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Yuri is dead. Yuri is dead. The festival is today, the cupcakes are on the floor, and Yuri is dead. Her eyes are blank. There’s reddish brown blood crusted on her blazer, dried on the floor, on MC’s hands. He looks like he’s been there all weekend. Like he hasn’t slept. Hasn’t moved. A kitchen knife is still embedded in her chest. He looks haunted. He didn’t do it. Monika is here. Monika is smiling. She’s talking and Natsuki can’t hear a word. Yuri is dead. She tries to catch vomit with her hands, the blood reaches a few inches from her shoes, and everything is wrong, because her friend, her best friend, is dead on the fucking clubroom floor.
She runs. Natsuki catches her shoulder hard on the doorframe. It hurts like a son of a bitch, more than her father does, but she doesn’t slow down. Can’t slow down. She has to get out of here. The clubroom is—was?—the only place she feels safe. Her manga is there. Her friends are there. He isn’t there. But Yuri’s blood is on the floor and it can’t be washed out.
Natsuki makes it down the hall before tripping over her own feet. She’s always hated the damn uniform shoes. This isn’t the first time. This is the worst time. The floor is freezing, harder than usual, but it feels fake. Flimsy. She can’t figure out why. It doesn’t matter why. Everything feels wrong. The floor feels wrong, the school feels wrong, she feels wrong. This can’t be real. Yuri wouldn’t… Natsuki knows she cuts, but she’d- she’d never… suicide? That’s not- that’s not Yuri, how could this happen? It’s just wrong.
Monika was smiling. Why was she smiling? How could she be smiling?
Natsuki’s head hurts. No, not… not hurts, it throbs, and she’s dizzy, and she vomits again, and that feels wrong too. Fake. Sharp. Her feet are numb. Why the fuck are her feet numb? That has nothing to do with being sick. What? No, no, she’s not even sick, she just saw… saw… fuck, why can’t she… she’s blanking on her name, but she just saw her friend on the floor dead with fresh blood on her dress. Gunshot wound. Wait. What? No, it was- it was dried blood on her blazer and it was a kitchen knife, Yuri in the clubroom with a kitchen knife, and it was on the rug, no, not the rug, the floor, in the science room? Club room. No rug. Her legs feel fake. Gone. Is that supposed to happen when you have a fever? No! Fuck, not a fever, it’s… it’s shock, dammit, and her smile won’t get out of Natsuki’s head. Shimmering lip gloss, perfectly pristine, a nice smile for the nicest face at school, the nicest girl at school. Natsuki’s always been jealous of it. Why was she smiling? She’s been jealous of it as long as she can remember, which isn’t long, and her bottom half is gone, and there’s vomit on the ground and she doesn’t know where it came from. The smile has a squid. Odd, isn’t it? Whose smile is it anyway? Her chest is gone and her fingertips are buzzing and when she draws them to her face to look, it looks like the particle effect on some game engine, why does she know that? She remembers the name! She remembers the squid, she remembers the name! Japanese, Mon-Ika! Monika! She hears piano. Just Monika, tapping away at the keys, a sweet tune.
Just Monika.
Just Monika.
Just Monika.
Delete(d) her.