Stitching these Wounds (Michael Jackson)

4. Untold

[Imani]

•••

May 8th, 1976

No matter how many times I wished to stop my protests, I couldn't help but to keep shouting them at the top of my lungs. I could see the sadness written all over Michael's expression from the frown that hung on his lips as he continued trying to comfort me from my obvious distressed state. But, with each step he took, the further away I moved from him.

After what'd just occurred moments before Felix headed off for his night shift left me scarred for what had to have been at least the hundredth time. His forceful commands, my resistance protests, the pain. Anxiety had already started consuming my entire being as the scene of my living hell replayed itself, and my breaths soon became short gasps.

"Imani," Michael started once again, concern being the strongest thing in his tone. "Please talk to me." He sighed heavily, and I could tell how badly my anxious behavior was affecting him. "I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Before I could swallow down the rest of my stresses in order to give my response, Michael's face quickly started morphing into Felix's, as a result of where my thoughts were headed. His soft, brown gaze exchanged with a cruel, green one. His Afro being replaced with a hair type that resembled Felix's exactly. Instant horror made its way upon my face as my biggest fear stood before me in the form I'd never want to see. "N-No," I managed to stutter. "This isn't r-real." I blinked many times in my attempt to restore my vision to what I knew was reality, but it was no use, for I continued seeing what my imagination painted.

Michael furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, his own anxiety starting to build up. He walked over to take a seat on my bed, despite the large amount of space I'd left between us. "Imani, listen—"

"No!" I shouted as I found myself struggling to breathe even more. Felix's features continued to replace Michael's, which kept the strong sense of fear I was feeling in place for many more moments. "You're not going to h-hurt me a-again. I won't let y-you."

"Hurt you?" Michael murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I would never, ever hurt you." He scooted closer to me, my pulse quickening rapidly with each passing second. Finally, he closed the space between us by getting a hold of my wrists to ensure that I wouldn't try anything. "Look at me," he commanded softly, searching for my gaze for a moment.

"No—" I tried to say.

"Look at me, Imani!" Michael snapped, finally being fed up with his lack of knowledge about my anxious behavior. His tone caused me to jump slightly, and he soon noticed this before taking a deep breath to restrain himself from losing his cool once again. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly, releasing one of my wrists to caress my cheek. His gentle nature caused all of Felix's harsh features to slowly drift away and restore Michael's soft ones.

In that moment, reality set in; hard. My gaze cast down to my shaky hands that were fumbling with each other as my wrists were still in Michael's hold. I looked into his concerned, brown eyes, which I was grateful had been restored to their proper form. "Michael?" I whispered, my breath shaky. "It's really you?"

He released my wrists to open his arms, signaling for me to embrace him. "Yes," Michael confirmed. I could hear the confusion in his tone as I fell into his tender care, releasing all of my built-up sobs right then and there. "No one's going to hurt you, I promise."

As each of Michael's comforting words fell from his lips, I couldn't help but release more of my dreadful emotions. My thoughts ran wild as I continued burying my face in Michael's chest, savoring his comforting scent. I knew that I'd eventually have to come to a dreadful conclusion; explaining what'd just happened, and thinking about the result of that caused more tears to stream quickly down my face.

"Hey, Mani," Michael started softly. "What just happened?" he finally asked. "In all of the time I've known you, I've never—" before he let himself continue, he noticed the scar on my arm that was sticking out of the blanket that was wrapped around me. He sat me up off of him to face me fully. "Wait, what's this?" I remained silent for a moment, swallowing hard.

"It's nothing," I insisted, panic becoming present in how I was acting. "I don't even see what you're talking about."

"Oh, yeah?" Michael challenged me, catching me off guard by taking off the blanket and revealing a few more of my bruises. "Then, what are all of these?"

I internally cursed myself out, realizing that I wasn't wearing any make-up to cover up my previous scars and cuts, as I always had. I stayed frozen for many more moments as I contemplated my response multiple times in my head. "They're nothing, Michael!" I snapped. "I just bumped into somethi—"

"No!" Michael cut me off, his tone harsh in his deep frustration. "Don't try that shit with me, Imani. I know you're lying." He sighed deeply. "Now, do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

"I...I can't," I told him, my voice trembling.

"You can't?" Michael nearly laughed. "Imani, we've known each other for nearly ten years, and you can't tell me?" I watched as the twinkle in his usual vibrant gaze dulled down.

I was silent, and that was Michael's answer.

He frowned harshly. "Well, until you decide to tell me what's going on, there's no use of me being here, now is there?" Michael stood up from his place on my bed, opening my bedroom door swiftly and heading towards the main exit of my house.

"Michael, wait!" I called out, rushing off of my bed and towards his direction to catch up with him. When I reached him, I used his shoulders to spin him around, seeing the genuine hurt on his face, which practically shattered my heart. "Please..."

He attempted to restrain himself from my grasp, but I wouldn't allow him to do so. "I just need some time to think," Michael told me, shaking his head as he closed his eyes tightly. "I'll see you later, okay?" The best response I could give him was a nod as my eyes welled up with tears once again. With that, he turned away to walk out of the house with his head hung low.

This time, my tears were those of sadness and anger as I stomped back to my room. I slammed my door hard before collapsing onto my bed and expressing my emotions for the second time that day.

I then sat up, letting out more of the sobs I'd suppressed. I looked upwards, closing my eyes and sighing. "Why?" I questioned the Lord up above. "Why me?"

I let out more frustrated tears into my pillow, trying to keep myself as quiet as possible in case my mother arrived back home. My day went from worse to worst, and I felt a strong sense of self-hatred within myself as I laid in my bed, wallowing in my own misery. My heart raced a mile a minute as my thoughts spiraled out of control. I kept my eyes closed, thinking of my father's face as I did so. I miss you so much, I thought to myself. Please don't let me walk through all of this alone.

•••

I'm so sorry for the sadness of this chapter. I hope you guys didn't suffer too much! But, nevertheless, I hope you all enjoyed it. I love you all so much, and as always, thank you for reading.