January 20ᵗʰ ─ 8:30 ᵃᵐ

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When my eyes open, I am lying in a hospital bed. The walls are white, everything is white. Everything. Michael is sitting at the edge of my bed, brushing his hand along my cheek. "Michael." I choke out with a smile.

"Annie," he whispers, leaning forward to peck my lips. "You're alright."

There's something wrong here.

His hair, it's long, curly and shiny.

He'd cut it only a few days ago.

This isn't real.

"Is this a dream?" I asked, my lids suddenly feeling heavy.

Michael nodded, smiling at me. "Yes, a convincing one." He kissed the top of my head and patted my hair. "Wake up, Diana. Come back to me."

I want to.

So badly.

But I can't move, it's like my arms are strapped to the hospital bed as he walks away. "MICHAEL!" I shout, tears flooding my eyes.

tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)Where stories live. Discover now