The courtroom is suffocatingly quiet, the air thick with tension as you sit stiffly between your two sisters. At the front of the room, presiding over the trial with an iron fist, is your mother. She sits behind the elevated bench, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. Across the room sits Michael Jackson, pale and composed in his sharp suit, completely unbothered by the gravity of the room because he knows, with absolute certainty, that he is innocent. Your family's deep-seated dislike for him radiates through the silence, but he remains a calm anchor in the center of the storm.Your mother leans forward, her strict gaze locking onto your first sister. Her voice cuts through the room like a blade.

“Navy, do you think he is guilty?"

"Yes," Navy answers without a shred of hesitation.

Turning her cold eyes to your other sister, your mother demands,

“Naomi, what about you?"

"Yes," Naomi chimes in quickly, eager to please.

Finally, the heavy, demanding gaze of your mother lands squarely on you.

“And what do you have to say?"

You stay completely frozen. You know exactly how strict she is, and you know the terrifying cost of speaking the truth. If you say he is innocent, it won’t just cause an argument—it will cost you a severe beating the moment you get home. Terrified, you keep your mouth shut and bury your face toward the floor.Slowly, you force your eyes upward to look across the courtroom at Michael. He is already looking back at you. He doesn't need your validation to feel secure in his innocence, but as your eyes lock, you see something unexpected flickering beneath his calm demeanor. It isn't a plea for hope or help. Instead, his gaze holds a dark, intense warmth that seems to whisper a completely different thought.

”You're absolutely delicious looking, darling..."

Unable to fully process the sheer weight of his expression, your cheeks burn. You quickly look back down at your hands, letting out a quiet, trembling sigh as the heavy silence of the courtroom closes in around you again.