Have you ever wondered what would Michael Jackson's life look like if some events didn't happen to him? If he had someone he trusted by his side through everything? Someone that had the power to save him from his tormented life?
Hayley "Brit" Thame...
A week has gone by since I woke up from my coma, and now it's time for me to get back to work. I couldn't be happier about it, to be honest. This whole week should have been restful for me, but it was the opposite: it was stressful, and I lacked sleep a lot. Al stayed over the loft during the entire week, and it was amazing to have her over. The place was much warmer since she settled there. I think she's somehow afraid to go back to her place though, because of Adam. But we'll work on that.
Today, as most of the time, I woke up before the alarm goes off with Michael's face in mind. It's like I can't get him out of my head, and it is pressuring me. It is a daily reminder that he is in danger, and that I have to help him, but I don't know how. It was the main reason that caused my lack of sleep. I spent sleepless nights trying to figure a plan out, but nothing came to my mind, so I just decided to let it go for a while, and let my brain rest.
Al doesn't stop, though. She did some researches about Frank DiLeo's location, and she even thought about going to see him and have a talk with him about Michael. But I think it's insane. It would just increase the complete insanity of this entire situation by making me look like some crazy fan. I don't need that. I need to be taken seriously, and do things the most civilized way possible.
I looked down at my watch, and realized it was almost time to go. I put my diary and pen away, drank the rest of my cup of coffee quickly, and walked out the door, careful to be as quiet as possible not to disturb Alice's sleep. She still had a day off, and would go back to work one day after me. I didn't know if she would come back to her place before returning back to work, but I selfishly hoped she didn't.
When I arrived at the hospital, I passed some of my co-workers who asked me about my health and if I was ready to go back to work. I obviously told them I was, because it was the truth. I was able to work, and it's all that mattered. I was just excited to see the kids again.
When I stepped in the locker room to change my clothes, all eyes turned towards me but not a word came out of the mouth of my colleagues. They just stood there, looking out of the corner of their eye, and I just pretended not to see them. I know they were judging me. It was their thing, judging people. But a part of me understood, though. I understood it might seem weird for me to come back to work after I was in a coma for nearly a week.
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Hopefully, Carl came to my rescue and entered the women's locker room. He didn't even acknowledge the nurses who were changing all around him, probably because he already saw them naked at some point.
"I've heard you were here," Carl gently said, as I closed the door of my locker once I was changed. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright," I simply said, putting my white smock on. "How are you?"
