Dearest Junko,

It was a shame you did not come home from your break from school, but we understand. We hope you had a lovely time with your friends.

We have also noticed that your letters have become less frequent. Is everything alright?

Do you hate me? I would not be surprised if you did, and I would not blame you.

We always enjoy your letters, dearest. And we love you.

___________________________________________Wishing all the best,
_______________________________________________Mother and Father

Junko stared down at the small letter. This was her fifth time reading it. She still didn't know what to think of it or what to even say. What could she say? It was short, to the point, and somehow very...lacking. She knew that the 'father' bit at the end was just a ruse, just something that had been added so Junko would feel better. He probably did not even read her letters; he probably didn't even know she sent them to begin with. Her letters were not inscribed on plaques made of melted down gold pumpkin seeds; why would he read them? Though the hate part was a bit strong; Junko loved her parents, she truly did, she just didn't like them. It wasn't their fault...not entirely, anyway. Her mother was a slave to their kind; she was a futakuchi-onna who had succumbed to the whispers, suggestions and threats of her own second mouth, The Empress. The part that bothered her most about that was she could still remember what it had been like before that had happened. It wasn't as if Junko was born into the kind of life their parents were living. Her father? He had also once been a loving and attentive man, but around the time her mother had essentially fallen prey to her own self he had grown distant and begun locking himself in his study, only caring about money and counting it and having it. Were they well off? No. Were they completely in poverty? No. But you would think they were with how cheap he was. It pained him to have to spend any money on the essentials such as clothing, food, things like that. Her mother spent all of her time in their house as well, she never left and her only contacts to the outside world lied in Junko's letters and her own clients for her seamstressing services. Junko sniffed and suddenly wiped at her eyes, scooting back across the bed until her back was against the wall. Sayuri, Kuro and Momo sat on the floor at the edge of the bed looking up at their beloved owner. What should they do? They had tried to go up there and cuddle with her when she had sat down but Junko had gently picked them up and put them back on the floor one by one until even Sayuri got the hint.

Do you hate me?

No, Mother. I don't hate you.

We. We. We. We. We.

'We' probably means you and The Empress, Mother. I know father does not read my letters.

We understand.

Of course you do, Mother. Did you even write this letter yourself or did The Empress dictate this to you? It's probably the latter...

Junko didn't want to admit it but she was jealous of her friends, and especially of Seiji; they all had such loving parents who sent them care packages and letters and welcomed them home with hugs and kisses and were so interested in hearing of their week, their month, their year, their day. Even Seiji's parents had seemed enthralled by her silly stories. It wasn't fair...she wanted a family like that. She had had that family! When she was still young? That had been the family she'd had! Her mother would dress her up in pretty clothes, teach her how to sew, let her help with small little things, read bedtime stories to her, gone out for walks with her, played games with her, taught her how to take care of her hair; even her father had taught her the basics of how to count, her letters, how to read, how to write, and even been a loving husband to her mother! But then The Mistress had begun to show Her colors, given Herself a name and started gaining control over Junko's hair. That was when it had all begun to end. Her mother always looked so sad after The Mistress had given Herself a name, and Junko could swear she remembered hearing The Empress whispering terrible things about her into her mother's ear. The more depressed her mother had gotten the more distant her father had grown until one morning they just...stopped. Her father barely spoke a word to her, her mother barely spoke a word at all; The Empress smugly taught Junko her place in the household, encouraging The Mistress to help Her keep Junko under control as a 'proper, obedient child should be', even going as far as to explain....that was why her name was Junko. There wasn't a room in the house her mother's hair could not reach after it had grown to a certain length, it would even try and pry open the door to her father's study on occasion. She was seven when that had all happened. She did the chores, she took care of the house...while her father counted his money and her mother continued to sew to make her own money to feed The Empress. These were all the reasons why she had even enrolled in this academy to begin with; she didn't want to become her mother. It had not been easy, not by a long shot. The Mistress still felt She was in charge after Junko had been accepted into the school and enrolled. She was rude, abusive, controlling and wild. Junko was ashamed of Her. But then...it changed. Junko's hair had been cut and suddenly...She was almost..calmer.

Whimpering, Junko curled her legs up to hug them close to her body, her face buried against her knees and the letter put aside. Why couldn't she be something else? Why couldn't she be a skinwalker like Nuk? Or a kitsune like Tomoko? Or a spider like Lizzy? Or a ghost like Seiji? Why did she have to be born as this quiet race of women who had to fight their entire lives just to be themselves? To not become a hollow shell of the woman they had once been? It wasn't fair. She chanted this quietly to herself as she began to rock. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.

"Pathetic." The voice was low, disapproving. "If that is how you feel then you truly do not deserve anything you have." Junko's long hair parted into two sections that curled to wrap around her arms and pry them from her legs, tugging and pulling until She was successful. "You are a pathetic, whiny, needy, immature little twit who doesn't deserve a damn thing she has. Oh boo hoo! Mommy and Daddy don't love me enough! They don't give me hugs or read me stories! A-BAWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" Junko kept her head low, her jaw clenched and shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Stop it... "My boilfriend's parents were so nice to me! I'm going to be petty now and wish I had his life while they shower me with love and gifts they don't even have to give me! Boo hoo hoo!" Stop it... "My little kitsune friend's family welcomed me into their home! They didn't even have to allow me onto their mountain! I'm going to be a petty little ungrateful brat and spend all of my time comparing my own family life to hers and wishing I had a life like Tomoko! Boo hoo hoooooooo!"

"Stop it.." Junko finally breathed out, whimpering quietly. The Mistress didn't let up.

"My friends offer to give me gifts! I decline because I don't want to be a burden on them and think I'm some kind of charity case and then get all down in the dumps when I see they have things I wish I had! Boo hoo hoo hoo hoooooooooo!"

"S-Stop.."

"And the best part? Everyone loves me! Everyone says I'm soooooooo amazing~! They even voted for me to represent them as their student body's vice president on the student council! But please, guys! Don't compliment me I don't deserve it! BAWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

"I SAID STOP IT!" Junko finally screamed out, tightly clutching her head and curling tighter within herself. The Mistress snorted and relented to Junko's demand, thick black hair falling to lie limp around Junko and curtain her body. "Stop it! Stop it! I said stop it! Just shut UP! I don't want to hear it!"

"What? The truth? You don't want to hear how pathetic and SELFISH you are?! Is that it? You don't want to hear why you're undeserving of everything you've accomplished?! Is that it?!" Junko whimpered.

"I said shut up! You don't know anything!" The Mistress barked with laughter.

"I don't know anything? I don't KNOW anything?! Junko! I know everything there is to know about you! From your stupid little ideas with your friend Lizzy to how much you crave Seiji's affections to the point where being away from him or seeing him even talk to another ghoul depresses you! You should just give up and submit to me NOW!"

"NO!" Junko pulled at her hair in frustration and jumped off her bed. "If you don't shut up I'll cut you! I swear I will! Stop it!"

The Mistress paused a moment. Junko could be serious this time...she had cut off a piece of her own hair to win over Seiji's forgiveness, after all. The ghoul was an emotional wreck when she was feeling passionate about something. She shouldn't be trusted to make any kind of decision at all when she was being like this... "You wouldn't dare." Junko growled and looked around until she found her scissors, the ones she only ever used when sewing. She picked them up and grabbed a bit of hair, holding it so tightly it felt like she was just going to rip it from her scalp without even using the scissors. "You don't have the guts." Junko's chest rose and fell with short, rapid breaths as she stared down at the two sharp blades just waiting around her hair. She had never known what the sound of blades cutting hair had sounded like until that field trip, and now it was the only thing she could hear in her head as she worked up the courage to squeeze closed the scissors. She could hear it echoing in her memories like a terrible nightmare that wouldn't go away. That quick physically painless sensation that made her heart clench and her stomach lurch. She wanted to throw up just thinking about this. Could she do it? Could she cut her own hair?! She...she couldn't! There was no way! But she couldn't prove The Mistress right. She just couldn't. All she could think of was when she had been on the island, how she'd felt when her hair had been chopped off.

Silence filled the room as Junko's entire body shook, her hands tensing around the handle of the scissors. Just one quick cut. She could do it. One clench of the fist and it'd be over...

"Well?"

Junko swallowed hard, her eyes closing tightly.

"WELL?"

"I...I..."

She couldn't do it.

Junko gave a frustrated cry as she took the scissors and chucked them across the room, not even noticing the way the tip of one blade stabbed into the chest of one of her dress mannequins and stuck there. "I hate you! I hate you so much!" Her legs finally gave out and she fell to her knees, curling up so her forehead was on the floor and her fingers were tightly gripping her own head so hard she could feel her nails digging. "I don't want to be you! I don't want to be like my mother...I..I just can't! I want to deserve what I have I don't want to be jealous anymore..." She sobbed. The Mistress pursed her lips, using the hair Junko had been about to slice clean off to force her to sit up and wrap comfortingly around her neck.

"Then prove you deserve it, ghoul."