Mimi leaned against the wall again, staring at the ceiling. She must have paced through the entire hospital twice now. It was stupid, she should just go back and be with Angel and the others, but no. She couldn't. And the memories kept welling up…

Mimi sat on her bed, slowly turning over a tiny package of white powder in her hands. It rustled gently, almost soothingly, like it was comforting her…girl, you're pretty desperate if the sound of a rustling bag makes you feel comforted. Mimi bit her lip and scowled at the syringe sitting on top of her dresser a few feet away. Don't use it, girl, don't…Roger hated her enough, he would leave her for sure if he caught her shooting up or on a high. Mimi wanted so badly to put down the bag, turn out the light, go to sleep. But she didn't She just sat there.

Angel. Maybe calling Angel would make her feel better; maybe talking to her best friend would help. Mimi lay back and reached out, groping for the phone on her nightstand. She found the receiver and pulled the cord, dragging the cradle onto the bed beside her. Dialing the number she knew by heart, Mimi pressed the phone to her ear.

Brrrrrr. The buzz of the ringing sounded in her ear.

Brrrrrr.

Brrr—

"Hello, this is Ange—" The drag queen was cut off by a monster coughing attack. Mimi listened in horror for a few moments before slamming the phone down and pushing it roughly away. Her hands trembled, and she squeezed the bag hard. Oh god, Angel. Angel couldn't get sick, not when Mimi needed her most. Angel was there for Mimi, always. Mimi didn't want to have to be there for Angel; Angel was strong, Angel didn't need others to tend to her when she was weak. Angel was never weak.

Mimi stared at her ceiling, searching for an answer there, anywhere. Benny? No, he wasn't good for anything. All he did was tear her and Roger apart. Sure, she had used some methods of persuasion that Roger might not like, but she hadn't done what he thought she had. She wasn't that low.

Mimi felt a seam of plastic press against her palm, and suddenly she felt reckless. Jumping up, she grabbed one of the pretty scented candles that Angel and Maureen had collected for her over the last few months. They both said how nice the candles looked on her windowsill and around her apartment, how they perked it up. Mimi knew that there was a message underneath the candles; one that they maybe didn't even realize was there. It was like a question, a challenge to her to live out the withdrawal and quit smack, to only smell and look at the candles. Mimi had stopped herself before by staring at those candles. Not now, though.

She hunted through the second drawer of her dresser, finally finding a book of matches and a belt, which she laid on the bed. Her hand strangely steady, she struck a match and watched as the bright yellow flame leapt up, flickering like a warning light. She held it to the wick, the tiny fire flowing from one point to another, joining them. Mimi blew out the match and satisfactorily gazed at the burning candle. A voice inside her said, You have enough time to stop. Don't do this, don't. Mimi ignored it and slowly drew out the crinkled bag…

"Mimi, can I come in?" Roger's voice cut through her determination like a knife. She jumped wildly and almost dropped the candle, blowing it out and frantically shoving it beneath her bed.

"Mimi? Are you in there?" Roger knocked tentatively on the door. Mimi looked around desperately. Where to put it, where to put it…her brain finally started up and she thrust it into the still open drawer that the matches had come from, burying it deep beneath skirts and pants. The matches followed, nestled in the deep, dark corner.

"Ye—yeah, baby, I' m here, c'mon in," she called to keep the tremor from her voice. It was just as the door began to slide back that Mimi remembered about the needle. Grabbing it from her dresser, she threw it to the floor and kicked it beneath the bed to join the candle. It skittered out of sight just as Roger poked his head inside.

"Hey, Mimi…uh, I just wanted to say…I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't gotten so worked up, I was just tense and worried and sort of…forgive me?"

"Of course, baby, I do." Mimi shuddered as he embraced her, her heart beating wildly. He felt so warm, so steady, so there for her…but Mimi's eyes found the belt still lying on her bed, and she felt her stomach churn with the realization of what she had been about to do.

"Are you all right, dear?" A concerned voice snapped Mimi out of her reverie. In front of her stood a tiny old nurse, her gray hair coifed and her lined face worried. Mimi realized that she had been wringing her hands and pacing back and forth across the hall. The woman must have thought she was an escaped mental patient.

Blushing, Mimi muttered, "I'm fine," and brushed past the old nurse, actually pushing her aside. Regretting her actions (but not enough to turn around and apologize) Mimi headed towards Angel's room.