tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

January 10ᵗʰ ─ 11:00 ᵖᵐ

Michael turned at the tread of my footsteps coming from the bathroom, I was warmly dressed in the tunic and jeans. My hair was braided into two pigtails, something I'd come up with after a series of messing with my hair. 

 I shifted nervously under his innocent stare. 

Michael had been perched on the bed one of his feet tucked under himself, the other dangling over the side of the bed. He grabbed the remote and looked toward me. "Maybe we should see what's happening right now."

He clicked on the remote. The tv turned on.

Truthfully, I was scared of the news now.

Reluctantly, I sat beside him on the other side of the bed, the same way he was sitting and stared up at the television. 

"Welcome back to 24HOUR News, I'm your host, James Bartholomew. Now back to the Michael Jackson case." James took a breath, that one breath all News Anchors took before they dropped the news on you.

 I held my breath before he spoke. 

 "Michael Jackson's fans and supporters create a protest outside of 24HOUR News Studios,"--James laughs a bit-- "Claiming that Diana Cartwright should be hunted and put in prison, they're also wearing Anti-Diana jackets. Take a look."

The screen switches to crouds of people holding up borders and signs. 

I tensed, there was anger, sadness and a whole lot of hate. I blinked as my eyes ran over one of their posters: WHEN WILL YOU BRING MICHAEL BACK TO US?! 

Another: DIRTY DIANA, NO!

I take a silent, dreadful moment to read the back of their jackets: PSYCHOPATHIC DEVOTEE, LET MICHAEL GO! There's my graduation picture in the middle, a prohibition sign in red on my face.

Michael made a sound with his mouth. "Don't look at that." His voice hard and stern as he switches off the television. It's like he doesn't know what to say, and that sucked because I was hoping he'd say something before I did. 

I shake my head. "Why are they doing this?" My voice wavered as I tried to keep that strong tone. 

"They're just..." I see that look in his eyes as he searched his mind and heart for an answer. "Their hearts are in the right place, they're just going about it the wrong way." 

 I knew he'd find some way to defend his fans. 

 Before I could stop it, one stupid tear decided to fall freely from my filled eyes. I watched him stand up, and circle the bed until he was sitting in front of me on it. 

 "You're strong, Diana." He cupped my face in his scarred hands, his thumb making circular movements on my cheek, slowly wiping my tears away but they just kept falling. 

 "But...you don't even know me." I held the stare, as we gazed into each other's eyes. Pain, and experience in his. 

 A faint smile slipped on his lips for a second. "I feel like I do, and I know you're in a lot of pain right now but...this is just how things work." 

 I blinked, my lashes brushing against his thumb. 

"As wrong as it is..." He pursed his lips. "They're just waiting for the next break." 

"How long do you think that'll take?" 

His hands dropped away from me. "I'm not sure. But there has to be some way I can get you back to your normal life, there is always a way." 

 I don't know why, or what made me do it, but I reached out and snaked my arms around his neck. I rested my head against his shoulder. 

 I have no answer as to why he calms me so much. 

"Thank you." I whispered, closing my eyes.