Diana's POV
I blinked, momentarily blinded by the bright headache that I'd awoken to, I looked around. I was lying on a taupe duvet. The room I was inside was barely a room, it was dark and I could hear the sound of dripping water.
I groped around, my hands touching cold wet wall. It felt like concrete, and that's the second I realized where I was. A basement.
I was lying on a folded blanket in a basement? What the hell?
"Hello?" I called, struggling to stand but I only fell back down because of a lancing pain in my leg, I must have been in the same position for a while.
I wanted to cry, remembering the bomb and the weirdness since then, I rolled myself into a ball, rocking back and forth.
"You should try to stay off that leg, you've been out for a while."
I hissed in surprise at the voice, it was deep, unfamiliar. I couldn't see anything. "What am I doing in your basement?" I asked.
The voice chuckled. "You are very smart, Diana. But you need rest, I can give you another sedative if you want."
"Sedative?" I felt more scared by the moment. "Who are you?"
I heard footsteps. And then I felt the hot breath on my hair. "Give me your arm, Diana. You need sleep."
"Please, don't put me to sleep. I need to talk to someone." I said, thinking of Michael--the aching to touch him at the moment.
A hand latched onto my arm and yanked me. "I'm sorry, Diana. You can't talk to your friends."
The piercing pain was cut off when my vision wobbled and darkened.

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tabloid junkie (Michael Jackson)
FanfictionDiana Cartwright helped Michael Jackson escape his world of fame, unaware that he is being harassed by a man in a mask. Sticking with him she is thrust in a world of pain, lies and romance.