Dead End

Mikan, now nineteen, has long since escaped the grasp of Alice Academy. She has left that world of deceit and lies behind her for good; Alice Academy, and her life there, never existed. But even she knows that no-one ever escapes the Academy.

Chaos: I was planning on withholding this chapter a little longer, but I couldn't resist updating. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews are GREATLY appreciated.

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Chapter 1; Five Simple Words

Night: when the world fades away into shadows; when the sun cannot bear to look any longer; when the light recedes into only a few crevices to preserve itself. Under the rule of night, darkness can take control, and under the control of darkness, those who hide shadows inside themselves can come out to play at long last. No one can see them, cloaked in darkness, and under the cover of that darkness, these shadows can take over.

But, unbeknownst to Mikan, something worse than shadows had been unleashed on this winter evening; old enemies were stirring and little by little, her worst fears were coming to life and edging closer to her with every passing moment.

"Is this it?" An emotionless voice rang out, shattering the silence

"Unmistakably." came the reply.

A flickering lamp illuminated two figures. Normally, in such poor light, it would be impossible to distinguish any colours but their clothes seemed to shape a void: complete blackness coated their whole body, like tar. There was a chilling aura surrounding both the men as they stood, stock still, their eyes fixed on the block of apartments. Had anyone been present at this time, they would have most likely been struck dumb with fear; for, without moving, without speaking, they commanded an air that any petty criminal would die for.

Wordlessly, the two men crossed the street. They seemed to merge into their surroundings, but as they reached the porch of the building a new light glared down at them, more powerful than the previous. They stopped, turning their attention to the wall. Perfect. Raising a gloved finger, one man, who, it was now clear, wore a mask sculpted in the shape of a feline face, ran his finger down a list of names. His finger halted abruptly.

"We've found you now…" he whispered, his eyes glinting beneath the mask, "Mikan Sakura!"

*

"Cooker, dishwasher, heater…"

The chink of metal on metal pierced the silence as Mikan jingled the keys in her fingers. Was there anything she'd forgotten? She pressed her lips together, mentally running through the list again; she knew too well just how forgetful she could be. Once, Kojima-san, her boss, had asked her to look after her dog while she was away. Easy enough, she'd thought; it turned out the dog had to go with her everywhere, which was enough trouble in itself. One day, she'd popped down to the supermarket for her groceries and had driven off leaving the poor animal still tied up outside the shop. It hadn't been until Kojima-san had phoned to check up on the pooch that Mikan had realised!

She shook her head, pulling her head away from idle reveries. She hadn't forgotten anything, she was sure. Nodding to herself, she cast one last glance at the empty café. The chairs were upside-down, perched somewhat dangerously on the edges of the tables; everything was clean and tidied away. It seemed a little lonely, she thought, without the chatter of students brightening the atmosphere.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at her own sentimentality. Honestly. She'd always been like this; overly emotional and soppy. When she'd been little, she had always been the one that had collapsed into fits of giggles – often the only one – and she'd often given into bursts of sobbing and wailing. She wondered where all that had gone. Old Mikan… She somewhat missed that childish, wailing girl… but at least now she had a little more control.

Slipping out of the café, the bell chiming its farewell, she was met by a blast of icy air. She hadn't realised how cold it was. Suppressing a shudder, she fumbled with the keys and, after having locked the door, started her walk home.

She didn't live far from the café, but it was still a while's walk away. Her current abode was a modest one-bedroom apartment and, albeit it needed some work, it had everything she needed. Of course, she wouldn't have minded something a little less worn and run-down but her flat had served her well over the past year or so; she couldn't ask for much more. And nor could she afford much more; it was hard enough finding a place to live on such a low and unpredictable income, let alone a decent place.

At least, she thought, it protected her from this blasted cold. Mikan had never liked winter; it was her least favourite season. Winter stripped the trees bare and left them naked to be ravaged by cold; winter brought gusts of wind which, like knifes, seemed to pierce her very being; winter chased all life into itself, and forced people indoors. Not to mention, since she'd moved north it had only got worse! Not only was it colder, but it was also darker. Mikan had never really got over her fear of the dark; anything could be lurking… anywhere.

Shivering, she cast a wary glance about her. She felt so bare; a lone girl wandering the streets in the dark. Albeit the city was still booming with life, her route room was quite the opposite, leading her down old cobbled roads, past dank alleys, and, in truth, her end of town wasn't the safest. It was no wonder that she'd found such a cheap flat.

Her high heels clacked noisily on the concrete, ringing through the air like a gong. She didn't like feeling this conspicuous – like a target. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she quickened her pace, headlines taunting her in the back of her mind. She swallowed. Was it her imagination, or had she just heard footsteps?! Her eyes darted to and fro frantically; she was already trying to resist hyperventilating, and quite clearly struggling.

MIKAN! SHUT UP!! she reprimanded herself inwardly, trying to silence the paranoia screaming in her head.

She did that a lot. Her mind seemed to go off on a rampage, but over the years she'd learned to shut it off. She didn't want to hear the things her mind had to tell her; she didn't want to know. The things lurking inside her terrified her far beyond the fear struck into her by the newspaper's tales of murderers and rapists. Inside her own head was the most dangerous place right now, but, unlike out in the streets, she had nowhere to shelter. She was constantly exposed.

It was a relief when she reached her building; she was scaring herself. In a hurry to get inside, safe and warm, she overlooked the curious contraption clinging to the porch wall. It watched her with its beady red light as she stabbed the keypad aggressively, her breath streaming from her lips in ribbons of mist. It watched as she awaited the answering beep. It watched as she scrambled to get in through the door, slamming to after her, as if she could lock her fears out. And it continued to watch, even as she disappeared from view up a series of steps inside the building.

When she finally reached the security of her own apartment, she slid her bag from her shoulder, allowing it to land on the floor with a thud. She kicked off her boots, tugged off her coat, and dumped everything in a heap by her door, scraping it to the side with her feet. Typical lazy Mikan. Without need of a prompt from her stomach, Mikan made her way to her fridge, and, much to her delight, found some strawberry yoghurt to chow down on. Satisfied, she grabbed a spoon and threw herself down on the sofa in her pathetic excuse of a living room.

Indeed, there was nothing separating the living room and the kitchen, but really, was it necessary? There was a door to the bathroom, and to her bedroom, so she got all the privacy she needed. Besides, she lived like a slob; every room looked the same when Mikan lived there. Clothes, clothes, clothes – plus several pairs of knickers and occasionally an artistically placed bra… On the sofa, behind the sofa, on the TV, on the table, under the bed, on the toilet (Mikan had a habit of throwing her clothes without aiming whenever she went for a shower or bath – she always kept the toilet lid down for that very reason) and so on so forth. Glasses littered the table, and crumb coated plates lined her bed. Had she even ever vacuumed this place? She doubted it. It was no kind of surprise that Mikan rarely had company.

Shoving a pair of socks off the coffee table, she rested her feet on its surface and reached forward for the remote. Then she froze. That wasn't right, she realised, narrowing her eyes. How had that happened? Could it be…? She couldn't help but glance around anxiously for, sprawled unceremoniously across the floor and under the table, was her post. She hadn't done that… had she? She could have sworn she hadn't. Frowning, she leaned done to pick up the jumble of letters, scrutinising them; nothing seemed out of place, and a few seconds later, as she began picking open the envelopes, she had already passed it off on her own idiocy. Had she taken the time to read her mail earlier that morning she would have noticed, as she leafed through the letters one by one, that one letter was missing, but unfortunately she had woken late, barely able to squeeze time in for breakfast, let alone reading any mail, and, as it was, she noticed nothing.

"Bills… Bills… BILLS!"

She grabbed the pile of letters and chucked it at the wall, watching as it split into a myriad of envelopes of all shapes and sizes. She couldn't keep living like this! She'd nearly sucked her bank account dry; she had nothing left, nothing but the tiny income from the café, and that wasn't going to support her for much longer. She hadn't paid her rent, and the bills just kept coming in. She didn't know what to do! Soon she was going to be living in a real dumpster, and there was nothing she could do about it!

When she'd first stepped out into the reality that was minimum wages and late-night shifts, she'd raided her bank account. Every last penny her grandpa had tucked away to ensure her future; she took it all. At the time, it had seemed like so much! She'd felt so optimistic about her fresh start. But then the world dealt her a cruel blow, dragging her forcefully back to reality. She discovered how difficult it really was to find a steady income at sixteen and she realised just how little the money was in the long run. She could only watch as the pennies disappeared one by one, and the notes crumbled away into nothing. And just like that, she found herself fighting for survival.

She'd spent nights on the street before. It was terrifying: the strange noises, the frightening people… It made her feel sick. Beggars had already reserved their porches for the night, but she had not. Forced out in the open, without any shelter, she huddled by the suitcase that housed her belongings. No one paid much heed to the girl sleeping on the pavement, except… Sometimes drunkards would come stumbling by, barely able to see straight. She would hide her place, praying that they wouldn't notice her… But sometimes… they did. The stench of alcohol clung to their breath whenever they leaned forward to get a closer look of this girl. What could she be doing here? They would mutter some vulgar comment to their group; they would shout the most vile things at her. Once… they'd even suggested… It was disgusting! Just disgusting!

Bringing her knees up to her chin, she hugged herself tightly. Why?! Why was it so difficult?!

She mustn't cry! She could make it through this; she'd survived everything else. But even as she thought that, the tears were already searing her eyes. She felt them trickle down her face, and heard them drop onto her jeans, her body trembling. She hated this feeling! She hated crying… She could see herself in the window opposite, the darkness throwing her reflection back at her with twice the clarity. She didn't want to meet the puffy, red eyes of the girl in the glass; she didn't want to see how pathetic she looked, but slowly, she raised her own eyes, and saw the miserable girl staring solemnly back at her

"You're twice as ugly when you cry." a voice told her – a memory…

"Get out of my HEAD!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. The coffee table screeched in protest as it was forced away, but she didn't care. Nor did she care as the yoghurt pot, couple with the spoon, toppled to the floor. She paid no heed as, like spray from a crashing wave, droplets of yoghurt soared through the air. She didn't care about any of it!

Why were those memories still with her?! She had tried and tried to forget, but never did they leave her, like scars, ugly scars. They followed her like shadows, yet they spoke to her in her dreams as if they were alive. Why couldn't she escape?! She'd left all that behind three years ago! Why wouldn't it let go?! She threw herself on her bed, unable to vent her frustration and sorrow; all her feelings, with nowhere to go, were trapped inside her. Why couldn't she just be free?!

She stared at the girl in the glass. The girl stared back. Her eyes were haunted with demons of the past. It was like they were mocking her; lulling her into a false sense of security before creeping up on her and shattering the fragile confidence she'd created. They preyed on her mind day and night; how long would it take before they let go?

"I guess I'd better clean that up…" she murmured, drawing her mind away from those morbid thoughts. Her heart felt heavy, like it had been replaced with a paperweight, as she scrubbed the carpet. She rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, friction heating the damp cloth. Even when she'd finished, she could still see the yoghurt stains; discoloured blotches on the floor. She sighed; it wasn't worth it. This place was cheap anyway.

Exhaustion pulling her eyelids, she plodded into her bathroom to brush her teeth. As she splashed her face, the taste of mint lingering on her tongue, she glared at her reflection – she had to pull herself together. Finally, she went into her bedroom and, grabbing her pyjamas, dumped herself down heavily on the mattress.

Then she heard a papery tap as something fell from the bed. Raising her tear-stained face, her eyes, blurry with fatigue, made out a small envelope. She dropped her pyjamas, a chill running down her spine; she knew, beyond doubt, she knew she hadn't left anything like that in here. Someone had been here; in her flat, in her room. She couldn't prevent her hand from shaking as she took hold of the little white envelope. It had no name on the front, but it was clear who it was meant for. Her fingers felt numb as she ripped it open and pulled out the contents.

As if she were holding a chunk of metal fresh from the furnace, she recoiled immediately, clutching her hands like she had scalded herself. No! It couldn't be…! She almost choked on her tears when she saw that face beaming up at her; those eyes gazing into hers, trapped behind the shiny material of the photo paper. It was her mother. Her face split into a hideous grimace, sobs convulsing her body. Don't look at me! DON'T LOOK AT ME! She couldn't bear to see that face any longer. Was this supposed to be a cruel joke?! Please, stop it! Stop looking! It was tearing at her bit by bit; she could feel that picture boring into her, clawing through her defences. Stop! Stop! STOP! She couldn't take this! She couldn't bear this any longer! When she thought she was going to scream, she finally flipped the paper over.

But what she saw was much worse. Five simple words, only five, simple words, but they ripped through her like a hurricane.

I know what you did.

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Hmm~ How was that? I'll bet you're wondering what's going on! I was too, for a while. I didn't really think this story through when I started writing it (which was a bit risky), but it's all coming together now. I'm actually quite excited about it! I hope you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! :D

Please, review! I really want to hear what you guys think about this story; and I always find it so encouraging when I get a review, particularly a long one! I'm happy to hear your thoughts, and I'm open to any criticism! Please, fire away!

My next update might be rather more delayed that this one. I hope not, but school starts tomorrow so I'll be a lot busier! I'll try not to disappoint!

~Chaos