Escaping The Illuminati [COMPLETED]

Part 5 [FINAL]

Everything spiraled downwards so fast. I should have seen it coming. Almost right after the BAD tour, things started changing. It seemed like it was just getting worst. All these accusations came up, I can barely go half a day without taking some kind of medication, and I recently had the worst interview with a journalist named Martin Bashir that made me look like an absolute monster and freak. The vitiligo has gotten to a point where I look completely white and people joke and make rumors about it saying I didn’t want to be black; I hated my skin color because of it. It was partly true because I didn’t want to be reminded of Joseph, but I wouldn’t go through lengths like this. I have no control over the disease and I couldn’t do anything but let it happen.

I stared blankly at the judge with my sunglasses as he spoke. I didn’t even know about what, I couldn’t focus. All these things going on have made the amount of sleep I get less and I’ve lost a lot of weight and it’s made me have this skeleton like appearance, but I didn’t mind. My eyes wandered over to the boy who was on the other podium, fidgeting nervously. A bunch of emotions arose inside of me. His name was Jordan Chandler, a cancer survivor. He was someone I had let into my heart and home, and he betrayed me like this. He says I molested him and the words he used to describe how I supposedly “touched him” were just gruesome and couldn’t be believable that words like this have come out of a child’s mouth.

I sighed and looked down. There was barely anything to understand now. Outside, when I was coming in and I knew they’d be there when I left, there were hundreds- thousands of people supporting me. Well, some of them were. Most were holding up signs that showed they supported and loved me, but there were others that believed the tabloids and called me a child molester and “Wako Jacko”. It hurt my heart, but my emotions were balanced out with the love my fans were sending.

I know they liked this. They loved it. They probably constructed this evil plot themselves, and they were laughing at me right now. I didn’t like this, I didn’t like all of this negative attention and feedback.

I want to escape.

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// June 25, 2009 //

Today seemed to be a good day. I’ve taken a break from the ‘This Is It’ rehearsals. I wasn’t worried about them because they hadn’t bothered me for a long time, for once in my life—something I haven’t experienced in a long time… I felt safe.

Paris, Prince, and Blanket played around with their toys on the floor, mysteriously calm today. “Can I play with you guys?” I asked as I sat next to them. They looked to me and smiled with a nod. They had Legos and were trying to build a tall tower, but it kept falling. “How about we make a base first for it?” I suggested. “What’s a base?” Blanket asked.

“It’s just like the bottom of a structure or building like—I’ll show you.” Moving some of the Legos to myself, I started to make a square bottom for them to build upon. When I was finished I pushed it back to them. “See? Now you can build on top of it.”

“Thanks daddy!” they said with a smile as they started to build again. “No prob—” just then they doorbell rang. I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow, curious about whom it was. Then I remembered I had invited my personal doctor over, Conrad Murray. I’ve been having serious trouble sleeping and resting, and I needed help. I needed my milk. One of the maids started to go towards the door and I beat her to it. She gave me an odd look and I smiled shyly. “Sorry, I have to take this. This is personal.” She gave me another odd look before nodding and walking away.