Chapter 4: Doxxed
The next few days were strange.
Itsuki kept sitting beside her. No one had told her to. No one forced her. She just... did.
Every time, she greeted Mimi with the same gentle voice, the same genuine smile. She asked how her day was. Complimented her sketch in the margin of her notebook. Even lent her a purple pen once without being asked — like it was nothing. Like it was natural.
And Mimi?
She was drowning in panic.
Because every nice word felt like a trap.
Every smile like a setup.
Her body braced for the blow, even when none came.
Her mind — wired for betrayal — whispered warnings every time someone got too close.
But Itsuki never crossed the line.
She didn't mock.
She didn't pry,
She didn't touch.
She just existed beside Mimi like sunlight through a cracked window — not too harsh, not too bright. Just... warm. And consistent.
It was terrifying.
Then came Friday.
Mimi had barely slept the night before. Her mother had screamed at her for forgetting to do laundry, hurled a spoon across the room like it was normal, and spat the words "You're a waste of space."
Her brothers laughed in the background like they were watching a comedy show instead of real life unraveling in front of them.
So when Mimi walked into class that morning, her eyes hollow and her hands trembling, all she wanted was to be invisible.
But Itsuki saw her anyway.
The moment she sat down, she turned to Mimi.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
Mimi flinched. Her throat tightened. The words wouldn't come out.
"Just tired," she whispered instead, tugging her sleeves over her wrists — shielding the faint bruises her family would never take responsibility for.
Itsuki didn't push. She didn't ask more.
She just nodded slowly, her gaze calm, steady, concerned — like she knew Mimi was lying but chose not to call her out on it.
Later that day, Mimi didn't go to the cafeteria. The noise, the crowds, the fakeness — it was all too much.
So she climbed to the rooftop. Her hiding spot. Her silent escape from everything that ached.
She didn't expect anyone to be there.
But when she opened the door, she saw her.
Itsuki.
Sitting cross-legged with her lunch in her lap, head tilted toward the pale sky like she belonged to another world.
Mimi froze mid-step. "Oh— I— I didn't know—"
Itsuki looked over her shoulder and smiled softly.
"It's okay. You can stay."
And Mimi did.
She sat a few feet away, cautious, like the moment might vanish if she moved too quickly.
They ate in silence — but it wasn't awkward.
It was rare. Still. Safe.
The kind of silence that felt like being understood without having to speak.
Then Itsuki said something that made Mimi's world tilt.
"You don't have to tell me anything," she said, voice quiet as the breeze.
"But I want you to know..."
She looked at Mimi, her eyes honest and raw.
"I see you."
Mimi blinked fast. Her throat burned.
Because for the first time in what felt like forever — someone did.
Not the broken version of her that people stepped on.
Not the silent one forced to endure.
Just... her.
A flicker of warmth crept in. Something almost close to safety.
But that warmth didn't last long.
That night, after finishing her homework, Mimi opened her Gmail. Just habit — checking for nothing.
But at the top of her inbox sat something that made her stomach plummet.
No sender name. No subject.
Just one email.
She clicked it.
Inside were five words.
"I never said goodbye, Mimi."
And beneath it...
A photo.
Taken inside her bedroom.
A photo she never took.
Her heart seized. Her skin prickled.
She stared at the screen, frozen, hands trembling as if the email itself could reach out and grab her.
Her door had been locked.
Her curtains drawn.
She hadn't invited anyone in — not since him.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to delete it.
But instead, she scrolled down.
There was a second message.
One she hadn't seen at first.
Just four more words:
"Check under your bed."Mimi stared at the screen, cold sweat sliding down her neck.
Her breath hitched.
No.
No.
No.
Her entire body screamed not to do it. But her curiosity moved faster than her fear.
She stood.
Her knees felt like jelly.
Step by step, she crossed the room, each breath sharper than the last.
She crouched.
Pulled the hem of her blanket up.
And saw it.
A box.
Not there yesterday.
Not hers.
Old. Wooden. Slightly cracked at the corners.
Hands shaking, she pulled it out.
The moment her fingers touched the lid, something in her chest twisted.
Like her soul was warning her.
She opened it.
Inside...
Photos.
Hundreds of them.
Every single one — of her.
Sleeping.
Walking home.
Showering.
Some were recent.
Others were from years ago.
But one thing was clear:
She had always been watched.
At the very bottom of the box lay something worse.
A used tissue — with her dried blood on it.
The bandaid she lost two weeks ago.
Her broken necklace from the day she ran from him.
A note.
"Did you really think you were free?"
Her scream tore through the night.
The Next Day
She didn't sleep.
She didn't eat.
She didn't cry.
She just moved.
Like a ghost.
Her bag was still at home. She didn't care.
Her mother had yelled something — she didn't hear it.
Her feet just carried her forward.
To school.
To the rooftop.
Her spot.
The place that once felt like safety.
Now, it was her escape.
The sky was overcast. Wind howled. The school buzzed below, unaware.
She stepped up onto the edge.
Toes peeking over the ledge.
Arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold her soul in.
Then she whispered,
"I'm tired."
And leaned forward.
But before gravity could claim her —
A scream ripped through the wind.
"MIMI!!"
Arms — strong, desperate — grabbed hers.
Itsuki.
She had jumped too.
Not to die...
But to save her.
Her hand gripped Mimi's wrist like a lifeline.
The other clung to a steel pillar behind them, her body swinging in midair.
"Mimi, don't let go!" she gasped, straining, legs dangling.
"I... I didn't want this," Mimi sobbed. "I can't— I'm so tired—"
"I know," Itsuki said, her voice cracking, "but you're not alone. Not anymore."
With all her strength, she pulled.
Mimi's feet scraped the ledge — her knees slammed the edge — but Itsuki didn't stop.
She yanked Mimi up with a final cry and shoved her onto the rooftop.
Mimi collapsed, panting, crying, shaking.
She looked up.
"Itsuki—!"
But Itsuki's hand was slipping. Her fingers bleeding from gripping the rusted metal.
Her strength gave out.
Her hand slipped.
Her body dropped.
And the only thing Mimi heard before the silence...
Was the sound of something — or someone — hitting the ground
Chapter 5 Preview: Freefall
One scream.
One slip.
And everything shattered.
Blood on the pavement.
Silence in the sky.
And Mimi, on her knees, wondering if the only person who ever truly saw her...
just died because she tried to live.
But the past isn't done with her yet.
Because as sirens echo in the distance—
her phone buzzes again.
One message.
One name.
The one she swore she'd erased.
"You were always mine, Mimi."