Everybody's Fool
Waking up in another hotel room she didn't recognize, Samantha, formerly a rough tomboy known as Sam Puckett, slowly rose out of bed, brushing her long, almost platinum-blond, dark brown locks out of her deeply made-up face. Inside the room, it was cold; not cool, but freezing, icily cold. Samantha had it that way all the time; it stimulated her mind and body, she said. Looking out over the city; something she used to do with meaning, Sam saw the dull lights shining in the massive, expressionless buildings in Los Angeles under the gray, darkly illuminated sky. Night had yet to pass, and her body was tired and aching. A couple cups of burning coffee, or even some pills on a slow day would get rid of that. Samantha threw the heavy sheets off, revealing her white, silk night gown. Walking over the carpeting, the young woman proceeded her way into the bathroom, and turned on the hot water. Her mirror fogged over, as it did so many times before.
For who-knows-how-long, the boiling water ran down on the girl's body, soaking away everything she couldn't remember from the last night. Some images flashed by; dark clubs, men screaming, drinking more than she normally would. Samantha had learned to let those go; forget them as easily as everything else. Then, it was over, and she walked out, combed out her hair in front of the mirror, wrapped in a pink towel her studio gave her. According to her agent, she was supposed to wear this outfit today; black tank top lined with a blood-red, sleeveless undershirt, black layered skirt, black elbow-length gloves lined with blood-colored stripes, like the color of her undershirt, and black boots. Her hair was going to be long, wild, and mostly dark brown. Now, Samantha had to put on her makeup; the tinted mirror that threw off the entire world. The first time she wore it, she was half-naked on the cover of Vanity Fair. Her eyes were lined with piercing black lines that gave off a shadowy blue that reflected the colors of late dusk on a storming day, her skin was flawless and lightened in hue, and her lips were blood-red and lined with black liner. Pressing her rough, lightly torn lips together, Samantha watched the colors of her cosmetics blend together perfectly.
Once the jet landed in yet another town, night had fallen over the city again. Her high-heeled boots clambering on the steps before her, Samantha followed her manager, walking hand-in-hand with her agent. Thanks to the chemicals, she was feeling amazing. Flash of the lights; snap of the cameras. "Beautiful! Perfect! Wonderful!" the random faces cheered. Sam lay her hands behind her, and gently arked her bosom outward, letting her long locks fall behind her as more and more and more flashes erupted. It never ended; the bliss never gave out...She would always be what everybody wanted her to be.
Samantha woke up...She didn't know how, but she wasn't under the influence of anything...she found herself alone, lost and cold in an alley. No more fans screaming how much they loved her. No more lights and cameras. Just Samantha...all alone. Once the public's prized doll, now...Everybody's Fool.