March 1st, 1991
Dear Diary,
Days go by, and every morning I wake up with his face in my head. No matter how much I try to erase him from my mind, I can't. He is not only in my head anymore, it's like he is under my skin, in my bones. Like I can't get rid of him, like we were forever linked together.
He is everywhere, but at the same time, he is nowhere to be found. Everywhere I look, he isn't there. I can hear his voice and see his face, but it's all in my head. I feel like I am becoming crazy without him. I'm just as empty as I was before he walked into my life, even sadder, if humanely possible.
Michael keeps on calling, and I just keep ignoring him. I hate myself for doing that, but I have to. Grams asked me to stay away from him because she is scared for my life, and I can't take the risk to worry her. I will always put her first, no matter how angry I am with her at the moment. She is the only family I have left.
But I—... I miss Michael. I hate the fact that he's become so important to me in such a short time, but I do. I miss him, I miss how he makes me feel. He needs me, and I need him, things should be simple. If I want to be near him again, I need to find a way to reassure Grams about my health. There must be something I can do to stop putting my life at risk by being around Michael, and I am going to find it, because he is worth it. He is worth the fight.
I can't even have visions anymore, Diary. Does this mean this is the end? Because I am not going to accept it. This can't be it.
I sighed heavily, and wiped the tears I had under my eyes with the back of my hand. This whole situation wore me out emotionally speaking. Fighting against my own feelings was probably one of the hardest thing I ever had to do. It's like I was absorbed by what I was feeling inside without paying much attention to what was happening on the outside. I was lacking something, something vital for me, for my well-being. This something had only one name: Michael Jackson.
I could start to explain how his absence created such a void deep inside of me, but I wouldn't be able to use the proper words, for this feeling was entirely new for me. Of course I experienced loss and grief in the past, but this feeling here was different from what I had ever experienced in my life. I tried to put words on this when Alice and I talked, but I miserably failed. She noticed how distracted and off I was, and I think it worried her to the highest point. She wasn't used to seeing me this down, because I normally try to fake a smile, and go with whatever situation I have to face.
Everything was different this time, I couldn't control anything anymore.
I closed my journal, and put it back on the nightstand, along with some other books I put there. Including Moonwalk, Michael's autobiography. I watched its cover intensely for a few long seconds, asking myself if it was a good idea to keep reading it or not. I loved how his words sounded just like him when he was actually talking to someone, like I could actually hear him say them. This alone gave me some kind of comfort, for it allowed me to feel close to him, as if he was telling me this story himself.
Reading Michael's book was somehow a way for me to find a way to trigger something in my brain: images, voices, flashes... Anything. Anything that would show me that I wasn't done with Michael, that I would find a way to be by his side again without hurting anybody in the process: not me, not Grams, and not Michael.
The more I read about him, the more I felt close to him. But was it a good idea to feel closer to him while all I was doing was pushing him away?
I shook my head, determined to put an end to this annoying questioning that kept on intoxicating my brain. I went downstairs with the book in my hands, and plopped down on the couch. With a warm plaid secured around my arms, I started reading Michael's every words, trying to find comfort in his writing, trying to make his absence less painful.
Chapter after chapters, I learned more things about him, about his childhood, his work, his relationship with his family. I was saddened to see how Michael's childhood was completely taken from him. His father, Joseph, was always hard on him, and expecting him to be the best in everything he did. He even confessed how he could be abusive at times with him and his brothers. I shed a tear as I remembered what Michael told me about this book. How he felt so exposed that he didn't want it published. I understood better why he changed his mind at the last minute, and I found him even braver for releasing it after all.
"I myself have never tried drugs — no marijuana, no cocaine, nothing. I mean, I haven't even tried these things. Forget it. This isn't to say we were never tempted. We were musicians doing business during an era when drug use was common. I don't mean to be judgmental — it's not even a moral issue for me — but I've seen drugs destroy too many lives to think they're anything to fool with."
As I read this passage, the memory of seeing Michael taking pills in one of my visions came to my mind, and I felt a chill running down my spine just thinking about it. I didn't know what kind of pills they were, but I had the feeling that this would become a problem in his future. I remembered the pain I was in when these images flooded my mind, how the images were so strong that I was barely able to stand on my own two feet.
What could happen to him that would make him take pills? Was he going to be sick? Was he going to go through an addiction issue? Was this something I needed to save Michael from, and was it the reason why I was allowed to see this part of his future?
With a heavy sigh, I closed the book, and put it on my lap. I looked outside through the window at the city, as I let my thoughts wander freely in my head. I surprised myself thinking about my past and my family, and more precisely Katelyn, my mother's sister.
When I was only discovering about my ability to see people's future, my parents sent me to see different doctors that would help me understand why I could feel and see things that didn't happen yet. This moment in my life was a real nightmare for me and for both of my parents. I didn't know what was happening to me, I just knew it wasn't normal, that I shouldn't be able to know things before anyone, such as my grandfather's lung cancer.
I happened to have one vision at a family dinner on my mother's side, back in the days. It was just the three of us, Katelyn and her husband, George, their daughters Alyssa and Mary and our grandpa. I've never known my grandmother, she died when I was only two.
This family gathering turned into a real nightmare for me. My parents knew that I was seeing things about my grandfather's condition, but the one I had that day... It was stronger than the other ones, quite similar to the ones I had with Michael. Following this, I was feeling horrible, and of course Katelyn and her family started to ask questions. Thinking that family was a safe place away from judgments, my mother told them all about me. She told them that I was seeing things, things concerning my grandfather, concerning the fact that he was going to be very, very ill.
"How can you trust a twelve year-old? She's probably still talking to her imaginary friend and you want to believe her when it comes to dad's health?"
"Freaks exist in movies only."
"You're just as crazy as your daughter, dad is fine!"
"She's not normal!"
Those are not the things you expect your family to say about you.
After this, the three of us never saw Katelyn and her family again, except for my grandfather's funerals. She didn't even dare come to see us, because she knew this was all true, that I was right from the beginning. Looking back, I think she was probably scared of me, but I couldn't blame her for that. This was, and would always be scary.
My grandmother and my parents became my only true family. I didn't need anybody else, for with them, I knew I wouldn't lack anything. They always made sure to support me in my moment of doubts and through my never-ending questionings, they accepted me before I could even accept myself and my ability.
"They accepted me," I repeated out loud, as I tried to convince myself that what I was planning to do was the right decision.
It clicked into place: if my grandmother was able to accept me just the way I was, I knew she would be able to accept the fact that I needed Michael by my side. All I had to do to be able to be near Michael was to find someone who would be able to help me with my visions, to help me take care of myself.
I needed to start with my family, and have a closer look to my family tree. Of course I already went though this step in the past, and I never found anybody like me. This time, I was more than willing to search in the depth of my legacy to find something that would put me on the right track to understand and accept myself.
In a swift motion, I put my book and blanket on the couch, and left the loft to reach the old wine cellar that was now my basement. I rummaged through the different shelves, looking for old storage boxes where I put my photo albums and other childhood memories. The light emanating from the single bulb on the ceiling was far from being enough to cover the entire place. I wasn't too thrilled just thinking that I would have to walk towards the darkest corners of the dusty basement.
I rubbed my hands over my arms to try to warm up a bit, as the place was really cold, and looked at my surroundings, hoping that I would spot what I was looking for without having to go in the gloomy parts of the basement. I opened the big brown closet that used to be in my childhood's bedroom, and a smile touched my lips at the sight of my old teddy bear, Mr. Sprinkles. I picked it up, and dusted off the top of its head with my hands. Many memories came along with it. It used to be my best friend throughout my childhood, and I would take it everywhere with me.
I was relieved when I spotted the two boxes I was looking for. They were under my old dining table, the one that used to be the center piece of furniture of my childhood home. With Mr. Sprinkles under my arm, I pulled the boxes from under the table, and took a peek inside of them before taking them upstairs, in the loft.
Out of breath, I put them on the floor, and crashed on the couch with a sigh. I randomly took one of the photo albums that were in the bigger box, and opened it. A grin appeared on my face at the very first picture I saw: a photo from my graduation day in high school. I had my mother and father on both of my sides, and they were both kissing my cheeks. They were so proud of me, and I was so happy to make them proud. I remembered this day vividly.
I shook my head slightly, trying to stay focus on my aim, and to avoid falling into nostalgia.
Minutes turned into hours, and still, nothing caught my eyes. Every picture was deja vu to me, every vintage item I kept held nothing but memories... I felt like I just wasted my entire afternoon going through –sometimes— painful memories for nothing. The whole living room was a mess, with papers, photos and other records and whatnot scattered all across the floor. I sighed at the sight of the messy place, and stood up to go grab a glass of water in the kitchen. On my way there, I realized that something was glued to my foot. I frowned, and picked the picture from under my bare foot. I dusted it off a bit, and scrutinized closely the person on the black and white photograph. It was a young man, with brown hair. The picture seemed quite old, as the outline turned yellow with time. I turned the photo over, and realized there was something written here that we could easily figure out even though the ink was not as visible as it used to be.
'Hayden, Age 16.'
At the second I put the photo on the counter top of the kitchen, my head started spinning slightly, and flashes started to appear inside my brain. I was confused by the sudden images that were flooding my mind, because I hadn't have any in days. I was relieved when I caught sight of Michael, but quickly, I became confused when I noticed he had the photo of the boy in his hands. What got me even more muddled was to see that Michael and I were having a conversation with a man that looked exactly like him... but older.
I leaned on the kitchen counter, and reopened my eyes once the flashes were gone. I took the photo back in my hands, and looked at it closely again. The person on this photo, Hayden, was the same person I saw in my vision, there was no doubt about it. The square shaped face, the thin mouth, the deep stare,... Everything looked the same.
When I was about to give up, this vision gave me hope. Maybe this man was the person who would help me, maybe he was the one who held all the answers to my questions. I was about to panic at that simple thought, but I quickly thought about Michael being there, by my side. He was going to be there for me through this, and this alone helped me breathe. Thanks to this vision, I was ready to go through anything because I knew Michael would be there.
This was all I needed to keep going: a lead.