The Mighty Fall // l.h.

Chapter 1 • Miss Jackson

• Mimi •

When you wake up in a bed that's not yours, you can tell before you even open your eyes — it feels different, it smells different, and somehow you just know, almost like some sort of primal instinct. I barely even want to get up and look around. It would mean having to face the day and see wherever the hell I ended up after last night.

I finally do it. It's a fucking hotel room, and not even a nice one. There are two queen-sized beds, one of which is occupied by myself and ... whoever the hell this is. There's a brown leather chair in the corner and a flat-screen TV right across from the head of our bed. The lamp on the nightstand next to my head is off, but I can see my phone and purse sitting right beside it. The room is thick with the smell of cologne and sex and it makes me feel like I'm going to puke. Waking up with a hangover is a very familiar feeling, but it's still an unpleasant one.

I turn slowly and quietly to observe the figure who's still fast asleep next to me. His hair is long and brown and his face is in need of a shave. I wouldn't be able to remember his name even if I had a gun held to my head.

I slide out of bed, being as careful as possible not to make any sudden noises or movements — if he wakes up, I'll be in the same shitty position that I've been stuck in so many times before. It's not fun.

I quickly get myself dressed. I have nothing to put on but the slutty dress that I was wearing last night, the tight black one with no straps and a gold zipper straight down the front. I sigh internally when I remember what shoes I was wearing last night and glance despairingly at the black platform ankle boots; I'm going to trip and break something in my current state, but I have no other choice. I slip them on and tie up the laces.

I grab my phone and shove it inside my purse, getting up and going to the bathroom. I walk on the balls of my feet because I know that the clicking of my huge heels will wake up what's-his-name. I glance at myself in the mirror and feel my stomach sinking.

My dyed magenta hair is a mess of random patches of curls and flat-ironed parts. My pale blue-grey eyes are ringed unattractively in black eyeshadow and liner, making me look like a raccoon. My dark red lipstick has been smudged off, but I can see little traces of it around my mouth. At least my little diamond stud is still intact in my nose. I grab a tissue from the box and try to wipe off the lipstick and eye make-up; it helps a little bit with the lipstick, but the black mess around my eyes refuses to budge. I shake my head at my reflection, leaning over the counter to throw the tissue away.

I'd better get out of here while I still can.

I sneak out of the bathroom, turning off the light as I tiptoe towards the door. I pull it open quietly, praying that it won't creak. Just as I'm about to make my way into the hallway, I hear the mattress creaking and shifting.

"Mimi," What's-His-Face mumbles, reaching towards my pillow. I step out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

There's sunlight shining into the hall from the window on the far side, right next to the stairs. I can see the little floating particles of dust in each and every ray and my sensitive eyes are stinging and burning. I dig around in my little purse for a pair of sunglasses that will hopefully shield my eyes and hide my hangover all at once. The high is heaven, but the aftermath is hell.

I stumble my way towards the elevator, smashing the button down with my thumb and leaning against the wall. It feels so lonely in this building. What time is it? I highly doubt that I'm the only person in the area. The elevator dings and slides open before I can check my phone, so I get in and press the lobby button, leaning against the back wall. I feel my phone buzz in my purse and shuffle through the contents until I'm able to find and answer it.