Bound By Contract

Chapter Twenty Five

Christina's P.O.V.

When Michael returns home from the trial he finds me sitting on his bed waiting for him. By the slight change in his expression I can tell he is surprised to see me, but his over all demeanor remains downright glum. He is still in the pajamas he was forced to wear to court in the morning and over them he is wearing a black sport coat. His posture is hunched and his hair is a mess. He's far from his usual immaculately groomed self.

I know the question need not be asked, but I decide to ask anyway. "So... how'd it go?"

He shuffles towards me and hops on the bed putting his feet up. He sighs heavily.

"Awful. I was a spectacle out there today." he replies monotonously, looking straight ahead of him.

No matter how hard I wrack my brain I can't find any words to console him. Michael starts to weep softly, turning his face as if he were trying to hide the fact that he was crying.

"Now you see why I don't want you to come with me?"

"To be honest, I don't. I wish you would let me come. I feel so useless being stuck here and not being able to do anything."

"That's the thing, Christina. You couldn't do anything, anyway. It'd just be a million times worse."

"Worse? How would I make things worse?" I wrinkle my brow.

He turns toward me animatedly. "Look at me. I'm losing it! I don't want to be seen as weak. I don't want you to see me as weak. I'm tired of being stepped on." He makes a tight fist in frustration.

Turning towards him, I look him straight in the eye. "Michael, no one could call you weak. You're the strongest person I know."

"Yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Right."

"I'm not kidding. I don't know anyone who can handle all of this insanity, and handle it twice, and still be standing to keep on fighting."

"I've survived a lot of battles," he pauses and says softer than before, "but I don't know if I'll survive the war."

"You will, Michael. You will." Stroking his cheek where his tears had been falling a few moments earlier, I look deep into his big brown eyes. "Don't focus on the madness. People love you. Focus on them." His expression softens. After a few seconds that seemed to me like hours, I declare, "I love you."

_________________________________________________________

Michael's P.O.V.

Aside from everything that has been going wrong in my life, there has always been a place in my heart for philanthropy.  It's one of the few things aside from my own children that have kept me sane these past few years. The need to help others is something that has always been deeply engrained in me, into my very soul, and is what ultimately drove me to make the decision that I made today.

Christina and I look out of the windows of my second floor circular loft in my bedroom. In the three hundred sixty degree view, we can see a group of about one hundred people walk into the main train station, which is on the chief road that is closest to the house. From where we are, we can see them all very clearly; there are men women and children, most in summer clothes hopping up the steps of the train station and into the cars.

"There are so many people down there!" Christina notes. I nod my head, wishing I could be down there with them. "It was very nice of you to have them come," she continues.

"It's the least I could do. It's not their fault all that is happening." Considering the fact that the invitation to the Big Sister Club of Los Angeles had been sent out over a year ago, just the thought of letting these kids down breaks my heart.