Eighteen Years Later.
You laughed as your seventeen year old daughter, Ayla, jumped about. She was performing a series of dance moves, and you were cheering her on.
It had been quite a long time since you had last seen Michael, and even after all the years that had passed - you knew that you still loved him. You hated yourself for that.
After that fateful evening, you had left Neverland - and gone to stay with your best friend, Luisa. You stayed with her for five months before being able to get back on your feet financially. Now, you were a primary school teacher, and your beautiful daughter was in college.
Ayla was very much like her father. She had a beautiful voice, and she danced flawlessly. She was a copy of her father, except - she looked just like you. She had her father's eyes, but she had your smile - and your hair.
She was stunning.
However, Ayla didn't know whom her father was. You had told her that her father had died in a plane crash - and that was how the story was going to stay.
"Mom!" your daughter's voice made you snap out of your brief train of thought. You widened your eyes and shook your head. "We have to go out shopping today!" she squealed.
Since it was a Saturday, Ayla had a point. The two of you always went shopping on Saturdays because that was the only day that the both of you were free. Sundays were more of rest days.
"Ah," you nodded, standing up from the sofa that you had been seated on. "You're right!" you laughed.
"Let's go now before the shops close!"
At the supermarket, you walked along - pushing the trolley. Ayla walked beside you, looking at the various items on the shelves.
"Ooh," Ayla giggled as she picked up a stuffed animal. "It's a cat," she looked at you, making you laugh.
"Get it," you smiled, making your daughter grin happily. She placed it in the trolley before the two of you continued to walk again.
Suddenly, you heard a series of screams come from the front end of the supermarket. You frowned and turned around, only to widen your eyes when you saw who was walking in.
The man that you had tried to forget for eighteen years. Your form became rigid as Ayla gasped.
"It's Michael Jackson!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I need an autograph!"
"No," you pulled her back, thinking of an excuse. "I'm not feeling very well. Let's go home," you gulped.
Ayla frowned, and opened her mouth to say something. However, she froze when Michael's eyes landed on you.
I know it sucked!
But I tried!
Lots of love!