The Way She Wants It (Michael Jackson FanFiction)

..55..

"Why the fuck are you here?" I ask again, in a grittier tone. 

"I just told you," my Mother continues to smile as she opens her arms for a hug, "We miss you abs." 

"You're twenty eight years too late," I scoff, closing the door on them, but my Father stops it. 

"Listen, bitch," he growls and my brows shoot up, "We're saying we miss you. Be happy someone actually gives a fuck." 

"Oh yeah, this is really showing it," I scoff, walking away from the door as their cue to leave. They walk in, closing the door behind them, instead, "Did I say you could come in?!" I exclaim, pissed as ever. 

"No, but we're your parents," my Mother sighs, pushing sadness, "We just want to talk." 

"What do we have to talk about?!" I exclaim, "I moved out at fourteen for a reason!" 

"And we shouldn't have treated you that way," my Mother sighs. I don't believe a word coming out of her filthy mouth, "But we're here to make amends." 

"Whatever," I scoff, "Just because I have money, and you guys are out with nothing, doesn't mean you just come into my life and take what I have." 

"Of course we can," he scoffs making my eyes shoot towards him, "We fucking birthed you! You can't just give us nothing for that." 

"I can give you nothing because you gave me nothing," I spit, pointing my finger to the floor, "You gave me instability, eating disorders, abuse and nothing. You gave me nothing I ever fucking asked for. We all would've been better off if you had gotten an abortion!" 

My Mother gasps and fury flames in the eyes of my Father, as well as mine. They need to leave. I'm stressing too much. 

"You ungrateful bitch!" my Father screams, stepping closer to me, "We should be saying that, but we're not. You have all this money and fame! You should be happy you're alive!"

"First of all," I laugh, in complete hilarity, "You used to tell me multiple times that you should've had an abortion," I smirk and my Mother's face whitens and my Father grits his teeth, "And second of all, money does not buy happiness." 

"Please," he scoffs, "That's just shit rich people say."                                                                                           

"Oh, fuck off," I guffaw and his eyes widen as my Mother stays pale, "I've been poor. I am rich, with money. Not with happiness. I've experienced both. I used to think I could buy my happiness because you fuckers didn't give me any for free, but as soon as I got a massive gain in my bank account I found otherwise." I speak intellectually to make them feel small. 

"We gave you all that we had," my Mother fakes a sniffle with dry eyes. 

"Don't give me that shit," I smirk, walking around the island to get a glass of water, "You should've told asshole over here to put aside the coke and alcohol and give some at the money to me so I could eat without stealing." 

"I had an addiction." he grits coldly, an even darker filter covering his eyes. 

"Yeah, so do other people," I smirk, "But some how the government never caught on to your ass and let you keep me." 

"Abs," my Mother sniffles loudly and I roll my eyes at the lack of wetness in hers. 

"Don't give me that shit," I scoff and her dry eyes widen, "I can't even see a shine in your eye. Stop sucking up air through your nose and let it go. I know you don't give a shit." 

My Mothers eyes turn colder than my Father's and she sighs before starting to chuckle, not letting it reach her eyes. 

"Fine," she smiles evily and my brows furrow at how easily she gave up the act, "Babe, do what you came to do." she says over her shoulder to her husband, keeping her eyes on me. 

"You're not going to do shit to me!" I yell in anger as my Father approaches me with a snarl. 

"We'll see about that, bitch." 

*

Michael's POV

"Fuck," I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I sit on a barstool with my back against the bar. 

I watch as my dancers dance with each other, and some of the other crew members are out there too, much more uncoordinated. 

"Hey, Michael," Brittany, one of my dancers, smiles as she takes a seat beside me, "Why aren't you out there dancing with everyone? Afraid you'll show us up?" she giggles annoyingly and I sigh, looking down at the water in my hands. 

"Yeah, that's it," I say sarcastically with a chuckle and she continues to laugh, "No, I just... I have a lot on my mind." I murmur and she pouts a bit making my brows furrow. 

"You should come have fun with us," she says, placing her hand on my shoulder, "It'll help take your mind off of things." 

I look out to the floor of the ballroom that we've rented in the hotel, and wish Abby was here with me. Then I wouldn't have my mind on things. 

I just want to be with my babies. That's all I want. 

"No, that's okay," I sigh, "It won't take my mind off of things. Nothing will." 

Brittany runs a finger along her collar bone before placing her hand over mind, and I miss the seduction she's playing at. 

"Well..." she begins and I look up to her, confused, "I think I know what I could do to help." 

*

Abby's POV

"Fuck!" I grit as my Father shoves my back against the counter and rips my cell out of my hand. He smashes it on the floor and the number that was calling security has obviously been canceled by the destruction. 

"You ruined our lives, you bitch," he grits, slapping me across the face and my mouth hangs open in pain as I squeeze my eyes tight, "So this is what you get in return. Just a little bit of the pain that we've had to go through, dealing with your ass." 

Another slap. 

He throws my to the ground and I fall flat on my face.... and my stomach. I look over to see my Mother guarding the door and I'm guessing it's to protect against any security that is wondering why I called and hung up so quickly. 

"You fucker!" I grit and he chuckles evilly, flipping me over to kneel on my chest as my lower stomach starts to ache and my lungs close up. 

"Feel that?" he smirks, slapping me across the face and my ears start to ring, "That's just a taste of what we went through with your ass around." 

He slaps me again, keeping his knee on my chest. 

Where's Michael?

My chest closes up and I realize I've stopped breathing. 

My eyes get heavy as his fist connects with his jaw. 

I gasp for air as he removes his knee from my chest and I roll over to see his feet in front of my eyes as I lay on my side. 

"That's what you get bitch," I hear him mumble as the perimeter of my sight closes in and he steps on my forearm that is lying out on the ground, and puts all his weight onto it.

There's a snapping sound. 

Then there's panic from my Mother.

He says something else to me, then to her, then to me again. 

I feel five, sharp bashes against my stomach and then there is sticky, hot liquid between my legs before his feet run past my eyes and everything around me blackens.