A/N: I never thought I'd write a Mimi fic (not beacuse I don't like her, I really, really do), but this just sort of wrote itself. Please review, it means a lot to me.
Thanks to burn to emerge for helping me with the editing!
Disclaimer: I don't own Rent.
Tough As Life
'Rehab', they say, shuffling their feet back and forth, shifting their gaze around the room; anywhere but at me. Not wanting to accuse me - and that's almost the most painful part. Just wanting to save me. Rehab or you'll die.
Rehab and I'll die.
---
I remember a time when I used to hide my track marks. Ashamed of myself, of what I had become. Dance, Mimi. Dance and forget. Let the dance save you from yourself.
"You can do it," Mark insists, vibrant blue eyes focused carefully on his always-present camera. Hiding his eyes from the track marks, ashamed of what the world made me do. "Roger went through it and he's been clean ever since. I know you can do it too. It'll be hard but you're strong."
Strong Mimi, brave Mimi. Living without it won't kill you; there was a time when you didn't need it at all. You were strong then, weren't you?
"You're weak," my father once told me. "You'll never be good enough for anything."
Dance and show the world your smile. Smile as big as you can and he won't know how it hurts.
"I don't want you in this house anymore," were his 'happy birthday' wishes when I turned 15. "I don't want you to bring me anymore shame."
The street was tough for a 15-year old girl, but you were strong Mimi. Smile and they'll believe it. Smile and hide the track marks. The world loves a winner.
It's your own fault that you're in this position, I force myself to acknowledge every painful night. No one forced the needle into you're arm.
But life was too tough for the little girl. The girl became tough as life. The needle helped, it really did. No regrets. I was strong. I was wrong.
It still helps sometimes.
"Stop using, Mimi," Roger pleads, rubbing his own arms when he sees my tracks. "If not for your own sake, do it for me."
'Do it for him,' I tell myself, looking into those green eyes that I love more than anything.
Dance Mimi, let it save you. Dance and you won't need it.
"I'll try." I tell him, just to see his smile. It's worth it all, even if it's a lie. Just to see him smile.
Withdrawal. Painful, aching, agonizing withdrawal. How many times have I been here? How many times have I tried to stop just to in the end…fail. The world loves a winner but I've come to the realization that I'm simply the biggest failure. Can't even control my own body. I can't stop myself from once again sneaking out into the forbidden alleyways. I'm turning into the lying, selfish junkie I never was. A junkie, maybe, but I never had enough emotional attachments to hurt anyone with my drug use. Anyone besides myself.
Roger doesn't say anything. His eyes say it all. Disappointment, hurt, resignation. No anger, and that's the worst thing of all. 'I tried to save you.'
Look away Mimi. Be strong. You don't want to see that expression on his face anymore. Failure. Dance Mimi, dance and forget about it all. Forget regret or…
Do I have a life? Is this really what life is about?
Life is yours to miss…
I remember when I stopped hiding my tracks, stopped being ashamed. I had the biggest smile on my lips and I could fool them all.
'Life is too short for grieving,' I told myself, the test results shaking slightly in my grip. (Positive, positive, positive.) No more regrets, no more negative thoughts. Be proud girl, 'cause you're tough like the world. Be as positive as the blood that runs through your veins.
Then I met Roger and life was perfect for a few heartbeats. Trusting desire, letting it consume me. Those warm arms, melting the walls around the strong girl. 'You can fall now, Mims, 'cause I'll catch you.'
But the shame came back full force. I'm hiding the track marks again, hiding though I know they can see right through me.
"Almost everyone fails when they try to stop by themselves," Marks says, comforting the girl who used to be tough as life. "You need to go to a rehab."
Roger nods at Mark's comment. His face is turned away from me; these days he can't even look at me without squirming in discomfort. He doesn't want to condemn me, he just wants to save me.
"I wish you didn't have to go there," Roger says finally, his voice trembling. "But I think it's the only way for you to get better."
'I can try,' I want to tell him, but no more lies. Shudder, shiver, shake. The cravings are coming back. No. They've never really gone, I've just been able to suppress the effects from the others. No more. I can't afford to be strong.
'Rehab,' They say, shuffling their feet, shifting their gaze away from me. Rehab or you'll die.
Rehab and I'll die.
Dance Mimi, dance, and when your legs gives way under you, keep smiling and you'll still be able to fool them all.