"Ew. Is this what I really look like?"
A tall, black-haired woman; in her teens; with dark, red eyes, pale skin, and a nasty temper, boldly stared into the gleaming mirror of death and hate, which shone her reflection. Sighing, she turned around, and walked out of the bathroom door. She shut her bedroom door, which sealed out the bright light.
The mysterious woman found a flashlight on her night table and turned it on. "Ahh…That's better. A little dark won't hurt." Sweeping towards her walk-though closet, she opened the door and threw the dimming mini-sun on one of the top shelves in that huge closet that owned her clothes and some other processions.
"Hmm, let's see." Sticking one of her tiny hands on the highest shelves, making sure that the flashlight was still in the other, she swooped down a small book. "AH HA!"
Glad that she found it, the red-eyed woman stepped out of her closet and shut the door. She went into a corner of her room, plopped down in the chair with a purple covering, and opened the dusty book. A big poof of dust came up and she swiped it away with her hand.
Giving off a small cough from the dust, she got herself back together and continued. Flipping though the pages, with a dying flashlight wasn't easy but the black-haired college student for she liked to write in the dark for it made her entries, more... Interesting. In a strange, sort of way. Finding a blank page, she stuck her hand into the chair's cushion and found a ball point pen.
'What the hell? It's not like me to write a girly-girl entry in a diary....' Yelling at herself silently, she stared blankly at the 'diary' as she called it. Taking the cap off and sticking it in her mouth, she began to write. Chewing, and moving the cap around her mouth, she stopped. Looking at the page, the woman read aloud to look for mistakes.
"Dear Journal, I hate you. This seems strange that I'm writing in this stupid thing right now but I am, for unknown reasons. I might be in my teens but I look like I'm in my thirties! Might as well be, I'm talking to an inanimate object...Today, I got dumped. After, my sophomore dance tonight. He was my FIFTH boyfriend. We lasted longer than the usual couple would. For three years. Well, in my case. I only last with a boy for like, four months. This guy was different. It sucks that I don't know what happened..."
"One day, we're making out under a tree in the park and the next; we're breaking up all because his ex-girlfriend wants him back after five fucking years."
Still reading from her journal, she continued. "You know what? Being nineteen sucks. College is soooo dumb. I should have dropped out in my freshman year. I'm going to college for no reason at all. Just to review high school, but harder papers and a lot more skills are needed."
"Then, there's my father. Unfortunately, I live about thirty minutes away from my father, Naraku. He insisted on picking me up from the dance. That bastard. It annoys me that my BMW randomly has to have a leak in the gas tank. I knew it was Naraku who broke it. That way, he comes to pick me up and gives him a chance to give me a hard time. Man, I just want him to burn in hell!"
"I feel really sorry for my little sister, Kanna. I really don't think she likes Naraku either. She's only eight. Someday, I'll grab my sister and run from his hell of a mansion. Maybe to make her feel better, I'll steal some of Naraku's money, put her in an adoption center, and give her my cell number. That way, I can keep in contact with her."
Writing away in her journal, she kept writing until three o' clock in the morning. Finally, her flashlight went out and she cursed silently. "Damn. Well, at least there's some light coming in from the window. Thank God it's Saturday, I can sleep in."
Yawning, she got out of her prom dress and slipped into her pajamas. The woman crawled into bed with her tiny book.
She took her pen and signed, "Kagura." Putting her book and pen on her night table lightly, she yawned once again.
Kagura puffed her pillow and laid her head down. Finally, she got comfortable and went to sleep.