Book 5- 1969 (Michael Jackson)

Chapter 9- It's Perfectly Normal

               Chapter 9- It's Perfectly Normal

               Date: Saturday, June 7, 1969

               Time: 7:54PM

               MICHAEL'S POV

"They're falling asleep again..." Marlon popped ones of my candies in his mouth, situating it underneath his tongue so it would dissolve. "It's the seventh, isn't it?"

Jermaine giggled. "Looks like Sleepy's made his way into our house again!" He pinched my nose in a joking manner. 

Of course, I did not find the matter to be funny at all. I didn't enjoy being picked on to begin with, but add that to my overly-exhausted grouchiness, and someone had a ticked Michael. I shot Jermaine a less than pleased expression as a warning sign.

Kate was the one who broke my ferocity. "Aww, Michael looks so cute with his lips all puckered up. Hehe, don't you think so, Joseph?" She put her index finger to her lips thoughtfully.

"Aww, Kate," I mumbled, "... I was try'na give Jermaine a..." My words jumbled together, making little sense to everyone. Even I didn't know what I was talking about by that point. 

"Don't call me Kate," she snapped. "I'm your mother, not your spouse, Michael." Even though my eyes were barely open, I could clearly see her crossing her arms in her sassy manner.

I let out an exhausted sigh. "Yes, Mommy..."

"Are you tired, Mike?" One concerned voice asked. It was Tito, of all the brothers. He put one hand to my forehead as Mommy would have normally done. After a careful moment of consideration, he turned to whoever else was around me. "Should he just go to bed? He looks like he's gonna pass out any second now."

A delayed "Me, too," came from Kayla, with a yawn following her message.

But it was no use. I tried and fought for as long as I possibly could, but sleep began to envelope me completely, shutting off any acting forces against it. I could almost feel my entire world fade to grey, then black, everyone's voices turning down in volume as the second passed, until all noises or disruptions were muted. 

The last thing I felt before complete blackness was a split second of raw, panicking fear. I can't control myself, I realized. If I couldn't control myself now, how would I manage later when the fatigue only progressed? What would happen in Motown? Would I still be the same?

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"Yeah. It just keeps getting earlier and earlier every single time," I explained to our new "checker", Kenya. She nodded understandingly as I proceeded to describe the side effect between Kayla and I. "At first, it was about 9 at night, but now, it's nearly two and a half hours earlier. It's only ben a couple years, and... Well, I'm honestly fretting over it. This doesn't seem normal at all." 

"Is there anything Kayla would like to add?" Kenya questioned. She casually pulled out a thin lock of hair and began braiding the top.

"Yeah, actually," she said. "Whenever I wake up, I either come to chewed nails, which I never chew, or a terrible cold sweat. I'm not so sure whether that's anything I should take a warning sign for... not that I'll clearly remember any of this in the morning."

I added my two cents, as well. "Ooh, and whenever I wake up the next morning- usually at four or five- I'm wide awake for the rest of the day. I've also been told that I, um... Kinda have-"

"Night terrors? Kayla suggested openly. "It's just the three of us listening, Mike."

I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. I get them real bad. Like, I wake up the household when I get them."