Always the Red Summer Sun

[kittens1234]

DistantWords wrote:Chapter One: The Old Mimi

Mimi was dead.

It was barely two in the morning, that fateful summer day, when the Chesterville Hospital nurse, Miss Erin Gordons, with the cold smile and nasty voice, called.

Of course, I was shocked. Miss Erin Gordons hadn’t said a single kind word to me in the time we dropped Mimi off at the hospital, yet she was calling us outrageously early to inform us that Mimi was dead.

Mimi was dead…

Mimi was dead.

I couldn’t wrap my head around that sentence…Mimi was dead. Why didn’t that sound right? All those treatments and Mimi was dead…?

Oh, GOD!

Mimi was DEAD!

I remember it clearly. You don’t really forget the day your best friend dies. I crumpled to the floor and sobbed my heart out. Mimi could have been my sister. I remembered sitting on park benches with her…eating ice cream with her…running in the sprinkler with her…listening to her mother yell at us because we tracked mud in the kitchen for the thousandth time…

And all that was gone.

Why?

Because Mimi was dead.

And early that morning, three years ago, I slunk into my bedroom and sobbed myself to sleep. There was no other option. I had planned so much. We were going to go to DisneyWorld together the week she was found, almost lifeless, hanging on by a fraying thread, her hair smoking, singed off, as she laid there burning in the road.

But I didn’t believe either of them. Mimi Fieldworth, my best friend and almost-sister, didn’t do any of those things. She wouldn’t. I know her. Mimi Fieldworth wouldn’t do that.

The funeral was short and bitter. Her parents sobbed to the crowd, talking about how much they’d miss her. I didn’t cry at all, that funeral. Well, once I cried. It was real soft and real quiet. It was when they lowered her body into the coffin. I didn’t cry because I was going to miss her. I was quietly dying inside, because I was going to miss her. But the reason why I cried was because she looked terrible. Half her hair was gone. Burned off. Her skin was patchy, some spots were fine and other spots were singed black, fried to nothing. Her eyebrows were burned off. And yet her family had dressed her in a perfect white dress. Simple and pure. Strapless with lace and ribbon running all over the dress. And I cried. I cried.

I promised myself I would keep going, for Mimi Fieldworth.

My name is Serah Good, and as of July 8th, three years ago, I will never die.

Well.
That touches home.
A lot.
Its all happened to me, 'cept for the vampire part.