Finally, I've beat my writer's block. And I ended up with this. I'm trying to write a good long fic that doesn't turn into crap, like all my other long ones. Do tell me if it's any good or not. There'll be some big surprises in up coming chapters, and I'll update as often as I can. Oh, and please please please review! It's what keeps me going :-D

I Never Promised You A Rose Garden
(Title taken from a song of the same name by the Suicide Machines)


Mimi watched her cracked, red, bleeding hands react to the seemingly never ending rain. They were held inches above a tarnished doorknob and didn't seem to want to make the commitment. She watched the rain wash the traces of blood down her hands, so it made patterns across her arms. They shook slightly, but only from the effort of holding them in a position which hurt so much. This is ridiculous, she thought. Her hands, almost fearing her command, flew to the doorknob. As she turned it, she watched her arms with a rapt fascination. Track free. It was such a glorious sight, seeing her mulatto skin smooth and pale and clean. The door clicked open.
I'm home. She called once inside the door. A few notes from a stray guitar could be heard wafting through the apartment. They stopped abruptly. Footsteps followed. Mimi didn't move, she wanted to enjoy this moment. This is what she came back for, right? This eternal bliss?
Her lover said, a half smile gracing his features. He stepped into her and kissed her on the lips. He was warm, a sharp contrast from the outside. How was your day? He never broke eye contact. He sure was gorgeous, perhaps that was why she loved him.
Good. And yours? Mimi returned the smile as best she could. Her hands stung under his. He noticed her wince.
What's wrong?

Tell me. Mimi didn't answer. He looked at her with a concerned expression. She wondered if he really cared. Why won't you tell me? Still nothing. He squeezed her hands gently and she bit her lip despite herself. Your hands... He commented, piecing it together and holding them up to his face. Why didn't you say something? This looks really painful...
It's nothing. She yanked them away from him and tucked them under her sleeves.
Come now, I have some lotion. He disappeared, leaving Mimi alone with her thoughts for a few moments. The apartment loomed around her, shaming her with it's large white walls and her little dark self standing in the middle. She could almost hear her heartbeat pound off the walls and she commanded it to be quiet. But it was not as cooperative as her hands. What made her this nervous?
Okay here we go. Roger said, squeezing some of the white substance onto his hands. It looked like milk. Suddenly, Mimi longed for a tall glass of milk. How long had it been since she had milk?
He lifted her hands into his and massaged them gently. Her heart beat faster. Was it this contact? Was she back in freshman year and the boy who she had a crush on had handed her his pencil, their hands brushing in the process? Was it like that? She hoped not. The lotion felt good, nice and cool.
Where did you get this? They hadn't had money for much in a long time, things like lotion seemed trivial when they could use that for something more important.
I have my sources. He smiled. Don't worry, it's legit.
She smiled back.
Here, let's get you into some warm clothes. This could be it. Roger made her feel safe and happy, warm like she had a place to belong. Someone who cared. And one is better than none.
He led her back through the apartment and into the bedroom. He helped her out of her wet clothes, his big hands doing it carefully, skillfully, as they had done countless times before. He lay her on the bed and kissed her sweetly. She was a child again. She never had to do anything. Mimi listened to the rain pound on the thin roof. Her hands stung.