January 7th, 2024
Day Fifteen
Mikey watched the digital clock on the bedside table, his bloodshot eyes barely blinking as the minutes passed.
12:03.
12:15.
12:35.
Eventually, he couldn't even focus on the time at all anymore.
Banana Kid was on his mind; of course he was. He'd received information that gave away that he was alive - and apparently, it wasn't JJ who was at fault for any of it. He was kidnapped somewhere, and the same person who'd brutally murdered and cannibalized someone else was the one who had him. And what was worse, he'd expressed interest in doing the very same to him soon...
Mikey wanted to move. He wanted to aimlessly search for him- no, he had to. Surely it was selfish what he was doing right now; too afraid to even step outside of the room because of what had happened the last time he did.
If only he knew there was nothing to worry about, because the danger he feared so badly was fast asleep next to him.
Mikey blinked slowly. The note had said that Usagi wouldn't come after him again, but he didn't trust it. In fact, he'd trust a damn mimicker before he took his word for it. But at the same time, Banana Kid's life was at risk, and with this new information, he could go on a search and likely find him alive. He couldn't be afraid now. He peeled himself from the bed, his mind not even once drifting to the consequences that he usually received for leaving the room until his hand fastened around the doorknob, where the realization hit him.
"I don't care." He eventually decided. "It seems that no matter what I do, I always suffer for it. If I'm already going to be in seemingly never-ending pain, then I may as well try and help others when I'm not busy watching people die, or being hurt."
-
As usual, Mikey felt bad disturbing Carrie from her sleep. But this time, the guilt was lighter in knowing they were going to do something important. He knocked a few times, but lightly, not wanting to feel too much of the pressure from the sturdy wooden door. He was so on edge lately that almost everything was making him nervous, including simply feeling a little bit of wood against the back of his hand.
Carrie answered, but Mikey quickly noticed that she looked even worse than she did the last time they talked. Her fur was noticeably more dirty, as well as more unkempt, and certain areas of her fur were thinner. Some small areas on her paws were bare of any fur at all, with the exposed skin red and irritated, claws marks visible all over.
"C-Carrie?" Mikey whimpered, his eyes rounding in distress. "Oh my god, what happened?"
"I've been thinking, and working." She purred casually. "It's no surprise I look like this. I've been quite busy."
Mikey took her paws into his hands, tears welling in his eyes as he gently squeezed them.
"I'll help clean you up." He offered, his voice shaky and nervous. "C-Come on, let's get you back inside."
"No time." Carrie swiftly pulled her paws away from him, and he lightly gasped in response. "Like I said, I'm working. I need to perfect my new creation. It needs to be as vile as I can possibly make it. I'm so close; I can feel it. Just let me focus, Mikey."
"W-What are you talking a-about?" Mikey stammered, still incredibly stressed, with it progressively getting worse the longer he stared at Carrie's physical state. Her fur stood completely on end and her tail lashed about as she pointed downwards, urging Mikey to his knees. He obeyed, assuming it was because she was getting sick of staring up at him. Carrie latched her claws around his face, suddenly grinning maniacally.
