tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)

March 4ᵗʰ ─ 3:43 ᵃᵐ

Diana Cartwright was molested? Her stepfather was sick enough to do something like that? Was this the cause of her mental illness?

It made me sick. Everyone asking questions about my life. It's none of their damn business. I rolled over in bed trying to fall asleep, find peace in my dreams but sleep wouldn't come.

It was so hot in this room, and it couldn't help that there was no air-conditioner either. I sighed, sitting up on the bed, trying to see through the darkness.

It was out. My little dirty secret. Everyone knows, Janet knows...Michael knows. He must think I'm disgusting, he must believe that I let my stepdad do that to me for years without telling anyone.

I feel disgusting.

I rubbed my arms, switching on the bedside lamp and reaching over for my cell phone. I dialed Michael's number.

The phone picked up, but it wasn't Michael.

"Hello, Diana? It's Janet, Michael left his phone on his bed."

I sighed of relief that it was her. "What do mean he left it? Where is he?" I asked, clutching the cell phone to my ear.

"He's in the shower, but Diana." I heard something in her voice, "he's worried about you. We watched the news, I know what happened."

Sighing, I picked up a Aplon business card and began bending it over my hands, I needed to be occupied with something. "I suspected that." I whispered softly, though I didn't know why. "Janet, I called because I need to talk, to all three of you."

"Three? Oh, Jermaine, of course." Janet sighed. "Where? I didn't think medical institutions let you visit people this early."

"I'm not at Bellevue anymore." I said softly.

"Really?" I heard relief in her voice. "H-how?"

"Because there's proof I was in the hospital at the same time Michael was being attacked. Look, just-just meet me at the Vanic Gas Station." I said.

It's time the Jackson's knew the truth.