"Mimi, what happened? Let me in!" Roger banged his fists against the door,
repeatedly.
"Just go away, Roger!" Mimi yelled from the other side of the door.
"Mimi, would you just fucking talk to me?" Roger exclaimed. "What happened?"
Mimi sighed and slowly sank to her knees, leaning her head against the door.
"Mimi?"
***
"Joel," Conchita said softly, standing to her feet.
"Save it, Conchita," he growled, softly. "Did you know where she was all this time? Or did she just appear on your doorstep like some stray dog?"
"Stop it, Joel," Conchita said, through gritted teeth.
"You've been hiding things from me, haven't you? I bet you knew where Daisha has been all this time too."
Anger flashed in his eyes. "You think these games are funny?"
"Joel, please," Conchita begged, trying to make him listen.
"Shut up, Conchita. You're just a fucking bother, anyway."
"Fuck you, Joel."
"WHAT did you say to me?" he demanded, turning to face Mimi.
"You heard what I said," Mimi snapped, her fists clenching.
"Yeah, I heard what you said," Joel growled, walking towards her. "I heard you mouthing off to me. That's the way it always was, wasn't it? You girls at the public school would go off and have a good fuck, and then come back just in time to talk shit to their parents. Is that it?"
"Joel, PLEASE," Conchita pleaded, horrified and both admirable of her daughter's bravery.
"You aren't my father. You never were," Mimi hissed.
"You better watch it, bitch," Joel warned.
"No YOU better watch it! Daisha told me the reason why she left home. You were hitting her AND you're a perverted drunk. How do you think the police would like it if I told them you were committing sexual harassment?"
"Is that what she told you?" Joel growled, grabbing her by her upper arms, is nails digging into her skin, glaring down at her. He was a full head taller than her.
Mimi looked right back at him. She was tired of being pushed around by him.
"Didn't I always tell you you were going to get it if you kept talking smack to people?"
"All that ever came out of your mouth was shit, Joel. You treat my mother, my sisters, and me like shit. That's what you ARE. You're just a worthless piece of shit.
Mimi saw her mother's terrified look out of the corner of her eye.
"You're really asking for it this time," Joel snickered, and without warning, his hand came up out of nowhere, connecting roughly with her cheekbone.
"JOEL! ¡PARADA! STOP!" Conchita screamed, but Joel pushed her away.
Wearily, Mimi raised her hand to touch her stinging cheek, lightly.
"Bastardo," she mumbled, and then raised her fist to strike HIM. But Joel was too quick for her. He grabbed her wrist before she could make contact with his face, and twisted it painfully behind her back.
"Now you listen," he hissed. "I don't want to see you here ever again. I want you to go straight home, and tell that little two-faced sister of yours to get her ass home, or else. Do you understand?" he demanded, yanking her arm up, making her knees buckle from under her.
"DO YOU?"
"Joel, por favor," Conchita had started to sob. At that moment, Rosa had entered the room too see what all the commotion was, and she stood in the doorway, her mouth open in shock.
"Fuck you Joel," Mimi said, through gritted teeth, her eyes tearing with the pain.
"You just don't get it. You and your mother. Las rameras."
With that, he gave a disgusted grunt, and forcefully shoved her against the wall, banging her head in the process.
Mimi huddled against the wall, holding her head and closing her eyes tightly, trying to bear the searing pain in her head.
"I can't take this now," Joel mumbled. "I need a drink."
Mimi heard his footsteps running out the front door, and then she heard it slam behind him.
The sound of the door slamming seemed to make Conchita snap out of the trance she was in, and she rushed to Mimi's side.
"Chica," she murmured. ¿Usted es bien?Are you hurt?"
"I don't think so," Mimi mumbled, running her head with the back of her hand, ignoring the pain. She seemed to be losing a lot of brain cells lately this week.
"You're brave, Mimi," Conchita whispered, shaking her head. "Brave, but crazy. What were you thinking? You know how crazy he gets."
"I'm tired of fearing him, Mama," Mimi said, in a tired voice. "You don't like to admit it, but I know he treats you badly. I hate him," she spat.
"But you can't fight him, Chica. He's a stubborn crazy soul. And he can be dangerous. You shouldn't taunt him like that."
"I know," Mimi said, "But I'm just tired of being the weakling all the time. I needed to stand up to him."
"Even if it would get you killed?"
Mimi shrugged.
Conchita sighed. "Usted es muy valiente, Mimi. Muy loco."
"I'm sorry, Mama."
"I'm sorry too, Chica," Conchita whispered, as she wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.
***
"That fucker. I'll murder him!" Roger practically shouted.
Mimi opened the door, finally allowing him to see her.
"There's nothing you can do, Roger," she said, sadly.
"If I ever see him," Roger promised. "He's a dead man."
He walked over to her, tipping her head back gently, and lightly touched the tender area on her face where Joel had hit her with his fingers.
"Roger, please," Mimi whispered, bringing his hand down.
"I should have been with you. If I had come with you, like I promised, none of this would have ever happened."
"None of what, Roger? Even if you had come, Joel still would have been there. And you wouldn't have stopped me from saying those things to him. He needed to hear it from me."
"But I could have stopped him . . . from hurting you."
"Roger, I'm fine. It's just a scratch," Mimi lied.
"It's not just a scratch, Mimi. And you said you hit your head on the wall? Do you want me to take you to a hospital?"
"Stop fucking babying me," Mimi snapped, suddenly. "I don't need to go to the hospital. Besides, you have your gig now. I can't get in the way of that." She said the last part sarcastically.
"Mimi, if I had known what was going to happen, I never would have gone to practice."
"Of course you wouldn't have, Roger," she said, in a tired voice. "But it was bound to happen sooner or later. I can't keep hiding from him all my life. I've got skeletons in my closet, as do you. Everyone does."
"I could have protected you though," he said, helplessly.
Mimi shook her head. "Stop blaming yourself. It was my choice to go on my own." She walked over to the mirror above Roger's dresser, touching the bruise on her cheek gently.
"I'm going to have to borrow concealer from Maureen. Unless Daisha has some with her."
"You still want to go to the gig?" Roger asked, surprised.
"Of course I do, Roger. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because . . . you're hurt," Roger said, lamely.
"I'll be fine. Besides, you need to be there for Chad in the others, don't you?"
Roger nodded his head, helplessly.
Mimi forced a smile. "Can you go ask Daisha if she has any concealer? I don't want her to see me, because I don't want her to ask any questions."
"What am I supposed to tell her?"
"Tell her I have a really nasty pimple."
"You never get pimples."
Mimi shrugged. "You've gotta tell her something."
"Alright," Roger said, leaving the room for a moment. When he returned a moment later, he handed the concealer to Mimi.
"Thanks," she said, as she began to lightly dab it onto her face.
"Welcome. Are you going to get changed before the gig?"
"No. I was going to wear this dress tonight anyway. I'll just fix my hair up and I'll be fine." She turned to him. "Can you see it?"
Roger shook his head. "Nope. It's covered."
"Good." Mimi shoved the concealer into her coat pocket.
"Mimi, you don't need to put on a brave face."
"What?"
"You don't need to be brave for me. What Joel did was serious. You're acting like nothing happened."
"It's really not a big deal, Rog," she insisted. "He used to hit me when I was a kid, too. I'm used to it."
"If that's the case, then there's REALLY something wrong with him," Roger exclaimed.
Mimi sighed. "Joel's Joel. He's a fuck."
"How does your mother put up with him?"
"Honestly, I don't know. And I didn't want to ask her. She was upset enough by what happened." Mimi glanced at the alarm clock by Roger's side of the bed.
"Shit, Roger, we've gotta be down there by eight so you can have a last minute practice with the guys, remember?"
"I remember."
"So tell Mark and Jan to come on. We're going to be late." She walked past him, and into the other room.
Roger bit his lip, and followed her out the door.
a/n: Well, how do you like that? More A)Bang-Bang. I don't know how violence always finds its way to my stories. Anyway, this chapter was a bit shorter than the others, but still. Review, tell me what you think ;)
"Just go away, Roger!" Mimi yelled from the other side of the door.
"Mimi, would you just fucking talk to me?" Roger exclaimed. "What happened?"
Mimi sighed and slowly sank to her knees, leaning her head against the door.
"Mimi?"
***
"Joel," Conchita said softly, standing to her feet.
"Save it, Conchita," he growled, softly. "Did you know where she was all this time? Or did she just appear on your doorstep like some stray dog?"
"Stop it, Joel," Conchita said, through gritted teeth.
"You've been hiding things from me, haven't you? I bet you knew where Daisha has been all this time too."
Anger flashed in his eyes. "You think these games are funny?"
"Joel, please," Conchita begged, trying to make him listen.
"Shut up, Conchita. You're just a fucking bother, anyway."
"Fuck you, Joel."
"WHAT did you say to me?" he demanded, turning to face Mimi.
"You heard what I said," Mimi snapped, her fists clenching.
"Yeah, I heard what you said," Joel growled, walking towards her. "I heard you mouthing off to me. That's the way it always was, wasn't it? You girls at the public school would go off and have a good fuck, and then come back just in time to talk shit to their parents. Is that it?"
"Joel, PLEASE," Conchita pleaded, horrified and both admirable of her daughter's bravery.
"You aren't my father. You never were," Mimi hissed.
"You better watch it, bitch," Joel warned.
"No YOU better watch it! Daisha told me the reason why she left home. You were hitting her AND you're a perverted drunk. How do you think the police would like it if I told them you were committing sexual harassment?"
"Is that what she told you?" Joel growled, grabbing her by her upper arms, is nails digging into her skin, glaring down at her. He was a full head taller than her.
Mimi looked right back at him. She was tired of being pushed around by him.
"Didn't I always tell you you were going to get it if you kept talking smack to people?"
"All that ever came out of your mouth was shit, Joel. You treat my mother, my sisters, and me like shit. That's what you ARE. You're just a worthless piece of shit.
Mimi saw her mother's terrified look out of the corner of her eye.
"You're really asking for it this time," Joel snickered, and without warning, his hand came up out of nowhere, connecting roughly with her cheekbone.
"JOEL! ¡PARADA! STOP!" Conchita screamed, but Joel pushed her away.
Wearily, Mimi raised her hand to touch her stinging cheek, lightly.
"Bastardo," she mumbled, and then raised her fist to strike HIM. But Joel was too quick for her. He grabbed her wrist before she could make contact with his face, and twisted it painfully behind her back.
"Now you listen," he hissed. "I don't want to see you here ever again. I want you to go straight home, and tell that little two-faced sister of yours to get her ass home, or else. Do you understand?" he demanded, yanking her arm up, making her knees buckle from under her.
"DO YOU?"
"Joel, por favor," Conchita had started to sob. At that moment, Rosa had entered the room too see what all the commotion was, and she stood in the doorway, her mouth open in shock.
"Fuck you Joel," Mimi said, through gritted teeth, her eyes tearing with the pain.
"You just don't get it. You and your mother. Las rameras."
With that, he gave a disgusted grunt, and forcefully shoved her against the wall, banging her head in the process.
Mimi huddled against the wall, holding her head and closing her eyes tightly, trying to bear the searing pain in her head.
"I can't take this now," Joel mumbled. "I need a drink."
Mimi heard his footsteps running out the front door, and then she heard it slam behind him.
The sound of the door slamming seemed to make Conchita snap out of the trance she was in, and she rushed to Mimi's side.
"Chica," she murmured. ¿Usted es bien?Are you hurt?"
"I don't think so," Mimi mumbled, running her head with the back of her hand, ignoring the pain. She seemed to be losing a lot of brain cells lately this week.
"You're brave, Mimi," Conchita whispered, shaking her head. "Brave, but crazy. What were you thinking? You know how crazy he gets."
"I'm tired of fearing him, Mama," Mimi said, in a tired voice. "You don't like to admit it, but I know he treats you badly. I hate him," she spat.
"But you can't fight him, Chica. He's a stubborn crazy soul. And he can be dangerous. You shouldn't taunt him like that."
"I know," Mimi said, "But I'm just tired of being the weakling all the time. I needed to stand up to him."
"Even if it would get you killed?"
Mimi shrugged.
Conchita sighed. "Usted es muy valiente, Mimi. Muy loco."
"I'm sorry, Mama."
"I'm sorry too, Chica," Conchita whispered, as she wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter.
***
"That fucker. I'll murder him!" Roger practically shouted.
Mimi opened the door, finally allowing him to see her.
"There's nothing you can do, Roger," she said, sadly.
"If I ever see him," Roger promised. "He's a dead man."
He walked over to her, tipping her head back gently, and lightly touched the tender area on her face where Joel had hit her with his fingers.
"Roger, please," Mimi whispered, bringing his hand down.
"I should have been with you. If I had come with you, like I promised, none of this would have ever happened."
"None of what, Roger? Even if you had come, Joel still would have been there. And you wouldn't have stopped me from saying those things to him. He needed to hear it from me."
"But I could have stopped him . . . from hurting you."
"Roger, I'm fine. It's just a scratch," Mimi lied.
"It's not just a scratch, Mimi. And you said you hit your head on the wall? Do you want me to take you to a hospital?"
"Stop fucking babying me," Mimi snapped, suddenly. "I don't need to go to the hospital. Besides, you have your gig now. I can't get in the way of that." She said the last part sarcastically.
"Mimi, if I had known what was going to happen, I never would have gone to practice."
"Of course you wouldn't have, Roger," she said, in a tired voice. "But it was bound to happen sooner or later. I can't keep hiding from him all my life. I've got skeletons in my closet, as do you. Everyone does."
"I could have protected you though," he said, helplessly.
Mimi shook her head. "Stop blaming yourself. It was my choice to go on my own." She walked over to the mirror above Roger's dresser, touching the bruise on her cheek gently.
"I'm going to have to borrow concealer from Maureen. Unless Daisha has some with her."
"You still want to go to the gig?" Roger asked, surprised.
"Of course I do, Roger. Why wouldn't I?"
"Because . . . you're hurt," Roger said, lamely.
"I'll be fine. Besides, you need to be there for Chad in the others, don't you?"
Roger nodded his head, helplessly.
Mimi forced a smile. "Can you go ask Daisha if she has any concealer? I don't want her to see me, because I don't want her to ask any questions."
"What am I supposed to tell her?"
"Tell her I have a really nasty pimple."
"You never get pimples."
Mimi shrugged. "You've gotta tell her something."
"Alright," Roger said, leaving the room for a moment. When he returned a moment later, he handed the concealer to Mimi.
"Thanks," she said, as she began to lightly dab it onto her face.
"Welcome. Are you going to get changed before the gig?"
"No. I was going to wear this dress tonight anyway. I'll just fix my hair up and I'll be fine." She turned to him. "Can you see it?"
Roger shook his head. "Nope. It's covered."
"Good." Mimi shoved the concealer into her coat pocket.
"Mimi, you don't need to put on a brave face."
"What?"
"You don't need to be brave for me. What Joel did was serious. You're acting like nothing happened."
"It's really not a big deal, Rog," she insisted. "He used to hit me when I was a kid, too. I'm used to it."
"If that's the case, then there's REALLY something wrong with him," Roger exclaimed.
Mimi sighed. "Joel's Joel. He's a fuck."
"How does your mother put up with him?"
"Honestly, I don't know. And I didn't want to ask her. She was upset enough by what happened." Mimi glanced at the alarm clock by Roger's side of the bed.
"Shit, Roger, we've gotta be down there by eight so you can have a last minute practice with the guys, remember?"
"I remember."
"So tell Mark and Jan to come on. We're going to be late." She walked past him, and into the other room.
Roger bit his lip, and followed her out the door.
a/n: Well, how do you like that? More A)Bang-Bang. I don't know how violence always finds its way to my stories. Anyway, this chapter was a bit shorter than the others, but still. Review, tell me what you think ;)