Michael Jackson, the legend and superstar, survived an awful car crash, but ended up in a wheelchair, paralyzed from waist down. His old life is now only a vague memory for the amazing musician and entertainer, and he needs help with a majority of h...
Author's note: Damn! You guys... You took me to the top again, out of 1,16 K stories! 💖💖💖 I'm forever grateful that you read my story, and I've got so many plans for Michael and Beanie. I hope you'll stick around for the journey.
Again: Thank you sooo much! 😘
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I woke up by Michael stirring in his sleep. At first it was only small twitches, and I didn't think much of it. But gradually he got more restless and uneased. And it escalated to the point that he tossed his head from side to side and moaned in agony. He trembled like a leaf and his hoarse moaning turned into words. He had a nightmare again.
"Nononono......."
I was a little reluctant to embrace him, because it had happened that he blindly threw an arm out and hit me. But the sorrow in his voice made it impossible not to. God, I hated to see him like this! It had been quite a while since last time he had a nightmare. But I was almost certain this one was triggered by the doctor's appointment earlier.
"Nononononono....."
"Shhh, baby. I'm here. Relax."
His face was contorted into a frown of pain and his eyelids altered between being squeezed shut and twitching in what looked like panic.
"Michael. Can you hear me? It's just a bad dream. Shhh... You're safe. I love you."
A loud gasp for air finally dragged him out of his prison of horrible memories, and he abruptly sat up, completely drenched in sweat. And he grabbed his head breathing so fast he was on the verge to hyperventilate. I knew it was too soon to touch him. I knew I had to wait. So I sat up on my knees as close as I could without touching him.
Even though the nightmare was the same that tortured him every time, I knew that the reason was me, pressuring him to do something he was afraid of. And despite that it was sort of good news, Michael didn't believe in it. Everything that involved that examination room was solely bad news for him. It was there his old life ended. It was there he had lost his hope. The accident was tragic enough by itself, but it was the constant lack of improvement in his physical condition and the endless row of disappointments that crushed him. And now it all came back as a tidal wave.
His raw sobbing made his body shake, and he was entirely consumed by anxiety. I knew there was nothing I could do to help him, other than to be with him and wait until it passed. He had done it for me, and now I was there for him.
I started stroking his back. And when he accepted that, I slowly snaked my arms around him and embraced him tightly. I felt his heart rage like a runaway train in his chest, but all I could do was to keep holding him and stroke his hair.
"I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "But thank you for being so brave for me."
