The upper-class suburb where Mireile Beldevere lived was fairly normal. A decent sized gated community, the kind where most had wealthy fathers who worked in higher management of white collar jobs, trophy wife mothers turned soccer and helicopter moms, drowning their lost hopes and dreams in martinis and botox, preparing their overly-privelidged teenagers for Princeton and Harvard and dealing with their husband's desires for younger, better trophy wives.
Then there was the large mansion at the end of the road. Inside lived the most influential persons in the community, the millionaire fashion designer Ariel Beldevere. Now, it wasn't that the woman was unlikeable, but no one ever came near her house. Not even the paper man, she had to pick up all her packages at the sidewalk. Again, it wasn't that no one lied her, in fact she was well liked, and quite the social butterfly. It was just that people thought her house was haunted.
And it was. Just not by any ghost.
Rather, the source of everyone's bone-chilling anxiety and inexplicable terror when they neared the house was, in fact, a living being. Ariel Beldevere's little-known niece, Mireile. Or, Mimi, as she was commonly called. Mimi's parents were humanitarians who were always about promoting peace and better lives, and often were away in third world countries, helping the population. They typically missed Christmas and birthdays, but it wasn't like Mimi minded. She preferred to celebrate those alone anyways.
It was her aunt who had other ideas about this. Tired of Mimi constantly scaring away neighbors and ruining parties, she had tried dozens of in-home therapists, but all ended up running away. The girl was simply, as they put it, "a demonic horror". But that would all end soon, she hoped. Because now, she had someone better than a therapist. Someone who, without a doubt, could end Mimi's reign of terror and asocial way of life. The popular and very handsome son of a family friend, looking for a place to stay in the city. She offered him her home rent free while she was on a vacation in Milan. That is, of course, if he could change Mireile.
She had left a note detailing her plans in the kitchen, her flight had left before his taxi had arrived. So the boy would have to find Mimi himself and work on fixing her.
The girl in question was locked up in her room, under a thick quilt, watching a horror movie. Her room was decorated with spooky decor, posters of zombie, card board cutouts of classic horror monsters, large "toys" of ghosts and the like. It was also littered with snack wrappers and crumbs, the remains of the latest movie marathon. It was a wonder she wasn't fat, given how and what she ate.
Her aunt had neglected to tell her one thing though, before she left on vacation. That the person that would be taking care of the house and babysitting her was, in fact, a boy.