Smile (a Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

(47)

I lie in the hospital bed with my legs to my chest as I think about Michael. 

Why did I even kick him out?

Sure, he lied to me, but I didn't have to kick him out like that.

There is a knock at the door, interrupting my thoughts, and I cross my fingers that it is Michael.

"Come in," swallow softly as the door opens slowly. I grin as Brady comes into my vision and steps in the room, closing the door behind him.

"Girl, what'd you do?" He tuts, shaking his head.

"I passed out," I mumble, giving him a weak grin, "Apparently I haven't been eating enough. I know that I haven't, but I dont' know why Michael has been lying to me about my weight. I know I'm overweight, he doesn't have to lie to make me feel better about it." I scoff, folding my arms as he sits on the side of my bed.

"Emma, babe," he starts, looking down at his hands, "I love you as much as the next bitch, but I dont' think Michael is lying to you. You look so frail and helpless. You need to eat and gain some of your weight back." He sways me as I shake my head.

Tears  well up in my eyes as his pierce into mine.

"I'm not anorexic." I croak as a tear rolls down my cheek.

"No, I never said that," he says immediately, taking my hands in his, "You just need to eat more and stop overworking your body." He says sincerely, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

"Okay, that sounds like something I can do," I say hesitantly, nodding my head.

"So when are you getting out of this nasty place?" He scrunches his nose, making a funny face as I laugh groggily.

"I don't know," I sigh, shrugging my shoulders, "I haven't talked to a nurse or anything. I think Michael talked to one thought and he told me what the doctor said, but I didn't believe him." I mumble guiltily as Brady raises an eyebrow.

"Why don't you just talk to a doctor directly if you don't believe him?" Brady smirks as I run my hands through my hair shakily.

"First of all, a doctor hasn't come in here yet and I don't want to call one in here and cause a whole panic that isn't necessary. Second of all," I begin slowly, looking down at my hands, "I don't think I want to know the truth." I say quietly, holding back tears that are pushing to get through.

"Babe, no one likes to hear this, but you need to face the truth. That is how you are going to get through life and make things better. I know that Michael wants that for the both of you. This is effecting Michael as much as it is effecting you.

"I didn't really think about that," I mumble, feeling the guilt.

I've had to be independent for the past two years and there was never really anyone there that I had to think about. I just assumed that Michael was separate from me. I never really thought that I was effecting us as a whole unit. 

"He's really worried about you. When he called me, he was crying on the other end." He says softly as my brows raise with concern.

"He called you?" I ask quietly, putting a hand over my mouth.

"Yeah. He was beside himself." He says sadly, shaking his head as my eyes shift away from his.

"God, I'm so stupid," I sigh shakily, resting my forehead isn't he palm of my hand, "I want Michael here with me. I'm so dumb for kicking him out." I whisper desperately.

"Do you want me to go and get him?" Brady asks, starting to stand from the side of my bed.

"No, that's okay, I don't want to cause him or you any trouble. Can you go and find a nurse though?" I ask, smiling wanly.

"Yeah, I can do that," he smiles in one cheek, kissing one of mine before heading out of the room to get a nurse.

I lie there in the sheets, wrapping myself up again, as thoughts swarm my racing mind. I obviously passed out for a reason, but I really need to know if Michael was telling the truth. He has no reason to lie to me, so it must've been the truth. I just want things to be better. I want to be happy with myself. I don't want to get in the way of Michael's career. I don't want him to stop doing the things that he loves because he's worried about me.

"Miss Abella?" A caring voice says, walking through the door of my room. "Your friend notified me that you were awake and that you wanted to talk to me.

"I want to know why I'm here," I nod, ready to face the truth.

"I told your boyfriend because it might be easier to hear it from a loved one, but I can tell you again if it need be," she smiles pitifully, flipping through the charts on her clipboard, "You passed out earlier today because of your eating habits. You are severely malnourished and more than twenty pound underweight. We usually classify this as anorexia, but we don't have to call it that if you don't want to." She smiles, full of sorrow.

I blink a few times, processing the same information that Michael had given me earlier.

"I advise you to take a break from all of the strenuous exercise you've been doing and to eat as much nutritious food as you want. It would be beneficial for you to gain some weight back so that you can be your normal self," she smiles, looking back down at her clipboard, "If you continue these bad habits that got you in here, there could be some major complications to your health."

"Like what," I ask with furrowed brows.

"There is a possibility that it could go as far as you not being able to have children. You might also need special medications, you could have heart, liver, or other organ failures and there is no doubt that your body could permanently shut down."

"Thank you," I sigh shakily, realizing that I could potentially die, "When can I leave?"

"You can be discharged at any time as long as you have someone with you." She smiles wanly, patting the top of my foot with comfort.

"Thank you," I smile as she walks out of the room and Brady steps in seconds later.

"So?" he asks curiously. I sigh, lying back in the bed, covering my face with my forearms. 

"Michael was telling me the truth," I murmur into my cool skin, "I can leave whenever I want, but someone has to take me home." he smiles knowingly, walking across the room to unfold a wheel chair that is on the wall, "What the hell are you doing?" I ask, raising my brows. 

"It's hospital policy that all patients leave the premises in a wheelchair." he winks, setting it up. 

"But I can walk perfectly fine," I say sassily as he giggles in amusement. 

"Girl, you can barely run your hands through your hair and you think you're about to walk out of here? Yeah, I don't think so." he laughs, rolling it over to me.

"Fine." I mumble, slowly sitting up and putting my legs over the side of the bed, "Can you help me get dressed?" I ask as he helps me up, putting my arms around his neck. 

"Isn't that my job?" a sexy voice says from the doorway, and I'm smiling before I even turn around.