Chapter Text
She couldn’t imagine waking up in a hospital bed to be included in the whole “deleting the universe” thing. And yet here she was. In a hospital bed. Annoying beeping and bright lights and the distinct (though she’d never smelled it before) smell of disinfectant and something rubber. Or burnt plastic. She could never place that smell. But it was surely medical.
At first she’d only heard voices puncture through the endless void where she had no body, no senses, nothing but her mind, they’d cried out something, but she either couldn’t or didn’t care to make it out. Then her other senses slowly returned to her. All of a sudden she was laying on something, and she had arms and legs and a face. And then she had eyes. And they were opening. And through her eyes she could see two worried-happy faces. They cried her name and sobbed into her newly found shoulder and hugged her very tightly.
Eventually they pried themselves off of her and a man in a white coat stepped between them. He introduced himself as a nurse or doctor or something medical and asked her some real hard questions like where are you, what day is today, where do you live, and what’s your name. Apparently she was not in the club room (she’d said that mostly on instinct, she’d never left the club room, so it was natural to assume that’s where she was), and “three days before the festival” was a good enough answer. Also apparently “Monika” was not her name. At least not her full name. When he asked what her last name was and she blanked, one of those people cried very loudly, and had to step out.
Apparently, those people were her parents, according to nurse-doctor guy. She had no clue. She didn’t even recognize them. Complete strangers. It was odd, she knew she didn’t have any parents, she’d checked the character files, there were only four characters. None of them were her parents. She didn’t even have memories of them. She most likely had parents, but she knew she’d never know about them or meet them. She’d wondered about parents from time to time, what hers would’ve been like, what they would’ve looked like, stuff like that. But actually seeing them? It felt like going to a place you loved as a kid years later and it did not live up to the memories, not because it changed but because you did. You should’ve known that it wasn’t going to be the same because you’re older now, but still you expected it to be just like your memories.
That’s what it felt like.
Underwhelming.
The nurse-doctor guy then explained that she’d been in a coma for a few days after getting hit in the head during a fight. Apparently she intervened in the fight. He made sure to emphasize that, and she wondered if her parents had any word on that. But the circumstances weren’t very important, what was more important was that she had brain damage. Most surely brain damage. They’d even taken a CT scan on her brain, which he showed her, and she couldn’t understand it at all. For a couple of reasons, one being that she wasn’t a doctor, and the other that it was just static. He gestured to parts of her brain that were “abnormal” and she couldn’t tell any small detail apart. It all just kinda faded into moving little spots in her vision.
He apparently took note of her squinting and leaning closer to it, as he then brought up how even though she woke up, she still needed to stay in the hospital to monitor her health.
Once her parents (apparently) walked in again, one tear stricken, she began to ponder. To think. Wonder even. There was no way this was the game, or at least the same game. There were way too many characters, she was outside the club room, and better yet, the world rendered outside of the players view. She’d like to believe that the club was just some sick, weird dream she had in this coma (apparently) yet…she couldn’t. Her vision was still just as staticky as before, she still could hear that horrible screaming (or ringing?), and she still felt horribly terrified. Not to mention how she couldn’t remember anything more than what she already knew in that “dream.” Usually once you wake up from a dream you remember what reality looks like, what’s logical and what’s not, and that you’re safe.
She didn’t feel any more safe.
“Monika?” One of her parents asked, looking over, she saw her dad looking strikingly worried.
“Yes?”
Silence answered her, thick with words she couldn’t grasp, just slipping between her fingers and leaving her stranded on that bed.
“How was your day?” His voice shook, and now she could realize he had quite a thick foreign accent.
“Good.”
“Good.” He nodded and continued to stare at the floor.
Another silence answered, tension thick in the air, choking her, and clearly her mom too, as she sobbed again, dragged her hands across her face and rubbed at her eyes. After a few moments of quiet crying she reached out and held her hand. From there she could see that she actually had the same hands as her mom, which was odd to notice.
“You have some cards.” Her dad interrupted, still not looking up from the floor. Looking to the side, to her surprise, yes, she did have cards. Quite a lot actually. She knew she was meant to be popular, but she hadn't expected to actually have so many people care about her. It was like, seven cards at least.
Using the hand not being held she picked up the card closest to her. It was from a teacher, one whose name she didn’t know (awesome), vague words about getting better and hoping to see her soon, kinda teasing and lighthearted, clearly trying to make light of a pretty awful situation.
The next card wasn’t from any one person, but apparently a whole group of people. It was filled with little quotes saying essentially “get well soon!” From a huge amount of people. It was clear which people got to the card last because of their tiny little quote and even tinier signature. She chuckled a little, she had no idea so many cared for her.
But as she picked up the next card and opened it to “Dear Monika” in that familiar handwriting, she realized she didn’t want to read these cards anymore. Not from Sayori. Sayori, the girl she killed (or did she? Can you kill something not alive? Did it matter? God her head hurts)
Nobody commented on her putting the cards down early. She was glad.
“So did you get my card?” That was a few weeks ago, she’d been discharged after she showed no physical symptoms (only neurological), so long as she routinely checked in, and always had someone around who was prepared to call 911 if she so much as forgot a word.
“Yeah.” She had no idea, she actually had no idea who this girl was at all, much less if she got her card.
“Did you like it?”
“Yeah.” God it was bright at school, and loud, and annoying. She’d completely forgotten her classes and where they were, so she was being led around by this girl who she was probably friends with. Apparently.
“Hey, are you good?” She could already see the girl reaching for her phone in her pocket.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She grabbed her arm and moved it from her pocket and surely her phone, “I’m just…I’m tired I guess.”
“Man if I ever see him, I’m gonna beat his ass.” The girl hissed.
“What?”
“That fucking, guy! You know, the guy who hit you!” The girl swung around and vented her angers, “He’s the one who caused your coma! And your memory loss! And made you all tired and shit!”
It then occurred to her she didn’t really know the full story, “Sorry, I don’t—he what? I don’t really know what happened.”
“Yeah of course you don’t.” Tears seemed to be welling up in her eyes, which she rubbed away with her sleeve, “This guy got into some sorta fight. Which is weird because he totally didn’t seem like a type to fight, like at all. But during this fight he tried to shove the other guy, but ended up shoving you on accident, cuz you were trying to break it up or—or something. Anyways this fight was on the stairwell and like some sorta I don’t know, horror movie, the rails broke and you pretty much landed on your head. It…God Monika it was horrific. I’ve never…I saw it. It was…God it was so bad. I thought you died. I mean you just laid there for so so long. I mean it was probably just five seconds but. God. Anyways, you moved and the room took a breath I swear, a handful rushed to help you and he bolted. You said you were fine and you…you seemed fine. I mean this was at lunch and you made it all the way to the end of the day and even went home. But then you didn’t show up the next day. And rumors spread, and I swear, everything thought you died. Especially when you didn’t show up the next day either. Eventually the teachers came up and said that you were in a coma, and to send you our best regards.
Monika, those days were the scariest in my life.”
“Oh.” Wow isn’t she smart. Someone tells her some horrific story of her seemingly dying and all she can respond with is “oh” wow.
She’s awesome.
Well, it’s not like it matters, after all.
Nothing’s real.
Why’s she even making conversation? Why’s she even going to class? She should be looking for the player, looking to access the files, looking to be real. Because how long is this “reality” going to last? How long until she’s falling through that same void, that same nothingness? How long until she’s trapped in a room again?
No, she’s doing this to appear normal. To appear sane. To pretend everything’s okay.
But everything isn’t okay. In fact, everything’s pretty not okay. Even the player knows, why pretend this game is normal when everyone knows it isn’t? Who’s she pretending for? Herself?
“Well I better get to class.” God she’s stupid. Stupid at best. She’s sure when she rounds that corner Sayori or Yuri or Natsuki or someone’s gonna call her bluff. Or God forbid the player.
But she rounds the corner, and nothing. Nobody’s there. Just herself and her thoughts. She rounds another corner expecting the same thing, and there’s nobody. Her heart’s hammering. Why? Why is she so scared? There’s nothing. Is she hoping to see someone? To have them yell at her, ask why’s she’s playing pretend. She’s sprinting now, when’d she start sprinting? Rounding corner after corner after corner. Checking behind her just to be sure. Nobody was behind her. Nobody was around any corner. Nobody was there. Nobody called her out. Not even the girl who was leading her around. It was empty. So. So empty.
“Monika?” Her foot caught on her heel and she fell gracelessly to the ground. She didn’t know that voice, and looking at the face, she didn’t know that face.
“Holy—I mean. It’s good to see you!” His hand reached out to her and she pushed herself off of the ground. He retracted his hand.
“You’re a bit early.” That’s right, she’d come before school started so that she’d be able to make it to all of her classes. That’s why the halls were empty.
“I like to be prepared.” She dusted imaginary dirt off of her skirt.
“Would you like to come in? Class doesn’t start for another five minutes.” She checked the plague on his door, it was the same one from the note.
“Sure.” It wasn’t like she had much better to do.
“Your bag’s right there.” He pointed over to a desk where a bookbag sat, hers…apparently. It’d been dropped off at her first class so that she wouldn’t need to drag it through school while getting acquainted with the building.
“Thank you.” With a huff, she tugged the bag from the seat and into the ground. She didn’t know her bag weighed a million pounds but alright. Sure.
“No homework huh?” He asked with a light chuckle, she’s almost certain she has homework. She’s been out for at least a month.
She just shrugs, what’s the point? She’ll just access the code again, and she’ll do the same stupid shit she did before. And the player will hate her all over again. She’s like some sick dog, always doing the same things over again. What’s highschool grades matter when college isn’t real?
“Hey, if you’re not feeling alright I’m here, this is gonna be hard, but you don’t have to do this alone.”
“Ah, it’s alright! I’m just not really feeling up for homework right now, ahaha.” She waves off as an instinct, always be perfect. But God is she doing a dog-shit terrible job at being perfect. Can’t even do homework, “also my doctor said I’m not meant to be looking at screens for a while, haha!”
“Oh why’s that?”
“Uhhhh” she’d honestly not paid attention to why, either that or she wasn’t told, honestly those weeks of recovery were a blur, “I think it wasn’t good for my eyes.”
“Well I guess I’ll have to print your work for you, haha.”
“It’s good practice for my club!” She replied, it only occurred to her now that she recognized this room. She knew this room well. So well. Too well.
This was the club room. Where everything happened. The closet was slightly open, and she could see Natsuki’s manga peaking through the door. Mocking her. Of course, of all the rooms she stumbled into, it was the club room. Of all rooms.
She could’ve burst out laughing or crying right then and there. But opted to just pretend everything was okay. Everything was awesome and she’s awesome. She’s perfect.
Wonderful.
“Oh! Speaking of your club, the festival went well! A few new people even offered to join, but because you were uh—out of school, the school has suspended their applications. So when you have the time, please let them in, haha.”
New people? Despite all her worrying about the festival, she’d completely forgotten about it. That kinda happens to you when reality falls apart and you die. You forget about festivals. God it felt so long ago, despite being at most a month ago, and her not remembering most of that month.
“Yeah I’ll—I’ll do that.”
“Thank you Monika…It’s good to see you back, the class has felt empty without you.”
“It’s good to be back.”
What a fucking lie.
Turns out the class wasn’t a Language Arts class but Philosophy, of all things. Looking back it makes sense, she recalls some vague idea of philosophy driving her decisions. They were going over Stoicism, or rather just getting introduced to it, something about some sad king, she didn’t really care or remember. All her words just blended together in her notebook which she wasn’t even sure was her philosophy notebook. She’d written down about one sentence and a shit ton of scribbles and they were all equally legible.
The bell rung both sooner and later than she’d expected as the class managed to both drag and drag and sprint right by her. She hated the sound of that bell, blasting right into her skull and shaking her brain around like a maraca.
But what she hated the most was the mundaneness of it all. Like this was just a normal day. Like she didn’t delete the entire world just three weeks ago, like this wasn’t some game, like they all didn’t know. They all knew. They had to. They all knew what she did and they’re mocking her for it. Laughing at her, and it’s bouncing off her skull in some horrific ringing. Why won’t it stop ringing?! Isn’t the bell meant to stop after like ten seconds?
She slung her bag over her back and stormed out of the room, someone might’ve called out her name but she was far too confused and angry and stressed out to care.
However upon exiting the room and entering the bustling and way too loud and way too crowded hallway she realized she didn’t know where her next class was. She wasn’t paying any form of attention when that girl had showed her around the school, and now she was fully lost.
“Hey! Monika! You just stormed out! It’s been forever!” A voice called behind her, maybe her one saving grace.
“Sorry! Haha! Guess I got too caught up in my head!”
“Holy shit it’s like, actually you!” Suddenly she was wrapped up in a hug, a very tight hug, “I know I literally just saw you in class but man it’s one thing to see you and another to like—shit you’re here!”
“Yeah, I was just discharged yesterday, hey uh…I uh…” damn her stupid pride, “nevermind.” FUCK!
“Dude cmon, we’re gonna be late, ohhh everyone’s gonna freak!”
Oh, they must share the next class.
She’s probably going to have a breakdown at lunch. She can feel that panic welling up in her chest. Her arms all jittery and full of energy and the will to just scream and tear at the walls was ever present. She wasn’t going to freak out now, she’s probably got a few hours before she needs to hit something.
She’s so out of control of everything. Including herself.
She should aim for lunch, she can probably make it to lunch. That way she can hide with the vapers and the lonely kids in the bathroom while she screams and pulls her hair out. That would also mean she could freak out for as long as she wanted without any teachers looking for her.
“Okay okay, you just stand there and—“ she really really didn’t have the time for some prank. That would cut her breakdown time in half, she’s sure of it. Not to mention all the eyes on her, and she’d have to pretend everything’s alright while everyone’s talking to her. Yeah, she didn’t have the energy for that. Not if she wants to break down during lunch.
Upon entering the room she noticed a seating chart on the board and a small group of students surrounding it and shuffling to their new seats. Oh thank the lord, she didn’t want to have to explain how she didn’t know which seat was hers without drawing attention. Popularity didn’t mean she was exempt from bullying, and not knowing her seat was more than enough to get bullied for. She’s honestly shocked she hasn’t been picked on yet for getting her head smashed in, but she’s sure it’s not going to be long. She’s an easy target, and given how not great she’s feeling, she’s sure the moment she lashes out it’ll be like seagulls to a bag of chips.
Walking up the to board, she found her seat on the very opposite side of the teachers desk where it seemed the lights were broken, because that entire corner was rather dark. She wasn’t complaining though, lights really were hurting her eyes, and being far from the teachers meant she wouldn’t get called on as much, and their voice would be quieter.
The late bell rang and she winced, God will it ever be quiet? Students began to shuffle to their seats while complaining quietly. The students that sat next to her seemed rather quiet: hunched posture, avoiding eye contact, anime pins in their bag. Okay that last comment wasn’t necessary and kinda mean. And also not accurate, Natsuki was one of the loudest people she knew. But Natsuki didn’t put anime pins in her bag so who knew. Nope, still mean. Look, all that matters is that they don’t scream into her ears, and it looks like they won’t, so she’s okay with that.
“Good Morning class.” the teacher walked into the room and received a mumbled “good morning” back from a few students.
Upon entering the room, the teacher began to play some songs, rather soft, and most likely for study given how immediately the class began to type upon their computers, but God it was nice in that corner. That dark, quiet corner, with soft music that droned out any irritating typing. And loathe as she is to admit it, her eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier, and though the desk and her arms weren’t very comfortable, she was very tired.
“Monika!” She snapped awake to a few chuckles, “I understand you just got back, but I do not give special privileges.”
“Oh, sorry.” Her face burned, even though she couldn’t see it, she was sure she was bright red. And she was sure that made it worse. When did she let herself go like this? When had she even fallen asleep in class before? God this wasn’t like her.
As she turned to grab her computer from her bag (don’t look at screens be damned) she noticed a packet of paper against her desk, the same that was used to snap her awake. A study packet about addictions. Looking at the back, she found the due date to be in three days.
At least it was something to do.
The bell rung and she wished she could rip the speaker out of the walls about one question through the packet. Turns out the packet wasn’t just medial work but was actually really fucking hard. Though that might also be because she had to reread every line just to understand what it was saying, and half the time she just gave up and moved into the next line.
“Oh, Monika, make sure to give this to—I—to room 304, you’re next class I mean.” Her teacher handed her a slip of paper, her face oddly pale and oddly horrified.
“Mhm!” She nodded as she took the paper, secretly grateful that she wouldn’t have to wander about to find her next class. Or potentially skip it. She could’ve just skipped it, pretended she got nauseous or something and needed to lay down…For an entire hour, yeah right. And what about tomorrow?
Why is she even debating it? Why’s she care so much about school? It’s not like it’s real, she’s in a game, a game! A fucking dating sim! Who cares about school? Who cares about good grades? Who cares about college or looking good? She should kick down a trash can and scream and punch something or throw a fit or something! This game isn’t in control of her! She can do whatever she wants! She can be as unpredictable as she wants!
“I was told to bring this to you.” She handed her paper to her teacher in room 304.
“Thank you Monika!”
“You’re welcome!”
So much for being unpredictable.
Language Arts, as it turns out, was actually her 3rd class, or technically her 2nd period as philosophy was a 0 period. They were analyzing, ironically, poetry. Oh how the world loves to mock her. Someone snickered actually, so it seems her class loves to mock her too. It was bound to happen when she stood aimlessly for around thirty seconds looking for her desk before her teacher had to point her to her seat. God look at the looser girl who doesn’t even know her seat! Hahaha!! Look at how concussed she is!!! Hahahahahaha!!!
By the time the bell rang again, she’d been stewing in so much shame and anger that when the bell rang, she verbally exclaimed. She didn’t really say anything, just yelled when it shook her head that already felt far too full of water and sloshed it out of her ears all over the table and ground. And everyone looked at her all weirdly. And it was just too much. Far too fucking much. So she slung her bag over herself and damn near ran out. Eyes burning and face burning and everything burned while it felt that ice water was being injected into her skin. Just. So full of shame.
And she stormed to the bathroom because where else was she going to scream and pull her hair out and sob? With a cry she slammed her bag into the ground, completely ignoring the possibility of breaking her computer—actually no! She hopes it breaks! Fucking dunbass computer. Shit! Fucking computers. She hates computers! Trapped in one, mocking her! Now she can’t even look at one! How fucking ironic! How fucking ironic that she can’t even look at a computer! Hahaha!! Look at Monika! Trapped in a computer and now she can’t even look at one!! Wouldn’t that be so funny?? Ha. Ha. Ha.
She kicked her bag with a cry, God that felt good. She kicked it again.
“Stupid fucking bag.” She hissed through tears, kicking it again and again, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
She couldn’t even tell if she was imaging anyone as that bag, and if she was, who she was imagining.
“I hate you.” She growled, she’d like to scream but it’d draw too much attention, she’s sure of it, “I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you.”
She wasn’t sure when she started crying, but eventually she found her vision impossible to see through her tears, and her kicks slowly became weaker and weaker until she was just standing above her abused bag crying and whispering about how she hated it.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled after far too long, “I don’t hate you.”
Why was she apologizing to a bag?
“I don’t hate you.” Her voice broke and she just stood there and sobbed like some fucking child, “I’m sorry.”
She squatted down and opened the bag with shaking hands, she couldn’t even hold the zipper right and checked to see the damage. Shit, that’s right, her computer was in there. Her heart dropped right through the floor. Her computer was in there.
In a hurry she opened the computer to find broken, spiderwebs cracking across the screen. Shit shit shit shit, maybe it was salvageable. Shit were there cameras in the bathroom? God she hopes not. Shit she really really hopes not. Wait there couldn’t possibly be cameras in the bathroom. So if she just pretends she dropped this maybe she can work with this. Yeah. Yeah maybe. So long as nobody saw her…Nobody saw her right?
With shaking hands, she slowly closed the shattered computer and dropped it back into her bag and peaked out into the hallway. Nobody, and she hasn’t heard anyone come in. Of course she was also very distracted kicking her bag, but she’d probably notice someone walking in. Or at least they’d probably notice her and she’d notice them noticing her.
The bigger problem is the fact that she spent twenty minutes kicking her bag and crying (she checked the time) and she’s sure that counted as skipping. Also, she didn’t know what room her next class was, so unless she was planning on checking every classroom looking like she just cried her eyes out (because she did), she was stuck skipping. Breaking a computer and skipping? Oh she’s so fucked. What’s wrong with her? Why’s she acting like this?
Whatever, kicking her bag had done nothing good for her, so maybe she should just go on a walk or something. Yeah, she’s already skipping anyways, might as well have a good-ish time doing it.
Fuck it, maybe she could say she dropped her computer and had to return it and that’s why she didn’t go to class…yeah no. She’s not doing that.
So she slung her beat up bag over her shoulder and walked downstairs. And walking downstairs she found a broken railing. A broken railing right above some other stairs…Holy shit. She knew that it had to have happened somewhere but…it felt like looking at her own corpse.
Reaching the bottom, right where she must’ve landed, she found a faint stain on the ground. A blood stain. Her blood stain. She had a blood stain.
Holy shit.
Actually she was flabbergasted that the stairwell was still in use, but she supposed it made sense. And besides, the bloodstain was faded and small, and the broken railing had some shitty replacement that kept people from falling. But still, it was surreal to see, like looking at her own murder scene.
Well, what was made to look like her own murder scene, it was curated to tell a fake story she didn’t even remember. She had to be told this story, she wasn’t even aware of it. And yet it apparently happened to her. Yeah right.
Everything was fake anyways.
She moved on.
She walked right to what she was sort of kinda sure was meant to be an exit (she’d just followed the exit signs) when she overheard arguing from the principal’s office (she knew it was the principal’s office because of the sign, which she was very grateful for). She didn’t like to say she was a gossip, but gossip from the principal? Look, if it’s actually serious she’ll keep it secret.
“Have you seen her eyes? They’re so dilated I couldn’t see her iris! I honestly got worried that she was doing drugs! But now I wish she was! She shouldn’t be in school, she should be in the hospital.”
Nope.
Nope.
Nope.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. They’re talking about someone else. They’ve got to be.
“The hospital discharged her, we can’t do anything about that. And we can’t kick her out of school.”
Kick her out?
“I don’t want her kicked out of school, I want her in the hospital.”
She needs to go.
“We can’t do anything about that.”
She needs to go.
She ran out of school only to remember she didn’t know her home address, she had nowhere to go, and if she wandered she might get lost. She just wanted to go home. But what was home? Where was home? There was only one place she knew inside and out, that she knew as her home.
The club room was empty for lunch and into the next class, and for the remainder of the day she just sat in the bathroom with her broken computer and tried not to cry. God she was such a wreck. What’s wrong with her? Everything was just happening too fast and too much and it was all too much. She just wants to go home she just wants to go home she just wants to go home.
She doesn’t even have a home.
She wants to go home.