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.
YOU ARE READING
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.
