But there is none.