tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

december 22ᶰᵈ ─ 12:40 ᵖᵐ

"Your name?"

"Diana Cartwright."

"And you're here to see Mr. Jackson?"

"Yes, I'm applying for the nursing position."

I crawled out of bed, thinking of the first time I entered the Neverland Ranch, and grabbed my diary. I'd jotted down everything crazy that happened since then.

Dear Diary,

It's January 2001, and this is my first journal.

YAY! Right?

My name is Diana Wesley Cartwright and I'm 12 years old.

My mother kept reminding me how all Cartwright women kept journals and I finally gave in. It turns out to be a bit fun, though.

My father he...moved out when I was 11.

I flipped the page multiple times, desperate for some reason.

Dear Diary,

It's December 2004.

I hate him. I hate my stepfather so much I don't even feel like writing, but you're the only one I can turn to. The only one who helps me, THE ONLY ONE I CAN TRUST!

A part of me knew, after the horrifying stories of Richard Tinsel, that letting him into my life would be chaotic. And it has been. He's hit my Mother, he's cheated on her, he's hit me and little Gloria and she's only 7 years old!!

He...told me not to tell anyone. And I listened, he told me not to tell Mom, or Granny, even Gloria.

But he's a sick bastard and I'm telling YOU, Diary. Okay?

My Stepdad he's ... kissed me, and he's tried to touch me. I remember waking up and finding him lying behind me. And he was hard behind the zipper, and he was moving against me and I cried that night.

I was so scared. Afraid, and so, so terrified.

I don't know how long it went on, but I began to have reactions to his presence. I fainted sometimes, I even regurgitated. Sometimes I would get so riled, and then so tired.

I've never told Mom, I've never told Granny. I've never told Gloria

But every Christmas, I go home to Virginia and I have to see him. But thankfully, I avoid him and he avoids me. Whenever Mom would try and get us to talk I'd find some excuse.

To tell you the truth, I sob on my way to Virginia.

I always cry and I feel sick to my stomach.

I'd never led a normal life and I never will.

I blink, not letting any tears out of my eyes. And then skip a whole stack of pages.

Dear Diary,

It's October 22nd 2013

I met Michael Jackson today! Yoohoo! Omg, I'm still excited.

He had a cold, and I was sent up to check on him.

Sadly, we didn't exchange names. He didn't ask for mine.

I smiled slightly, leaning back on the bed and flipping the page.

Dear Diary,

It's October 24th 2013

I'm so afraid. My heart is beating so damn fast.

As Michael and I rode away from the Neverland Ranch I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes.

I swear, I was dying to ask stubbornly: "Well, if you're sad about it, why'd you leave?" But I never did. I kept my big mouth shut.

I was still wondering, out of all the maids, bodyguards and family members of his. Why me? Why the nurse? Why'd he ask me to go through with his escape plan?

Yeah, I don't think I'll ever know.

Well there's a chance, since we're now in the Cartwright Family Secondary home.

I'm tired, and it's dark and cold, so bye Diary. For now.