Fly Away (Michael Jackson)

twenty two

Bonnie's POV

I can't do this anymore. I don't care if I'm depressed, I need to suck it up. I can't be upset with what life has given me. And right now, life is telling me that Michael and I just need a break.

I need to move on. If humanly possible...

I got up from my weeping position on my bed, and took a quick shower.

I got out and started to dry myself off, then I heard a knock on the door.

"Hello?" The voice was pretty quite. I couldn't differenciate as to whether it was a man or woman.

I was panicking. I'm naked, I can't answer the door. And I can't tell the person I'm naked, 'cause it could be some creepy staff member, and waltz right in! Or it could be Michael... no. It can't be. He hates you now. Why would he want to see you?

"I can't make it to the door, right now. Who is it?" I asked very frightned.

"Room Service! Sorry for bothering, I be back soon, to clean room," she spoke louder this time, and I figured it was a woman with a slight accent.

I sighed a sigh of relief, knowing it wasn't... nevermind.

I got dressed, and did my makeup.

I've got to move on. I've got to. I can't mope around crying, because no one will care. I know no one does.

'Gosh, Bonnie. Quit being such a victim!' A voice said in my said.

I agreed...for once, with the voice in my head. I need to stop moping, and weeping, and being so... "Woe-Is-Me!"

Why don't I just go downstairs for breakfast?

I checked the clock again: 11:30 a.m.

Well screw breakfast then.

I'm gonna take a walk. I'll forget everything. Forget everything, and walk...

**

I found myself on this walking trail, and continued on its path. I couldn't stop thinking about Michael. I watched the path, and I kept hearing, "Why don't you get on down, get on down the ro-oad?!" from The Wiz in my head.

Michael...

I shut my eyes and started thinking of my happy places. That didn't help the forgetting-Michael thing. He was in ALL of my happy places. He WAS my happy place.

Then, I fell to the floor as if I ran into a tall wall of abs and pecs. I'd bumped into another person who was running down the path too... oops.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! Here, let me help you up," the dark, tall, and muscular man put his hand out to help me up. He was just... amazing looking. He had a perfect face and body. He was... gorgeous.

(A/N: Try to imagine Shemar Moore. If you don't know who that is...shame shame. ^-^ Google it!)

I gladly took his hand to help me up, and I guess he pulled to hard, and I was shoved into his chest again. I didn't mind.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you," I apologized like a nervous clutz.

He smiled, showing a perfect set of bright white teeth, "No, it's all on me! I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings!" he laughed.

"Niether was I," I laughed.

His laugh was so manly...it was adorable.

He smiled again, "Now are we going to continue this Going-Nowhere conversation, or can I get that name of yours?"