Chapter One.

The introduction of the main character, Mimi, and her confusion in regards to the 'curse'.

Lounging casually upon the sofa, her legs spread out over two of the three burgundy cushions that sat idly beneath her, the girl’s eyes were closed, peacefully resting without the burden of those she called ‘family and friends’. They weren’t worth her time, nor was anyone else - they were all friends of her sister, anyways. There was no point in her being there, anyways. It’s not like she found any point in celebrating birthdays, anyways.

“Mimi!” A British woman called from two rooms away, her tone distraught, frustrated, “Come in here! We’re about to sing Happy Birthday to you and Nicole!” A few giggles and a violent shush, before the entire house grew silent aside from the clattering of utensils against plates, which hardly aroused the female from her peaceful state.

Another strict call of her name, though this time from a younger, more friendly tone, and she shot up - no point in sticking around here anymore. Mimi pushed herself up to her feet and crossed the length of the room and into the foyer, plopping herself on the linoleum to slip on her worn shoes, striped with an alternating pattern of black and pink, clashing with every outfit she owned. Footsteps could be heard, growing more rapid and louder with every step, and Mimi was up, out the door before her mother could comment on her little disappearing act, snatching both a jacket and a scarf on her way out.

Hands shoved into the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt, she looked ahead in determination, a build of darker clouds building up into the distance. She never seemed to pay any mind - her hair looked no worse wet than it did dry, she wore no make up to run, and she lost all desire to complain about precipitation long before. Some birthday this was.

They weren’t your friends. None of them were your friends, hissed a voice, colder than the chill air that made the short hairs upon her arms stand on end. Most would be concerned if a random voice simply popped up into their head, informing them of something they already knew. Then again, most had no common sense, and therefore would immediately rule out the possibility that they were making the voices up, forcing themselves to believe something was there that, in all honesty, never existed at all. After all, she already knew it, it was completely possible for her to just make something like that up.

Then again, Mimi found it hard to believe that her mind, no matter how twisted it may seem to the normal, could create a voice so bitter, so malicious on her own free will. A psychological disorder, something that would be labeled as ‘crazy’ to someone with a poor vocabulary, was completely possible, she felt, just for that…Voice. It wasn’t as though that was the only voice that echoed in her mind, because it wasn’t, just that single voice frequented, hopefully on the right side of the brain. She was already strange enough without the company of voices to follow her around the rest of her life. Then again, she had lived with them for about a year, now, and sometimes they’ve proved to be helpful. They were more of a pain, though, than anything else.

“I know,” Mimi muttered beneath her breath, viciously aiming a kick at a small pebble which flew out of view into a sea of grass, ignoring the inquiring expressions that others were aiming at her. A light wind swept through and a shudder shot through her spine, the black curls obscuring her vision, and she busied herself by pushing the fly-away strands behind her ear, revealing her youthful features, though with a somewhat mature air about them, one that most other fifteen year olds did not possess - the kind of a maturity that some might never possess, and the fact that she was fifteen going on thirty was simply a boost to her unusually poor ego.

With a gradual change in scenery, she found that her feet took her right where she wanted to be - the small, quaint coffee shop on the outskirts of town, where she frequented at to the point where everyone there knew her name. She had befriended the majority of her fellow regulars (the youngest of which a twenty-five year old Cambridge graduate, majored in the field of Psychology) more than she had her other friends, but there was no way on earth she’d bother with inviting /them/ to something as pointless and as mediocre as a birthday. Honestly, fifteen was no special milestone in the girl’s life, and she knew that she’d only be pleased when she reached the age of eighteen and could legally get completely smashed at her own free will. Until then, though, what was the point?

She entered into the warm, comforting atmosphere of the café, unwinding the checkered scarf from around her neck to allow it to hang limp, shedding the comfort of her warm leather jacket, allowing the scent of coffee to take its’ place, drawing her near as she slung the jacket over the back of the chair she always sat in, approaching the counter. Curiously, she scanned the new employee up and down. Someone new to break in. Perfect.

“What’ll it be?” the male asked, a smug grin on his face as he rested both hands, palm-down, upon the counter top, looking down at the small girl.

Mimi cocked an eyebrow, not really sure how she should be taking his initial reaction to her presence. She wrapped an arm overtop her stomach and took a step back, taking in this man’s scruffy, messy appearance. It was a wonder how easily these jobs were handed out sometimes.

Pedophile, echoed the voice, almost too cheerful for her own good, the laughter ringing out inside her head. She almost expected someone to hear it, to attract attention from the man behind the counter, though sure enough his expectant grin was never-fading, though he seemingly inched closer to her during her time distracted. She took yet another step back, waiting to see if there was an elaboration to follow. There normally was.

He’s checking out your chest, dear. Hurry up and order before he rips your shirt off or something. Don’t want to see a pretty little thing like you get hurt, now. Yeah, like Mimi needed his help. The help of a voice that may or may not be produced by her subconscious. The voice of something that was sure to haunt her yet again when the night reigned over any trace of daylight that might have shown. Great.

“Give me a large coffee, black, load it over with sugar,” she instructed harshly, scowling up at the man, though his awfully strange, creepy sort of stare never wavered. The grin on his face widening, he finally straightened up and turned around, his back to her as he prepared her beverage of choice.

He thinks ‘coffee’ is code for ‘excited’, ‘black’ is code for dark rooms, ‘sugar’ is code for f*****g, the voice joked, the maniacal laughter distracting her once again as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. That man better not be so stupid to think that she would ever be alone with him for five seconds, let alone to snog the man. If she were going to have sexual relations with another man, at the very least he wouldn’t come equip with such a beer gut.

The man turned around and, as Mimi reached into her pocket to pull out a crumpled up piece of paper money, though he simply shook his head. “On the house,” he smirked, and Mimi furrowed her brow.

“Bloody hell, get a life you god damn son of a b***h pervert,” Mimi snapped, pocketing the money once again, snatching the coffee angrily, ignoring the fact that a bit of the scorching hot beverage just spilled out and into her wrist, intent on making it to her chair.

He thinks you’re eight, the voice laughed, explaining the bewildered look on the man’s face. Honestly, what eight year old would ever spout off that severe of a comment in response to something so mild, so subtle. Then again, the man was obviously an idiot - honestly, what eight year old would have such distinct womanly features? Obviously if he was checking her out, he ought to have noticed her figure…

But the voice may not be real. She might be making them up for her own self benefit without knowing it. So he probably noticed the figure, much to her dismay.

Settling back into her chair, comfortable and cozy, she curled up with her back to the door; nobody interesting was going to enter, therefore she felt zero need to bother with watching. She sipped at the beverage, jumping and gently whimpering as she burnt her tongue - every damn time. Pathetic. She rested two fingers overtop her extended tongue, an almost sad look gracing her features as she curled up even further. It was just like her to do something as stupid as that.

Way to go. A chuckle. Mimi closed her eyes, bowing her head…It was times such as these that she absolutely couldn’t stand whatever was causing her to hear any random thing under the sun. Not fair…Not fair at all.