BROTHER AND SISTER
He looked at the ceiling. Just lying there forever wasn't so bad, was it? But he had to move, he had to try at least.
And he got up. He stared into the mirror, as if it could tell him things people wouldn't. Suddenly furious with what he saw, he slapped the glass hard. It shattered into smithereens, and some of the little pieces were banged in his knuckles. He hissed in pain as he watched the blood drops run down his hand and arm to the floor and pool there.
That was no pain, of course, but a little itch which paled in comparison to what he'd had to stand during his life. He sighed and laughed slyly; he wasn't even forty and yet he talked about his life as if it'd been centuries long.
But centuries they seemed, at least since he'd had to stand his sister's last and most outrageous and blatant betrayal. Accusing him in front of the whole world, taking the support of the ones he loved off him! The worst part is that somewhere in his mind he knew his whole family was nothing but leeches, as caring as a whore you pay to love you, and this had only been worth to confirm him so.
The door creaked and a presence entered the room. His other sister leaned over him, a worried look on her face. She was the only one who'd never, ever left he alone, and despite being much younger she'd dealt with him when he was feeling low (as depressed) or just terribly high to the point he couldn't remember who or where he was, his name or age or anything else but the delicious, almost perfect numbness that the morphine caused him.
As now. The pain should've been terrible, (after years and years, shouldn't he have grown used to it?) but he was numb and nothing he could feel but that burning coldness galloping through his veins.
Something burnt his cheek suddenly. A hot tear, dropped from his sister's eye. And then, her mouth pressed against his, and it didn't feel wrong in his cushioned mind, because it felt good to be loved.
They were no longer brother and sister, no longer two superstars lost in a tricking world, no longer Michael and Janet Jackson, but two needy bodies without a soul, searching for one another in the darkness of a night soaked with opium, she ravaging the love and the lust she'd always wanted from that perfect, afar being he'd always been, he just sucking the heat and the energy, the struggle to live which emanated from her body to save himself, she had too much and he hadn't any, she completed him and saved him, then and forever, and their bodies melted together, and what should've never happened ended as they screamed.
And as he awakened of his morphine-d dream, he remembered nothing of that incestuous sin which saved him, only heat and being loved, and he saw his beloved sister sleeping by his side, and his heart swell of love. "How caring, she's stayed here with me and my nightmares the whole night long… what would I do without you, little sister?"
She stared at the sky. Why did life hate her so much? She'd been wondering so since she discovered her true feelings about Michael. And now he was gone and she needed to confess.
Stars lit up the dark night at the end of what has been the most beautiful day of the year so far. As it had always been, since that terrible day that almost killed her. Since 25th June, 2009. That had been seven years ago. And now, she had to tell.
Her niece sat by her side. The blue-eyed kid she'd known had disappeared, and in her place there was such a beautiful woman. Beautiful, yes, but nothing like her father.
- What did you have to tell me, Aunt Janet? –said she, as guilt made her stomach twist.
- It's something I've kept in secret for… -she sighed- twenty four years. I was all young and inexperienced, but I knew what I felt. You know your father and I were very close bonded together, don't you, Paris? –She nodded- Well… what I felt for him was absolutely not what a sister should feel for her brother. I loved him. And not only that; I lusted him. When your father had his bad times, you know –and she knew her aunt meant morphine- I… I… did what I shouldn't. Will you forgive me?
- Aunt Janet –she said, laughing, much to Janet's dismay- who didn't lust my father? Aunt LaToya did, and Joseph did, and every straight woman around him did. My father was pure lewd, as innocent and unaware as he was. And although it did not touch him, sin followed him wherever he went and exploded in the skin and desires of everybody who knew him. It was impossible not to lust him. In fact… I myself desired my father in a way daughters are not allowed to… I daresay, Aunt Janet, that what happened is nothing you should feel guilty of… you should feel proud.
She stood up and left, leaving a startled Janet behind. She looked at the sky, thinking that perhaps… life didn't hate her that much…
Author's note: NO, I absolutely do not think that Michael and Janet ever had incestuous sex, neither that she is capable of abusing her drugged brother. This is meant no disrespect to her or Michael. I think Janet is a great person that deserves nothing but our love & our pity. THIS IS JUST A STORY ABOUT "WHAT IF...?" PLEASE DON'T FLAME. PS Neither do I think that Paris was in love with her dad!