Hey, hey, hey, smileandwave here! I appologize to all the people who are reading my other stories; I promise I will eventually get to updating and finishing them! I kind of lost my inspiration with those stories at the moment, but I assure you, I will not abandon either of my stories I have already written. That is a promise. Now, I hope you enjoy reading the first chapter of my third fic, Perfect Image!

Title: Perfect Image

Rating: T

# of Words: 1,221

Chapter 1: Prologue

Coping is not a foreign word to me. I've had to cope for so long, I'm surprised I'm still alive. I shouldn't be alive at all, actually. At age three, my family had already had great expectations for me. I was supposed to be one of those "beautiful-super-skinny-model-kinds-of-people-who-has-everything-under-control" kind of people, like everyone else in my family. I vowed to never become one of them.

Father, mother, and even my elder siblings urged me to uptake the family business of modeling, but I much preferred to play in the sand box, get dirty, go to day care and meet other children my age, and so on. I mean, seriously; three year olds aren't supposed to be models when they can barely walk.

My family's behaviors always disgusted me to the core. If their influence wasn't enough, it was their eating habits. Or actually, it's better to put it as their starving habits.

Every mealtime was horrible; there was barely enough food on the table to feed a starving stray animal from off the street. The conversations would range from, "I think we should cut back on the carbs, because I noticed I gained a pound yesterday," to "You guys know what? Today feels like a fat day for all of us, so how about we not eat or drink anything at all?" Being so young, I couldn't say no to my family, but I would always sneak as much food as I could scrounge up after everyone had fallen asleep. Even still, I was always hungry.

At age seven, things didn't get any better. No matter what I did, I couldn't convince my family to stop doing this to themselves. They wouldn't listen to rationality; starving themselves was engraved into their minds. The skinnier you are in modeling, the more jobs you get. Their way of thinking was vile to me. They would always say how fat they were, when they probably were thirty pounds under weight, sometimes even more. Soon, I couldn't live with it anymore.

One day, I told them that I would run away if they continued to starve themselves. I told them to look in any of the millions of full-length mirrors in our house, and take a good hard look at themselves. They were killing themselves with this obsession for being thin.

Still, they wouldn't listen. Because the media was always following my family, they said that if I wouldn't accept their policy, their way of life, I would just have to "die". I mean die as in not exist. They made up a story about how I had ran away, and was probably dead because I couldn't be found. The media made a large deal out of it for a while there, but like all stories, mine died out becaue of two things; one was I had never been in the modeling industry, and two was that I was the youngest child, the accidental child that didn't matter to anyone. And that was how I disappeared. I didn't exist to anyone anymore, even if I was actually alive.

Being "dead" came with even more restrictions than being a model; I couldn't be seen in public for obvious reasons. So, while my family found themselves even more work, modeling with some of the hugest magazines in all of Japan, I was forgotten. My family members got so infused with their work, they didn't have time for me anymore. Not unless I wanted to become one of them. Then, I could spend some time with them, but it wouldn't be out in public for the risk of uncovering my family's lie about my "death". Living this life, I felt like a used piece of junk. I couldn't even get their attention anymore; this wasn't a life anyone could put up with. There were so many times where I thought about ending my life for real, but my common sense always shone through some how, and I lived on.

This went on for years upon end, me living in the same house as my "family" until that day happened. I remember that day so clearly; the vividness of that seemingly perfect day forever engraved into my mind. It was a few days before my elder sister's birthday. The weather was absolutely gorgeous outside; the sun shone brightly down upon the earth, the weather being comfortably warm. My entire family – excluding me of course - had left on a business trip to celebrate my sister's success as a model, as well as to tour somewhere in America. I had been left home alone, as usual, to myself. I couldn't have been happier; this meant I could do whatever I wanted. What, you didn't think that I would have my own freedom even if I wasn't directly associated with my family any more, did you? I wasn't allowed outside of the house, on account I was the "disappointment" of the family.

Being only around twelve years at the time, I finally got the courage to try and escape our house. My family no longer trusting me, I knew they had set up traps to try and stop me from escaping our house. For over three years, I had tried to get past those traps, but to no avail. Now, being much wiser than all those years ago, I somehow managed to leave my house. I had no belongings with me, for my family had stopped buying me things long ago. Running out on the fancy rich people's streets with clothes way too large for me hanging off my body and no shoes secured around my feet, I broke out into a dead run in the middle of the night. I'm surprised no one saw me, but I was oblivious to the fact I could be caught, thanks to the rush of adrenalin that coursed through my veins as I ran for one of the first times in who knows how long. That's when I saw it.

My father's car was upturned, the wheels still spinning. The pure white car was dyed red with the dark red liquid known as blood. I stopped in my tracks, my heart racing. Breathing heavily, I started backing up away from the scene, for I could hear the sirens of police cars approaching the scene in the distance.

I ran blindly away from the scene, too stunned to believe anything. I remember tripping over my feet while fleeing the scene, and crying for hours and hours to myself on a park bench maybe three or four kilometers away from the scene of the crime. That was when the biggest mistake of my life occurred. Because of my hectic and erratic behavior after seeing my family killed, my common sense escaped me. In my stupor, I had forgotten to hide myself from the public. And it was just my luck to have someone from one of the various modeling agencies my family was associated with drive by, remember who I was, and take custody of me.

Things were a blur to me after that, but this leads you to where my real story begins; with me having to fit that "Perfect Image" my family had always tried so hard to peruse, trying so hard they made enemies and were killed because of it.

So, what does everyone think of it so far? Personally, I love the Ikkaku/Yumi paring just because they're so adorable together :) I'm wondering how this turned out, because I'm not sure I'm satisfied with the plot so far, but reviews will help me with that! Review, review, and review again, because your thoughts and ideas are very much appreciated so I can make this story as good as possible!