"Again!" Joseph yells. He sits down on the couch in front of the Jackson brothers with a belt in his hand. He just beat little Marlon on his hip after he missed a spin. Trying to calm himself down, Marlon went back into his position next to Michael. The brothers looked at each other in worry they weren't gonna make the audition to Motown Records.

"I got the feelin',
Baby, baby
I got the feelin'" Michael began singing and danced as well as his brothers.

    Even if Michael was the best, he wasn't perfect. Therefore, he made a mistake. When it was their turn to make a spin, Michael accidentally tripped with the microphone stand and almost fell. He watched Joseph's eyes full of fury.
  
    "Dammit, Michael! Not you too!" He yells, standing up from his seat. "Come here!" He tightened his grip on the leather belt.

     Michael hung his head low and slowly walked until he stood in front of Joseph, who gripped his arm and raised it. Michael shut his eyes, waiting for the beating to begin.

Michael's POV
8:03 am
7 days until payment . . .

Don't blame it on the sunshine
Don't blame it on the moonlight
Don't blame on the good times
Blame it on the boogie

Don't blame it on th-

     I smashed the radio's 'off' button since I couldn't stand listenting to my brothers sing. Alex laughed at my action as soon as he saw me. "C'mon, that's a good song!" He said, placing a plate of waffles in front of me.

     "It's not funny, Alex." I sigh deeply as I reach for my fork and knife.

     "I mean it!" He says. "Plus, maybe you wouldn't be so triggered if you hadn't run away the night before recording 'Dancing Machine'!" He shrugs. I rolled my eyes.

    "I already told you I'm not meant for that kind of life. It's not my thing. . ." I take a bite from my waffles. Alex sits across from me at the kitchen's dining table and starts cutting on his waffles.

"And Y/N is?" Alex asks unexpectedly. I almost spit out my orange juice. I glare at Alex and he's smirking.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I question him in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, Michael." He giggles, "If I wasn't into sausage, I would like her too. I mean, she's a total babe!" He sips on his apple juice.

    "Shut up," I can't help but giggle as well. "I just relate to want she went through with her father." I shrug.

    "Mhmmm." Alex gives me a disapproving look. I shake my head and proceed to eat.

   "Good morning, fellas." Murph skipped into the kitchen and walked towards the fridge.

  "Well someone is happy today." Alex speaks up once again. "This is the first time I see you skipping. Who is she?"
   I roll my eyes at Alex's assumptions.

   "For fuck's sake, Alex." Ross walks in and sits at the kitchen aisle. "Stop being obsessed with everybody's love life."

"I just love love!" Alex sighs dramatically.

"Hey. . . where's Jonathan?" I ask, changing the subject.

"He said he went to get some clothes for Y/N." Murph shrugs and passes the juice carton to Ross. "He also said he won't be back until nighttime."

I didn't say a word as I stood up from my chair and made my way into the hallway.

Y/N's POV
My body feels extremely sore. The white curtains stopped the sun rays from creeping into the room. I just laid there, looking at what I could make out of the window through the courtains.

     I slightly jumped at the sound of knocks on the door but I stayed in my position. The door creaked as it slowly opened, then I felt the side of my bed sink.

     "Are you okay, Y/N?" A soft, husky voice spoke.

     I turned around quickly to look at Michael, whose face had concern written all over it.

      "Jonathan went too far last night," I mutter. "I bled a lot."

"We never thought he was capable of raping someone." Michael mumbles in disappointment. "I can't imagine how you're feeling."

"You're right. You can't." I shake my head. "I'm tired, Michael."

"Oh," he stands up. "I'll let you rest the-"

I smile, "Not that I'm sleepy, dummy."

He blushes and sits back down on the same spot. "Tired of what then?"

I sigh, "Feeling like I'm worth nothing. To my parents. . . Now Jonathan treating me like I'm some kind of sex object.
I could swear to you the only one who cared about me was my music teacher, Sienna. I'm sure she's worried sick about me. . ." I fiddled with my fingers on my lap.

Michael gulps, not knowing what to say in return. "Um. . . Jonathan's not here. Maybe we could. . . go down to the basement where the piano is and-"

"Yes." I didn't even let him finish. Maybe a piano session will take my mind off things for a while.

"Alright." Michael smirks and stands up from the side of the bed, allowing me to get off it as well. I follow him out the doorway.

As we were walking across the living room to the stairway that leads to the basement, we see Alex with a sewing machine with purple fabric was spread around his feet. He was so focused he didn't notice us.
Michael notices that I was staring and chuckles. We start going down the stairs.

"He loves fashion." Michael addresses, "Everytime Jonathan leaves the house for a while, he takes the chance to practice his sewing."

I furrow my eyebrows. "Why do you guys always have to do things behind Jonathan's back?"

Michael shrugs. "He's the type of person who doesn't like seeing anybody potentially enough to be 'better' than him." He quotes with his fingers, his voice echoing through the dark hallway.

"Oh." I replied, "What is this piano doing down here anyway?"

"No clue. Although he said he wanted to get a new one to match the living room's color palette." He chuckles.

We stop in our tracks to find ourselves standing in front of double wooden doors. Michael opens the door and steps aside. "Ladies first." He winks.

I grinned and shyly stepped into the modern-looking basement. This must be the cleanest basement I've ever seen.

Almosy everything was white, except for the cabinets which beautifully contrasted the white walls with a cream color. My eyes immediately fell upon the white piano sitting at the corner of the room. Until I noticed a vault door across the room as well.

"What's in there?" I ask.

Michael closes the door behind him and stands next to me. "The best drugs and weapons you will be able to find.
   Let's carry on to the piano, shall we?"

I didn't say anything and I followed him before we sat next to each other on the piano's stool.
I slightly hesitated. I've never played in front of anyone besides my teacher. I sighed.

"Feeling shy?" Michael teases, nudging my elbow with his. "It's okay, I'll start."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I didn't expect him to know about playing the piano.

His eyes set focus on the keys and gently presses them, releasing a comforting melody.

"I reach out my hand to you..." he begins. I immediately recognized the song by The Jacksons.

"I have faith in all you do..." I shyly sing along, making Michael turn his head to me and smile softly.

We spent the next 5 minutes improvising with this song. It's been a while since I've felt this comfortable while singing along somebody. It was truly wholesome.

"Just let me fill your heart with joy and laughter
Togetherness, well, is all I'm after
Whenever you need me,
I'll be there."

A smile creeps into our faces as soon as we finish that singing session. I must admit I feel incredibly impressed by this man's voice.

"I see you like The Jacksons?" I raise my eyebrows. I could tell he felt uncomfortable by my question.

He giggles awkwardly. "They're my... they're my brothers, actually."

My eyes widen. "What?"

"Yes, Y/N. They're my brothes." He repeats, "I know I don't look like them now, but I used to. Vitiligo happened." He mutters the last sentence, almost inaudible.

"That makes sense. . ." I trail off for a second before speaking again, "Why aren't you with them anymore?"

"I felt like the singing career wasn't meant for me. So I ran away." He twists his lips before pursing them, "The day before recording 'Dancing Machine'."

"Was it really necessary for you to run away?" I ask, confused.

"I preferred it over another ass whooping from Joseph." He laughs.

"Do you regret it?" I question, ". . . running away?"

"Not really. But that life was definitely better than this one, we could all go to jail at any moment." Michael sighs.

"I really want to become a singer." I fiddled with my fingers.

"You have a beautiful voice, Y/N." Michael dared to lift my chin up enough for me to make eye contact with me. "If you have a chance to do so, take it. Do not dare to take it for granted like I did. If it was makes you happy, of course." He backs his hand away from my chin.
I stay silent as I look at the piano's keys.

"My father used to beat me up too. He beat my brothers as well." He continued, "Every single time we made a mistake."

I looked at him, my eyes full of surprise. "Really?"

"How do you think we became a sensation?" He asks, flashing a cocky smile. I scoffed.
"I wonder where I would be if I didn't run away though." He sighs.

"Ever thought about beginning a career of your own?" I suggested, shrugging.

His eyes became full of curiosity and hope as they slightly widened. It didn't last long though, his shoulders slouched. "It's too late, Y/N. This is my life now. I'm either gonna get out of here dead or in prison.
Plus, Jonathan would probably hate me even more than he already does." He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry. . ." I didn't know what else to say. It's such a shame to see this talented man stuck on this criminal lifestyle that it's quite hard to escape from.

"It's okay, Y/N." He flashes a reassuring smile, "Sing for me now." He turns his attention to the piano in front of us. I cleared my throat as the tips of my fingers hesitantly traced over the keys. I took a deep breath before beginning to perform Lana del Rey's "Love"; one of those songs that will forever have a place in my heart. I closed my eyes and pretended I was alone, for I was shy. However, I could feel Michael's intense stare through the entire time I was singing.

Michael's POV
     Y/N's burning passion for singing could be easily identified. Even though I could tell she was shy, her facial expressions demonstrate how much she's into what she's doing. I watched her delicate hands dance across the piano with such love it made me wonder how could someone hurt a girl so gentle; so tender.

"Back to work or the coffee shop
Doesn't matter 'cause it's enough
To be young. . ." She does a long pause before continuing as her fingers shifted onto another set of keys. ". . . and in love."

She became confident enough to look up at me. Her eyes met mine and she gave me a shy smile. I nodded approvingly, making her carry on.

"To be young
and in love . . ." She trails off before moving forward to the next lyrics.

I sighed, becoming angry. Not at her, but myself. How could I be so stupid to let go the best opportunity I've ever had? Once again, this girl was fighting for her dreams while I had everything— every contact, access to recording studios, mentors, choreographers— and decided to let it all go just because I was angry at Joseph.

My sight fell upon her purple cheek, then traveled to the stitches on her arm. She didn't deserve that.

I relate to her in a way that makes me believe we could have the connection I've always wanted with someone, though we just met. This is the only reason why I might not regret running away that day.

Y/N's POV
1:34 pm
Time went by so fast we literally lost track of it. Michael and I spent hours showing off our singing skills to each other. It was a pretty good session. For the first time, I was able to show somebody what I could do without the fear of being made fun of, like my father.

Michael and I's laughter echoed through the hallway while we went up the staircase to the living room. The fun died as soon as we found ourselves standing in front of a disapproving Jonathan. I gulped.

"Jonathan," Michael is surprised. "I thought you said you wouldn't be back until midnight." He gulps.

"Yeah. . . There was a change of plans." Jonathan gave me a stern look. Unconsciously, I stepped behind Michael's shoulder, knowing what was coming.

Alex was watching the whole time. He was still sewing by the time we had this encounter with Jonathan. He held the purple sweater to his chest—his eyes with fright.

"I give you the freedom to walk around as you like, I feed you, I allow you to clean up. . ." Jonathan shakes his head at me, "yet besides fucking up my water bill, you still want to whore around wi-"

"She's not a whore." Michael interrupts him with a stern tone.

This made Murph choke on the cereal with milk he was eating at the kitchen aisle, turning his attention to what was going on. He coughs.

Jonathan scoffs and turns his attention to Michael, "You're defending her now?"

Michael doesn't say anything. He gulps.

"Since when all Mister Bad Boy cares about people now?" Jonathan questions. "When you killed my father you didn't seem care, though."

My eyes widened in disbelief at the thought of Michael actually killing someone.

"That was years ago." Michael clenched his jaw, "Let it go."

"Here's the thing about having a hostage, Mikey. . ." Jonathan begins pacing slowly from one side to another. "They are your hostage, not your friend. So there is no need to help them, make them feel at home, nor bring them hot chocolate to comfort them." He quickly grips my arm, yanking me hard enough for his grip to hurt.

Michael is in front of me now. I look at him but his sight is focused on Jonathan's face. He seems angry.

I try to escape from Jonathan's hand, but it was impossible. He tightened his grip after my attempt.

"You're hurting me, let go!" I cry out. "It's not Michael's fault! I was snooping around and I found the way to the basement and— and saw the piano and—"

"Ah, look at you." Jonathan laughed, "No more than 48 hours and you two already are close enough to defend each other. How cute!" His hand travels to my wrist and grips it hard enough to leave a bruise. My eyes became tearful as Jonathan carried on to holler at Michael what one must do when having a hostage.

"Make them miserable!" Jonathan tells him, "it gets the job done faster. In her case, it doesn't because her parents obviously don't give a shit about her." He looks at me and slaps me across the face. I cried out in pain. That bruise is never going to heal.

"Hostages are nothing. They mean nothing— actually, they do when you torture them enough to get the information you want, which brings me to my previous point. Besides that—" He lets of my wrists, pushing me hard enough to fall on the carpeted floor with a loud thud, "They are nothing."

I sob hopelessly as I lay there. I was weak. It looks like those moments of joy are limited in my life. They're always followed by something tragic.

"Alex, take her to the bedroom and cuff her to the bed." Jonathan steps over me to make his way to the kitchen. "And get this shit out of my living room." He kicks one leg of the table on which Alex's sewing machine sat. It tumbled before Alex quickly held it in place.

I cried nonstop as I forced myself to get up from the floor. Alex had an apologetic, sad look on his face while he waited for me.

"Murph, call Steven to see when he wants his blocks delivered." Jonathan opens a beer can and sips from it.

I followed Alex into the hallway which lead to the guest bedrooms.

"I'm so sorry he did that to you, babe." Alex sighs, closing the door behind him. "I can't imagine the pain you must be going through."

I said nothing. I sniffed and sat on the bed. "Just get the cuffs already."

"I-I made you this sweater." He stutters and pulls out the purple sweater he was sewing earlier. It had a yellow heart which was kind of unsymmetrical but it gave it an unique touch.

I couldn't help but smile at the heartwarming gesture. "I like it, thank you."

Alex smiled, clearly proud of himself. He folds it and places it inside one of the dresser's drawers. "We have to wait a little for Jonathan to forget about this sweater. He hated it and if he sees I made it for you, he'll do the same thing to me like he did to Michael."

"Okay. . ." I agreed. I watched him open the night stand's drawer, where he found the pair of cuffs he was looking for.

"Jonathan's kinky ass has them everywhere." Alex shakes his head. He gently holds my wrist and finishes cuffing me to the bed's headboard.

"Why does Jonathan have to be so aggressive?" I question.

Alex giggles and shakes his head. "Honey, I—"

My eyes widened in fear after my body and Alex's jumped, startled— as soon as we heard the sound of a gunshot echoing through the house.

~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
Heyyy, I know this chapter is kind of short but I didn't want to go on for too long without posting! Online school be a pain in the ass rn lmao.

Anyways, I hope you guys are liking the story so far. I'm really trying my best here. ❤️
I appreciate the comments and the votes!

p.s: don't forget to wash yo damn hands and eat fruit 😤🤠🥴