Dancing with the Devil 𖤐 MICHAEL JACKSON

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

SIX YEARS AGO
8 WEEKS AFTER THE FUNERAL

It was 6:24 a.m. and Michael Jackson had just woken up next to his dead mother on their living room floor. Her throat was slit open, so wide that you could see her spinal cord at the back of her throat. There was fresh blood dripping from the cut down to the dark oak wood floor. The weapon that was used, the knife Michael used to sell his soul, laid on the palm of his hand.

Michael knew he had viciously murdered his mother. I mean, who else could it have been? But, he did not remember anything at all. He didn't remember slitting his mother's throat open, or stabbing her multiple times in the chest.

At first, he laid there, staring into his deceased mother's brown eyes that were still wide open. He got those from her. He was upset at what he had done, he truly was. But, he did not show a sign of sadness. He was numb.

He got up, walked to the powder room, and looked at himself in the mirror. His white dress shirt was tainted in blood. As so was his hands.

"I look so filthy," he thought to himself and began to wash his hands in the sink. When he done and looked back up to the mirror, he was startled by surprise. And it was not a good surprise.

In the mirror, there stood Michael. But it wasn't him. This Michael had a clean white shirt on, not even a drop of blood on it. His curly hair was not a mess, and lastly, this Michael's eyes were all black. He definitely did not get those from his mother.

Michael knew it was him. The devil.

"What the hell did you do?" Michael screamed into the mirror.

The devil smirked, "Michael... we meet again, didn't I tell you to be very specific in the contract?"

"What do you mean? I did!" Michael exclaimed, waving his arms in anger. But the demon in the mirror stood still, "and what does killing my mother have anything to do with this?"

"As far as I remember, you wrote 'I will do anything to own Jackson Industries'. Did you not?"

Michael closed his eyes and rubbed his temples in frustration. "How stupid could I fucking be?" He screamed in his brain. But he's going to be mature about this.

"I suppose I did, and it was very foolish of me to do so. I was so excited that I wasn't thinking... but now can you tell me why I killed my fucking mother and why I didn't remember shit for gods sake?" Michael shouted into the mirror.

"Technically it wasn't you, it was me. You said you'd do anything to get what you want, and that's means I get to do whatever I want with you," the devil responded, "and I get bored sometimes."

"What do you mean 'you get bored'?" Michael questioned.

"I'm living inside of you. I make you blackout and I can do whatever I want, but you don't know a thing, you just wake up and wonder what the hell is going on."

"And out of all the people in the world you could have killed you choose my mother?"

"Michael, you and I know you liked it," the devil smirks, "all that blo-."

"Stop it! No, I don't. You're trying to put things into my head," Michael shouted. But, he knew he was lying to himself.

"The blood dripping down her neck, the stab wounds in her skin, her wide eyes open but with no soul in them," the devil kept taunting, "you wanted her gone, she was in your way wasn't she?"

"No, shut up. Leave me the hell alone!" and in that moment Michael had punched the mirror,  glass breaking and falling into pieces.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He slammed his hands on the bathroom counter repeatedly. He looked at the remaining part of the crack mirror and ran his hands through his hair, the sweat replacing his regular hair gel. He knew what he had to do.

Michael dragged the deceased body of Katherine Jackson through the hall and into the powder room, with gloves on this time of course, and laid her down in same position he found her when he woke up. He took the knife and cleaned it with bleach so his fingerprints weren't be on them anymore and smeared more of her blood on it before putting it in his mothers hand. He made sure to bleach the living floors, dispose of the gloves, and his shirt.

He took one last look at his mother before dialing three numbers on the house phone.

"Hello, this is 911, what's your emergency."

"Hello, my mother had just committed suicide."

━━━

"Baby, I came as soon as heard," Lisa ran through the doors, pulling her boyfriend into her arms. A stretcher with a white sheet over Katherine's body passed them.

"I'm so sorry, she looked normal every time I saw her, I never thought this would happen," she pulled back to look at his face, "how are you feeling?"

Lisa was confused why her boyfriend wasn't crying but pushed that thought away since everybody can grieve in different ways.

"I'm fine I suppose, I never thought she would do something like that either," Michael pulled her back into a hug, "just please stay with me."

"I wouldn't never leave you, Michael, I promise."