The Disconsolate Maiden

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ten years later...

Homura opened her eyes miserably, her silky, long brown hair in a total mess. She had just awakened from an hour nap, feeling miserable inside. She couldn't remember the last time she had had proper rest.

Ever since the night of her prom, a night Homura had forced out of her memory, she had started to work in another "part" of the "idol" company. It was the part of the company that was for mature audiences. The poor girl was disappointed in herself. Never once did Homura want to enter such a mess, yet here she was, constantly having to take birth control pills.

Homura was a truly disgusting human, just as her father had once told her.

The girl was no longer sure why she was even alive. She had absolutely no purpose in life. Homura despised her job, despised eating to stay alive, could never sleep because of her frequent anxiety attacks, and just had absolutely no hope of ever escaping her endless cycle of torture.

"Are you single?" were words Homura would often hear, followed by, "What's your occupation?"

She dreaded having to answer each and every time. But she remained true to one thing her mother had taught here when she was just a mere child, years before the caring woman even died.

"Be a good girl and tell the truth," Mrs. Kanojo's words would echo in Homura's mind each time she was asked such things. "The more truthful you are, the more you will be trusted. No man hires a dishonest trickster."

Homura sat up in her futon in her extremely tiny apartment. Her apartment consisted of three rooms: a small bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and a kitchen. Really, it was all she needed since she was gone, being filmed almost all day.

Exhaling, the bedraggled girl turned to look out the small, square window behind her. It was still dark outside.

The small digital clock beside her futon read: 1:42 A.M.

Homura exhaled and rubbed her eyes, getting out of bed. There was no point in her attempting to sleep. She hadn't the past months, causing her to feel utterly miserable.

The day she moved to this apartment ten years ago, she brought absolutely nothing with her. Not her phone, not extra clothing, and not even her cosmetic products. She had felt too broken at the time to even pack. Still, Homura didn't regret doing such.

Because she hadn't brought anything with her, she had absolutely nothing to remind her of the past. She wasn't even in the same part of Tokyo anymore, meaning she never passed the shops she used to as a child.

Homura walked into her bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing her face with water.

"He told me to meet him at that love hotel around three...didn't he...?" Homura sighed as she turned the faucet off, rubbing her face on an old towel. "Was it morning or..."

Looking at herself in her foggy, filthy mirror, Homura forced a smile on her face. She had gotten so much better at faking her smiles now.

"I should be happy, shouldn't I..?" Homura laughed in spite of herself as she began to unbutton her shirt which she had fallen asleep in. "I'm an idol after all, aren't I...? This I what I wanted...isn't it...? Close enough...?"

Homura turned the shower on, then proceeded to strip her clothing off.

Steam wrapped around her body as she yanked her fingers through her tangled hair, just as exhausted as she could be.

"Who even am I?" Homura said to herself, soaking all of her hair. "This isn't the Homura I ever knew..."

After having washed herself with her strongest shampoo and soap, making sure she smelled "nice" as her boss always wanted, Homura turned off the shower just as the water began to go ice cold. She had a very small water heater, yet it always made the water burning hot at first, then ice cold after just ten minutes.

"I wish I didn't exist..." Homura sighed to herself as she grabbed her purse a good thirty minutes later, turning off the kitchen lights. Opening her front door, then locking it once she had exited her apartment, the girl went on her way to another session of torture.