Perspective (MJ)

His Undying Love

His Undying Love

He's gasping for the smallest ounce of relieving air that he desires to be given to him, his breaths croaking in the worst type of affliction and narrowing down to hiccups of a strained throat. His protruding eyes are scarlet with desperate alarm, reinforcing the merciful state he's currently in; he can't withstand the effects and possible upcoming consequences of suffocation. He's pleading and pleading for me to release my hands.

But I will not.

"Get off him! What's wrong with you? Nadia!!" a high pitched voice, who I instantly identify as Latoya, screams at me, attempting, endeavouring to pull me off. This time around, I'm no longer weak. My anger has now transferred and contributed to increasing strength. It's a strong feeling and somehow, I haven't even thought of removing my hands.

He needs to feel the pain. He needs to know how it feels. His words are utterly brutal. I know that it should be emotionally, it's more of a lesson and is reasonable, but I just could not take it. Physicality ruled over emotionality.

Hands are grabbing all over me, providing a sense of immediate discomfort, trying to remove me away. I'm shocked that they can't.

"Try harder man! Get her off him!!!" Jermaine groans in unsuccessful triumph, yanking back my shoulder. A small gasp is emitted from his mouth when the audible sound of a loud snap fills the air. Though the pain is disregarded despite it being so intense.

I notice that his eyes are burning with insanity and are flickering, rolling and constantly closing. Arms and hands are now incredibly limp, his body heavy against my hands, nothing to choke out at all to relieve the condition he is in.

He's losing consciousness.

And I can't stop myself from squeezing harder.

Moments later, his eyes are on the verge of shutting and I'm beginning to regret what I have done.

I despise Tito.

Panicking, my hands are released from his bruised neck. Suddenly, he collapses to the floor, coughing and heaving, trying to regain proper pulse and breathing rate. As I take a few steps back, his head slowly raises. He glances at me with fatigued eyes, filled with so much intimidation and hurt.

It's something that I cannot take.

So I flee.

-
My fingernails scrape the wet, freezing ashen chains on the ancient swings and instantly move away to land on the soft material of my soaked overshirt that uncomfortably clings to my shivering skin.Tranquil patters of rain rhythmically land onto the grey, miserable ground which fortunately calm the eeriness of the lone park that I have now situated myself in. Small, warm tears stream down my face as I take my seat on the ebony platform. I am grateful that my mind hastily decided to wear leather boots. They are waterproof and are the only clothing item that is managing to keep part of my body warm and pleasant.

What on earth have I done? No matter how angry I was there was no right for me to hurt Tito to the actual point where a serious injury would occur.

I should've stopped. It could've only lasted for a few seconds but knowing me, I had to extend it.

What's wrong with me? Tito may have been killed all because of my mindless actions. What are the Jackson family going to think of me? Ban me from their household? Think of me as a shameful girl?

Most of all, what's Michael going to think of me?

I'm so stupid.

"What if I killed him? Michael will think I'm mental. I lost my temper because his words hurt me and it also hurt Michael, resulting in me even more hurt. I love him..." I mumble to myself, gently swinging back and forth, shoes scraping across the ground. Pricks of rain hit against my cheek. Quick needles. It causes an abrupt, unexpected reaction.