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...
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Everything around me seemed colorless as I walked aimlessly through the endless corridor. I had no idea where I was, and why I was in this building. There were doors on each side of the long hallway, so I assumed we were in a hotel. At some point, I heard voices echoing from behind me.They were calling Michael's name, over and over again. When I turned around, I saw a silhouette running in my direction, a feminine one. The closer it got to me, the easier it was to I identify the person. Confusion took over me as I came to realization that the person that was a foot away from where I was standing was... Me.
A frown formed on my face as I noticed how scared and panicked I was. My hair was all over the place, and from the bags under my eyes, I think it was obvious that I was lacking sleep for some reasons I ignored. I watched myself jog further in the long corridor, and followed close behind. When we made it to room one thirteen, I started knocking on the door like a mad woman.
"Michael!" I called, an obvious lump in my throat. "Michael you need to open the door, it's me!"
What's going on? I asked myself. I was just passive, a witness of what was happening just before my eyes. I couldn't be heard nor seen, I couldn't open the doors or touch anything around me, like I was some sort of ghost floating around. Everything seemed so real, yet I couldn't interact with anything.
Finally, the door my other self was tirelessly knocking on opened, and Elizabeth Taylor appeared in the door frame. I frowned some more as I started to get anxious about this whole situation. What was wrong with Michael? Why was Elizabeth Taylor here? Why was I so panicked?
"Liz, tell me he is okay," I almost begged the actress with tears in my eyes. The look on her face was alarming. I studied my demeanor closely, and noticed that my whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and stress. I was on the verge of losing it.
Without waiting for an answer, my other self barged into the room, almost bumping into Elizabeth in the process, and called for Michael again. I followed close behind to keep track on the story unfolding before my eyes. I was walking around the giant suite, hopelessly searching for Michael. It is when I arrived in the bedroom that I saw him lying on the bed with pills everywhere on his nightstand.
Michael, I whispered, covering my mouth in shock, as I watched myself run towards the bed.
"No, no, no," my panicked self said as I knelt by his bed and started stroking his hair back. "Michael, what happened?"
"H—Hale," he cried, and the sound of his weak voice broke my heart. "I—I need help," he voiced, but his words were a slur.
I walked closer to the both of us, and I felt a tear running down my cheek at the gut-wrenching sight before my eyes. Michael was very pale, and he had dark bags under his eyes, as if he didn't sleep for many days. He seemed exhausted and inconsolable.
