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/N: Hey guys! As you may have noticed, I'm a bit slower to update, but I try my best to be as fast as I can! Also, I dedicate this chapter to a lil' peanut I'm very thankful for because it's her birthday today, so happy birthday again and thank you for encouraging me in everything I do 💕
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I opened my eyes one by one, slowly emerging from my deep sleep. My sleepy irises met the rays of sun that were interring the bedroom through the curtains, and it took me some long seconds to get them adjusted to the light. Instinctively, I turned around, hoping to see Michael lying there, but all if found was an empty spot. I frowned a bit and sat up. I scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be found. His clothes were still scattered on the floor, as usual, and his penny loafers were at their usual place as well.
I got out of bed, Michael's shirt being the only thing I was wearing, and went in the bathroom to see if he was in there, but he wasn't. I went downstairs to the other part of the room, but still, he was nowhere to be found. When I got out of the bedroom, the house was incredibly silent. No one was around. The only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the numerous clocks in there. Fear started to take over me, and my steps became hesitant. Everything seemed odd, and I had a bad feeling about all of this
"Michael?" I called, my voice echoing through the lobby of the giant house. No answer was given. "Michael?"
I waited for some long seconds, expecting to hear a voice saying something back but... Still no answer. I went on the other side of the house, in the living room, but it was as empty as the rest of the house. Gloria wasn't in there, nor Adrian. Nobody.
"What the fuck is happening," I asked under my breath, as I looked at my surroundings. I felt like I didn't recognize this place anymore, like something was missing.
It is when I arrived at the back of the living room that I noticed a silhouette on the terrace behind the house. I ran to it, relieved to see I wasn't alone anymore, and opened the double french door, which caught the attention of the person who turned around in a swift motion.
"Good morning, honey," my mother greeted me with that signature grin of hers.
"M—Mom? What are you doing here?" I asked, frowning.
"Just enjoying the fresh air, I love the smell of wet grass," she giggled, and I stayed confused. "Did you sleep well?"
"Y—Yeah," I answered, rubbing my arms to warm me up. "Where's Michael? And where are the workers?"
"Michael?" mom asked, frowning. "Honey, are you alright?" she asked, putting her hand on my cheek.
"Y—yes I'm fine, I just... I was scared I was all alone. I woke up and Michael wasn't next to me," I explained, and my mother gave me a sad yet confused look. "But there's something different, here."
