[i]I'm so stupid.[/i]

Her head down as she waited near the subway line for it to come, Karime Ochiro, better known as the Idol 'Haruka,' spoke within her own mind. The spotlessly clean subway made her feel sick. It was too clean. Too perfect. Why did everything have to perfect? Why did this society demand nothing but the best, of the best, of the best, of the best, of the... Her hands clutched a strappy purse in front of her so tightly her knuckles were white. She remembered seeing the video.

Oh it had spread like wildfire, just like her legs did in that video. 

She had done a bikini-modeling photo shoot not long ago and while the photographer had been busy catching the light on the idol just right, some production assistant went and took a video of the entire process of her going through the sexy poses they commanded her to do and overlayed the audio with some less-than-pure music. Her American friends told her that the video really wasn't that bad but...

[i]They don't fucking understand.[/i]

Everything had to be pure in the land of the rising sun. The comments of the video sneered at her, saying things like 'She probably used that disgusting pose on that art-director she slept with' and 'How desperate for attention do you really have to be to do something like this?' The masses were misinformed, as they always are. Across from her in the subway, a metal bar was propped up against the tracks, polished so much that she could easily make out her reflection with ease. Her teal eyes, peeking over her overly large sunglasses, glared back at her.

[i]I hate you... I hate you... I hate you... I hate you... [b]I hate you.[/b][/i]

Behind her, she could hear two teenage boys roughhousing. From what she could gather, one was teasing the other about how he liked a girl. 

[i]It wasn't my fault! He used me... He USED me...!


But it is my fault.


It's always my fault. 

You stupid whore.[/i]

From down the way, she could hear the train coming. The boys were getting closer. 

[i]I'm so worthless.[/i]

Her fans didn't even like her anymore, most of them anyway. Her music was becoming weaker as Haruka, the persona itself, was being broken. She had a mental breakdown three months ago. She started bawling on live national TV, admitting how stressed she was on the talk show and how she hated that this fame had made her into something she wasn't. Before she could be interviewed further, she ran out of the studio... and never went back. There was consideration of her return lately, and her star-bound friends had been there for her, for that she was grateful. 
But it was her that wasn't there for herself anymore. Her eyes closed and she let out a sigh. All she wanted was a nice, hot bubble bath and to curl into her bed for the night. Maybe she could be nicer to herself in the morning. Then she felt someone fall into her from behind. 

With a gasp, she suddenly found the subway tracks rushing up to greet her, landing with an 'oomf!' ungracefully. She picked her head up to look behind at what had pushed her. One of the boys, who had also fallen but onto the platform.

His eyes were stretched wide in horror. 

Looking over towards the oncoming train, she realized, even as she struggled to get up and off the tracks, that it was too late. In those final, slow moments, everything seemed to slow down. 

And she realized how badly she wanted to live. Instinctively, her hand rose up to guard her face.

Her childhood hallucination was there. Just in front of her, sneering down at her. Had she forgotten her medicine? Why would she see Himika now... of all times? The dirty-haired hallucinations eyes narrowed and her thin lips curled over blackened teeth.

"You [i]don't[/i] deserve to live."

...huh?

And then it was over, just as she began to scream, the large metal wheel sliced cleanly down her neck, the head rolling along the tracks as the subway kept moving... the expression of horror still twisted onto the features of the fallen star, Haruka.
*****
...Warmth...

This wasn't so bad.

If this was death... here, floating freely in this space of blackness, surrounded by nothingness... She could live with that. But then, she couldn't because she was dead. There was nothing to worry about. She would never feel pain again and that... knowing that... 

[i]It was wonderful.[/i]

But then her body began to stir, and her eyes gently flicked open. She felt like she was just coming out of a very nice, very needed rest. Where was she anyway? She felt a bit stuffy cramped beneath whatever was over her. Wiggling, she was pleased to find that whatever was on her came off with ease, and she emerged from a sea of blankets and pillows that had been piled up in the corner of the room. She blinked as she took in the sight around her.

Some sort of dingy apartment with other people in it... and a laptop... and... [i]Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore, [/i] She thought to herself. She didn't remove herself completely from her chysalis of blankets and pillows, finding them to be pleasantly warm, and thus kept herself half buried beneath them as she talked, a fair hand reaching up to stroke her neck. Had it been a dream?

"U-uh....H-hi... um, where am I?" She asked the people present in a confused tone.