Stitching these Wounds (Michael Jackson)

5. Confliction

[Michael]

•••

May 9th, 1976

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

"I...I can't," Imani tells me, her voice trembling.

"You can't?" I nearly laugh. "Imani, we've known each other for nearly ten years, and you can't tell me?" She watches as the twinkle in my usual vibrant gaze dulls down.

Imani was silent, and that was my answer.

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

•••

"Michael, baby." I suddenly heard Mother's soft voice wake me up from my slumber. She sat down at the edge of my bed, rubbing my back gently.

I groaned many times before opening my eyes fully, the sunlight from my window pouring into my gaze. "That's odd," I said, sitting up slightly. "My alarm never went off." I then allowed my gaze to shift from Mother to my clock, and panic arose in me as I saw the time. "Oh, God," I muttered, swinging my legs off of my bed and standing up quickly. "I'm going to be late for work!"

"Don't worry about that, dear," Mother assured me warmly, standing up from my bed to take my hands and sit me back down. "I've already called and told your boss that you won't be making it into work today." She used both of her hands to tightly grasp one of mine. "I see how much you've worked to help support our family, and I thought you deserved a day off."

My heart softened at her act of generosity. "Wow," I breathed. "Thank you, Mother. That means a lot."

Mother gave me a bright smile. "No, thank you!" she insisted, leaning forward to kiss my cheek softly. "Your contribution to this family has helped us out so much."

"I'm just glad that I could be a good asset," I told her honestly, biting back another smile.

She pitched my cheek slightly. "Alright, so how about you get all dressed and meet me in the kitchen," Mother suggested, a never-ending smile glued to her lips. "I've made the two of us a nice Sunday breakfast."

"The two of us?" I echoed, raising a confused brow. "Where are the others?"

"They're out with your father," Mother informed me. "So, it'll just be you and I."

I smiled at that, knowing that Mother and I would get some well-spent quality time together. "Sounds like a plan," I agreed.

With that, Mother stepped out of my room, allowing me to complete my necessary tasks for the day. As I was getting ready, I couldn't help but reflect on the dream I'd had. I grimaced as I remembered the events of what'd occurred. It broke my heart repeatedly to know that the amount of trust I thought Imani had for me wasn't as much as I thought.

I soon finished, attempting to push my dark thoughts away as I exited my room and walked down the hallway until I reached the kitchen. There, awaited Mother as she finished preparing our meal. I viewed our plates' contents and saw that she'd made all of my favorite breakfast foods, which filled my heart immensely.

"Oh, Mother," I breathed, heading to my usual spot at the table. I pulled out my chair quickly before sitting down. "You didn't have to do all of this just for me."

She smiled as she placed down a beverage for me. "Well, of course I did!" Mother insisted softly. "Michael, even if you don't see it, you do a lot for this family. I just hope that this is enough to say thank you."

I beamed. "It is, Mother," I told her, unable to hide the blush that was forming on my cheeks. "Just your approval is plenty."

Mother gave me a wink before we proceeded to enjoy our meal. We then began talking amongst each other, which made me feel more safe and secure as the moments went on. "So, dear, how's Imani?" she questioned with genuine curiosity.

My heart sunk at her words. "She's fine," I answered quickly, my gaze piercing into my plate.

I could feel Mother's own gaze staring hard at me. "Dear, I've been your mother for a long time, and I've been on this Earth for an even longer time, so I'm fully aware of when something's wrong." She then picked up my head from across the table, caressing my cheek.

I swallowed hard, taking a sigh of defeat. "Okay, fine," I finally spoke. "We got in a fight."

"Oh, no." Mother frowned sadly. "What happened, my love?" she asked softly.

"She's keeping something from me," I told her lowly. "She couldn't even tell me what was wrong with her when I saw her yesterday."

"Oh, Michael..." Mother trailed off, placing her hand over mine. "I know that this must be hard for you, but you have to trust that she'll tell you what's wrong when the time's right for her."

I sighed deeply, unable to keep a steady eye contact with Mother. "It's just hard seeing her like that," I explained. "I want her to be able to trust me."

"And believe me, dear, she does," Mother assured me, using her thumb to rub the back of my hand softly. "You never know what things could be troubling her that she just isn't ready to talk about yet." She paused briefly, recollecting her thoughts. "Her father just passed away not too long ago." That still doesn't explain her cuts and bruises.

I finally looked up to see Mother's concerned gaze. "You're right," I muttered quietly, trying my hardest to shove my previous thoughts away. "I just gotta give it time, don't I?" Still, I felt a strong sense of doubt within me.

Mother shined proud smile at me. "There you go!" she cheered happily. "Just remember that she's still the same girl you met in first gra—" Suddenly, the doorbell sounded, and it alerted both Mother and I.

I started to stand up, but before I could, Mother signaled for me to sit back down. "Don't worry about it, dear. I'll get it."

I nodded, watching as Mother made her way to the front door to reveal who was on the other side. I began to stand up, heading to the sink with my plate in hand to clean it off. When Mother walked back towards me with the familiar face following close behind, my heart dropped.

Mother moved to the side a bit, completely revealing who it was. "Hi, Michael," the familiar voice said, her voice soft and feminine.

"Imani, what are you doing here?"

•••

And I oop! Sorry for the cliffhanger and the shortness of this chapter, you guys, but you'll find out what happens soon enough! Also, before I forget, happy thirty-seven years of Thriller! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I love you all so much, and as always, thank you for reading!