Fall Again (a Michael Jackson fanfiction)

19. Michael relapses

Michaels POV 🥀

I had a good few days, though a little worried about Hope. I was looking forwards to my walk with staff member McKenzie, a tall skinny guy with pale hair and spots.
I guess I didn't mind who the walk was with, though I would have preferred it was with Hope. They told me she'd be back on Friday, and I was looking forwards to it.

But I got panicked when it was time to leave for my walk. I don't know why, I'd been inside for a couple of weeks, my nauseous feeling had gone, I had more energy, wasn't exhausted for once - but this was a big step, at least for me.

I'd had a bad flashback last night of my father hitting me. With the help of Timothy and Rose, two night nurses, I'd gotten through it.

I could feel another one coming on, but hopefully the walk would help me forget about things for a bit, get some fresh air.

Technically at some point in their recovery, most patients would be allowed out alone. But I wasn't at that point yet, I knew I'd end up doing a runner and jumping into traffic or something. I was still desperately suicidal, I had learnt how to block it out by now; but if I had the chance ....

I shook the thought out of my head. This will be a GOOD walk. It will go well, and hopefully it would result in me being given more walks, and I could walk with Hope when she returned.

I considered trying to make myself look a bit more presentable but couldn't be bothered - no one else except Mckenzie would see me anyway.

I put my hands in my trackie pockets, trying to hide the shaking. We walked across the car park, and each crunch our shoes made in the snow grated my ears.
I wanted to claw my ears off, to scream. I shouldn't have come.

But I stayed strong. I needed to think of being able to spend time with Hope.

Then we were walking across the pavement, past the woods, across the road, and then back across the grounds. McKenzie was chatting about the movies "Pirates of the Caribbean" and
"karate kid" and all sorts.

Then I tripped, my body slammed against the ground and suddenly I was at my family's home, I was 9 and my father was slamming me against the wall and I screamed and cried and he dropped me, spat at me and walked off.
I scrambled up and ran, ran, through the house, out the door - across the street and I could hear "Michael! Michael!"

It wasn't my dad, or mum, or any of my siblings - who was it? Then I tripped over the curb of the road and once again hit the ground, shocking me back into reality.

"Michael!" It was McKenzie, running over to me, hurriedly talking on a handheld transceiver - and I scrambled up and kept running.

"Ugly" "useless" "worthless" "can't even kill himself and do the world a favour" "wacko jacko"
"PEDO" the words screamed in my head.

I must do it now. I ran down the pavement towards the road, McKenzie still chasing me, shouting my name while radioing for emergency backup. "I need help now! We're heading for the high street!"

I ran and ran, feeling sicker and more scared and most of all, suicidal. I was going to do something, I had to do something.

"He's getting away! Call security RIGHT NOW!" McKenzie screamed.

I ended up in a park, pulling my hood up so no one would recognise me. I tied my long curly hair back and quickly bought sunglasses from a shop, keeping my head down, and pushed them on my face, then headed off again.

I looked for more woods, somewhere to stay hidden. I ran and ran, gasping for breath, sweat dripping down my face.

I had to do it. A train station? Throwing myself on the rails couldn't fail, surely. Or find a rope, hang myself from a tree? A bridge?

I ran, sobbing and crying now, my legs hurting but refusing to rest. I was long gone from the hospital, but I could faintly hear sirens.

Were they for me? No surely not, I was miles from Clemmie Woods now, and the high street.

I still ducked into an alleyway and started running again, my sunglasses almost falling off my face.

Would it all end tonight? I think it might.