Chapter Two.

Mimi is pushed over the edge.

It was a good three hours before she had bothered to finish off her coffee, two entire hours of relief after the male employee went home. His stares, condescending and a bad attempt at seduction, had pierced into her skull for at least forty-five minutes straight, no relief from an incoming customer that he had to serve. Still, she decided against complaining to the manager (an old plump woman who absolutely adored the youth) and busied herself, instead, with the interesting shapes that would come about whenever she lightly blew on the surface of her coffee.

The hour was later, now, nine o’clock at night, when Mimi finally gathered up the energy and will to stand, tossing the two empty coffee cups into the nearest waste reciprocal. She pulled her leather jacket on, retied the scarf securely around her neck, before stepping out into the night. Most others would probably find Jarrow, England to be somewhat of a scare during the night hours, but Mimi paid them no mind. She had walked the streets before, almost too often, the only light guiding her way was the dim beams emitted from the street lamps above, more scattered, less frequent the closer to her home she really was. She liked to think she was tough enough to handle any of the thugs that came her way, despite the fact that she was shy of five feet in height, the reason she was so vulnerable. Still, she felt she was tough enough to fend them off - well, at least she had enough wits to outsmart the offender. Perhaps she was just too confident on the matter for her own good.

It wasn’t long before she stepped into the less inviting atmosphere of her home, tension apparent in the air as she was as quiet as possible, slipping her shoes off by the door. Three steps in, confident that she’d be able to make it, she dropped her coat off to the side, careless, too careless.

Almost as though that gesture summoned trouble, a middle-aged woman rounded the corner and into view, her hair pinned messily up, an angered look upon her face.

“Mimi Mae Riter,” scolded to the mother, arms folded across her chest.

“Oh great,” Mimi sighed, slumping against the nearest wall, gently closing her eyes in preparation for what was to come.

“Don’t you take that tone with me,” the brunette snapped, looking down at her daughter, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve got nerve. Rude, I tell you, they were your guests…”

“No,” Mimi calmly interrupted, “they were Nicole’s friends. I, on the other hand, decided to spend my birthday with my friends down at the coffee shop.” In reality, she had simply sat there beneath the constant watch of a pervert. Still, it was better than sitting at home eating store-bought cake with giggling girls and flirtatious guys crowding around her twin. Nothing fun.

“It’s your birthday,” Ms. Riter replied, jaw clenched, “I was nice enough to throw you this party, and you just go blow it off. Do you care at all? Everything’s Mimi. Mimi this, Mimi that. Honestly, we do something nice, but it isn’t what you want, so you just…Leave? Blow it all off? Very mature. You’re fifteen, now. Have some responsibility. I even got your favorite kind of cake.”

She had heard the lecture numerous times, though no matter how many times it was said, she still grew more and more annoyed by it all. None if it was the truth. She wasn’t high maintenance…On the contrary, you could satisfy her with paper, pencil, and coffee. She didn’t even require the company of others, for she was independent enough to the point where she could live without adult supervision. That’s how it felt like she lived, or it would, if it weren’t for the constant put-downs her mother would always shout. She didn’t even /complain/ out loud to her mother - she knew she could have it worse. Yet, all she heard was how everything was about her, when Nicole was the one who got the constant praise. It pissed her off. Absolutely pathetic. Not to mention, she was the most mature of the family…Bull s**t.

“Oh yeah?” Mimi challenged with a c**k of the eyebrow, “What kind of cake then, mum? Chocolate?”

“Of course. What, do you think I’m an idiot? I said we got your favorite, didn’t I?” She took a step back from her daughter, who had slowly started up the stair case once more, climbing one every few seconds.

With a sigh, the youth quietly shook her head. “That’s Ally’s favorite,” she muttered through clenched teeth, “You didn’t even get the right…Just…Whatever.” And, ignoring the profanities and steady scolding’s her mother was spouting off an entire floor below, Mimi climbed the rest of the stairs and exited into her bedroom, slamming the oak door behind her without another passing thought.

Only a half an hour’s time had elapsed and Mimi was curled up on her bed, the four foot eight figure curled up into the smallest of shapes beneath the covers, at least three blankets covering her small frame. So cold, so…bitter cold. She was shivering beneath the pile, and with a delicate whimper she pulled one of the blankets overtop her head. She might as well have been asleep…If only she had been asleep. Things weren’t so frightening if she was unconscious during the event…If only she could sleep…

Ouch…F**k…Dude, stop it! A familiar British man said in a hushed tone, arousing Mimi’s attention. She snapped open her eyes, a hand rising to rest on her temple as she sunk underneath her covers, submerged into complete darkness. The voice, a mixture of old and new, scared her. She would know that voice anywhere…But it wasn’t from her mind, not up until now…And she hadn’t heard it for over a year. Impossible. Her mind was definitely playing tricks on her, she knew it.

I’m not doing anything, hiccupped another, American in accent, giggling as though he were a small girl as opposed to the older man he really sounded like. Words slurred, he continued, You were the one who…A hiccup…dragged me in here.

You need to stop getting so damn intoxicated, Bowers, they’re going to start suspecting…Though, before he could continue, a large guffaw emitted from the American. No wonder she wasn’t fond of those with that nationality, despite the fact that they were derived from her own northern European descent. She curled up even more, sticking a finger in her mouth to keep herself from whimpering aloud.

They don’t care. They never truly cared. I can drink all I want, you know. I’m dead. I been dead for ten years, now. You only been dead for like, a year. You’ll learn. Don’t worry about me. Just…He stopped abruptly, sucking in a sharp intake of breath.

What’s this one thinking…Whispered the man who’s voice she craved, though his tone was coated with loose worry that puzzled her slightly.

I don’t know, the other laughed, almost too loud, They one of them. He sang out the last bit, humming a small, brief tune.

Another…But…F**k. We have to…C’mon, get up, we’re going. The hurried voice of the British snapped up the demand, and Mimi could definitely hear his breathing, now, as well as the voice. She flipped over to dig her face into the pillow to clear her mind, drown out the sounds, the voices, but the drunken was almost determined not to let that happen.

Damage is already done! He cheered, Why should we hide now? Let’s…Let’s talk to her.

Who is it? Snapped the sober, his voice growing only slightly distant, his breathing becoming heavier and more shallow than ever before.

Some brat, no doubt…She isn’t talking to us. She probably isn’t…Probably thinks she’s…Crazy. There was a loud, disruptive, sudden laugh that caused Mimi to outwardly jump - thinks she’s crazy? After hearing the voice of her father, who was supposed to be dead, beaten and victimized by the collision of oncoming traffic, she knew she was crazy. Great. Spending her days as one of those special patients, complaining, moaning about how the voices would tell them obscure comments…To think of her being brought down to such a level was absurd, but then again, she was most definitely…Not normal. Unless she was…Dreaming…

Then let’s leave it at that. Come on. Come…Bowers, get off your lazy a*s and get out of here! With that last single comment, all noise disappeared, and once more, silence was eminent, as was the fact that Mimi’s small frame was quavering beneath the covers as her mind searched for any source of information, wanting nothing more than an explanation for what was going through her mind.

Dreaming. For now, she was convinced that it was all a dream…For it was easier to accept that it was simply an extremely real dream than it was to accept what could very well be the truth. Her eyelids once more hid her hazel eyes as she disappeared once again into the world that, as far as she was concerned, she had never left. Perfectly awful in every way.

Author's Note

I will probably be expanding the first two chapters and combining them.