Michael Jackson Imagine & Story Collection

Child's Love {One-shot story}

{Dangerous era – 1993 (Straight hair – Remember The Time style)}

The path I'm walking on is cold and rocky; it seems to be never-ending. A pain is lingering in my heart, giving no promises of ever leaving. My mind and my soul both feel numb beyond words – but what does that matter? It's not as if I can tell anyone about the way I feel; everyone hates me now.

Ever since the terrible rumours surfaced a couple months back, it's been a tragic life for me. The whole world is accusing me of the most horrible crime; something I am simply unable to do. They're accusing me of sexual assault, and they're labelling me as a Paedophile. Honestly, there's nothing in my heart that would possess me to do such a thing; I would slit my wrists before harming anyone, let alone a child – a sweet, innocent child.

Since the accusations, everything has turned for the worst: my family have turned against me, the media has been spreading nonsense about me – even those I used to call my "friends" have left my side – specifically after they've promised never to do that. As well as this, some of my fans have started seeing me as more of a monster than an idol – I never thought my precious fans would do that to me, especially when everything they're hearing is false.

Heaving a loud, prolonged sigh, I continue my little walk up the never-ending pathway. There are no shoes on my feet, and no shirt on my back – all I'm wearing is a vest and pants. It's like I've literally been stripped of both my pride and my dignity because of all of this. It's a nasty feeling to endure.

Realising I'm alone, in the middle of nowhere, tears form in my eyes, threatening to spill over my lashes, down my face. This isolated feeling inside of me is excruciatingly painful; I need someone to assure me that they love me, and that they care for me. My brows furrow a little, as my bottom lip begins to quiver, and my emotions start to show a little clearer, as a soft whimper of sadness passes my lips.

A dark cloud looms above me; its shadow is cast over me, trapping me like a fish in a net. This is all I've been experiencing recently – darkness, and mental agony.

When will it all stop?

When will it all go away?

These questions repeat themselves within my mind, as I continue up the pathway. A deep feeling of grief fills me; it expands inside my stomach, rising into my chest, and into my heart. But the thing that hurts the most? There's nothing I can do to stop it from happening.

My lips parted slightly to breathe, and my eyes half-lidded from weariness, my eyes shift their gaze, until, up ahead, I see a silhouette. It's a small silhouette; it's running around freely, seemingly having the most wonderful time, much like a child – the way I always wanted to be. However, because I'm supposed to be an adult, I'm forced to stop being who I am to please the rest of the world, and to me, that's not fair at all.

A sudden sense of curiosity invading my mind, I venture closer to the silhouette, anxious to find out who dares to enter my "Bizarre, Paedophile-only" world. It hurts my heart to be labelled as those two things – especially since I'm neither.

As I advance on the silhouette, I begin to hear joyful cries of glee; whoever it is, is running around with a kite, on a patch of grass. Where did the grass come from? All I've seen around here is weeds, because they're just as ugly as my reality.

"Hello?" my voice lets out nervously.

The person doesn't answer me; they're too immersed in the fun they're having to realise I'm even here. It's my dream to be the same – to be happy and free, with no cares or worries; to be so concentrated on being cheerful that I don't even notice the rest of the world; to run around on the beautiful green grass with nothing but me, myself and I to think about. And children, of course – always children.