Behind the Mask

She had really done it this time. Marissa glared at her mother over her shoulder. The hag smiled back, waving. That accursed camera waiting eagerly in her hand. Swallowing the pit of anger that had risen to her throat, Marissa slumped into the chair of the spinning swing ride. Young children looked on enviously as the Mickey Mouse mascot sat right beside her. The suit taking up almost all of the space. Oh and the colour, so many fucking colours.

Marissa despised colours and crowds, which is exactly why her horrid Mother thought it would be best to take an entire week of summer to spend at the place most famous for both: Fucking Disneyland.

The swing began to move, lifting her, the mascot, and all the snot nosed kids into the air. The foul witch below started taking pictures of her. Marissa sneered back and attempted to spit at the woman, but the wind blew back into her face.

This is the worst.

Older kids around her age noticed her on the swing, they started pointing and laughing. It wouldn’t be long before the whole internet saw the ‘Emo girl’ on the swings at Disneyland, sitting right next to fucking Mickey Mouse himself. She sighed and leaned back just wishing for it to be over.

“Shit day huh?” A muffled voice came from beside her. She jerked up, too fast it seemed as the swing lurched forward with her, the safety chain crushing her gut.

“Who easy.” The voice came again. Was it? The damn mouse?

“You can talk?” She said, her voice sounding more like a growl than anything else.

“What you think I’m always in character.” Mickey mouse said; No, the person inside mickey mouse said. “I barely talk at all, in fact this the first time I’ve said a word in like, two hours.”

“Well, OK?” Marissa hesitated. “Why talk now then?”

“Because you’re not seven years old, and I want a god damn break.” He said not turning his head. “Now back to my question.”

Marissa frowned. What is with this guy? “What question.”

“Having a shit day?”

She snorted glancing at her mother below. “Yeah, I don’t even know where to start, I’m-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Marissa bit back her words and stared at the mouth of the costume, where the wearer’s eyes should be. “E-Excuse me? You asked the question… what?” She stopped taken aback. The man in the suit still hadn’t moved and that alone was strange enough.

“I don’t care about you problems, we all have our own.” The man continued. “I see you acting like the whole world is against you. You grimace at every sight every sound. All in black, and not one of those fake goths either your just glum.”

“Yeah? So what?” Marissa was getting tired of this wise-ass. Get into a sweaty suit for a couple hours, and now he thinks he’s at the boot of the entire human race?

The man shuffled a little, the first time she had seen him move since they had got on this damn swing. Come to think of it she hadn’t even noticed she was on the swing. The constant drone of the crowds and the high pitched squeals of excited children had become distorted while the ride was spinning. But as she listened closely the sound began to become clearer, they must be slowing down.

“What about your mother?” The man said.

Marissa winced. “The witch?”

He sighed and gave a slight nod, he was now facing her. Mickey’s lifeless cloth and plastic eyes staring at her. She shivered.

“She doesn’t recognise who - or even what, I am. No matter how many times I tell her she won’t listen. ‘Mom I’m not like other girls.’ ‘No I don’t want to go to the mall.’ ‘For fucks sake Mom I don’t want to go to fucking Disneyland.’” She threw up her hands. “It never ends. I think she does it just to spite me now.”

“You sure that’s why?” The man asked. “Ever heard of ‘seeing is believing’? No? Well seeing is different but also the same as believing. What you believe will affect what you see. It’s all about your own perception. Your Mom probably sees her little girl when she looks at you. She then acts as if you are still her little girl, which you are and you aren’t.” he groaned, muffled under his suit.

“I hope you can wrap your head around what I just said, because I can’t. Gave myself a headache.” He swore barely coherent under the mask.

Marissa frowned at him. Perception? The hell? So the hag was too stupid to realise her own daughter wasn’t five anymore. What does that have to do with belief? The ride was about to be coming to a stop. She couldn’t wait to get out of this hell hole.

The sun beamed down on them and Marissa felt the first droplets of sweat on her forehead. Thank Fuck she didn’t wear any makeup today, it would’ve looked awful. She began to regret wearing a black hoodie too.

She glanced at the suit, and felt a pang of guilt. Imagine being in a suit like that on day worse than this…

“What’s it like in there?” She asked suddenly.

The man chortled. “Hot. As. Fuck.”

“Yeah I can imagine.”

“Worse part is it never really leaves you. It’s like an itch you can never scratch. You can’t be without it, not really anyway.” He shook his head and spoke barely above a whisper. “No, no you cannot.”

Marissa shied back a little. “O-okay?”

“Exactly.” The man behind the mask said.

She swallowed a pit that had risen in her throat. She looked down below, eager to find something other than the man in the suit to think about. Those with cameras had tired of the Emo girl and the Mascot had wandered off. The children impatient had pointed elsewhere dragging parents and their wallets off. Only a few waited now for those on the ride to hurry up and get off, Marissa mother included.

The woman smiled and waved at her, not a hint of deceit on her face. Maybe the Mouse was right? She shook her head that was not possible he had no idea. After all how could he, if perception is everything then all that was said and done is pointless.

The ride came to a halt and the Mickey Mouse mascot unbuckled the chain and jumped down. Marissa followed, relishing the feeling of blood flowing through her lower half. She started at quick pace towards the exit.

The Man behind the mask nodded to her and said. “Remember, it’s about how you see it. And also about how others see it. Really, there is no right or wrong, only perspective.” With that he turned and continued walking in exaggerated steps, obviously back in character.

Marissa frowned. “Right. Good luck getting out of that suit!” She called back after him.

He waved and spoke in hushed tones, which definitely weren’t meant to be heard by anyone but her. “It’s not a suit I’m afraid. You can never escape your own skin, no matter who you are.” He hurried away waving at a group of young kids eager to get a picture taken.

Marissa stood in shock until she smelt a familiar perfume emanating from behind her.

“How was the ride sweetie?” She said her voice like honey mixed with broken glass. No she doesn’t deserve that, she…

Marissa turned around and met her Mothers gaze. “H-hey Mom. I think I want to go home. Now.”

She tilted her head questioningly. “Well of course, if that is what you want.” Marissa nodded, her eyes glued to her feet.

What did that fucking Mouse say?