Wrong Body

2. ...

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. The lights being off, she didn't notice the different colors of the room, or her clothes. She flipped off the covers and went into what she thought was her bathroom, but switched on the light and seen a big walk in closet. Jackets with buckles, white and red shirts. The room was practically a mess, things seemed to not be organized, things thrown on top of others. Her eyes widened. This house certainly isn't mine. She thought. She thought maybe she had went over to someone's house, her friends were probably in the same place. She didn't want to panic, yet. She switched off the light and went into the bedroom's bathroom. There was another mess, but this bathroom was certainly bigger. When she looked at the mirror, there was tape over the part where you could see your own face. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She peeled it off. She stared for a couple of seconds, until she finally screamed. She fell on her butt on the tile floor. A bodyguard barged into the bedroom. 

"Mr.Jackson are you okay?!" he helped her up by her arm. 

This isn't real...It can't be...How? 

"I'm not...Mr..Jackson," she held her head. 

"Maybe you need a glass of water or something, you have rehearsal in a few hours," the guard walked out. 

She sat on the bed and looked at her hands, no..Michael Jackson's hands. His arms, his legs, his hair. She pinched herself, she told herself to wake up form this dream. She started hyperventilating. 

Meanwhile, Michael sat up from what he thought was his bed. The lights were on, and a woman was in the restroom. He tilted his head. He hadn't had anyone in his bathroom for many weeks now, he hated for others to see his mess. He slowly stood up, then noticed this room wasn't his. He peeked inside of the door, which was cracked, blasting his own music and steam coming out from the shower. 

"Oh hey sleepyhead! Get dressed loser or we'll be late for breakfast!" Sydney shouted and threw Layla's toothbrush at him. 

Huh? He caught it. He wiped away the steam from the mirror and didn't recognize this face as his own. He too thought this was a dream, but he turned to Sydney. 

"Um.. What's my name?" he asked. 

"Layla stop messing around, I know you didn't get so drunk you forgot your own name already!" she threw the curtain open, revealing her nude-ness. 

Michael quickly turned away. He went back into the bedroom and opened the closet, woman's clothes. His hands, his face, the hair. Not his. Okay... This isn't happening, just a sick dream it has to be..  he slapped himself, pinched, hit his head against a wall. Of course, it didn't work. One peek inside of his clothes, lady parts. At this point, he was beyond confused. Sydney grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the bathroom, forcing him to brush his, well Layla's teeth.