You sat in front of your dressing table mirror, letting out a sigh as you finished fastening your hair up in a loose bun. Tears streamed down your face as you observed the bluish purple marks along your inner arm.
As you brushed the bruises gently with your fingers, movement at the doorway of the bedroom, caught your eye. You looked up and saw Daniel, your boyfriend of five years.
An abusive boyfriend, at that. Yes, you had been in a relationship with an abusive man for five years. Now, of course - one would have expected you to have escaped, and you had tried - but in the end, Daniel had always gotten his way.
He had even threatened to kill your family if you had ever run away.
The only escape for you, was your job. You worked as a private assistant to Michael Jackson - otherwise known as the King of Pop.
His music and his dance, along with his amazing team - were the things that kept you going in life. You had even found a good friend in his makeup artist, Karen Faye.
"You're lucky I didn't kill you last night," Daniel sneered at you before walking away. You blinked back the tears, grabbing your coat and putting it on.
When you were convinced that all of your bruises were hidden - you nodded to yourself, grabbing your bag before walking out.
"And he didn't know that I hid the money in the stove!" Karen laughed as the two of you sat together in the dance studio, watching Michael rehearse.
You laughed a little, but winced when you felt your ribs hurt. Daniel had kicked you violently the night before, and the result of his actions were the dark red marks along the sides of your torso.
"Hey," Karen frowned at you when she saw you wincing. "Is everything okay?"
Your eyes began to tear up from the pain, and you brought your hands to massage your rib area.
"What's wrong?" Karen tugged at your top, but you brushed her arms away. "Let me see," she frowned, eventually managing to pull your top up. Her eyes widened when she saw the marks that decorated your body. "(Y/N)...who did this to you?" she gasped. "Was it....Daniel?"
You began to cry silently, and Michael quickly saw what was happening in the reflection of the mirror. He turned around and frowned, making his way toward you.
"What's wrong?" he knelt down and whispered, bringing his hand up to your face. He had always treated you like you were his own.
"Look," Karen pointed to your ribs. He gasped as well, shaking his head.
"Who did this to you?" his eyes hardened. "Was it your boyfriend?"
"Yeah," Karen answered for you.
Suddenly, you began to shake, and in the blink of an eye - everything had gone black.
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