I'm not editing this. Sorry if it doesn't make sense, just wanted to finish something after NaNo.
Blood splatters up her arms. She doesn't care though, flashing Junpei a final smile – eyes glassy, emotionless – as she walks off. The axe seems heavier now and so she drags it, not caring about the bloody trail she leaves.
In fact, she doesn't care about anything any more. Light is dead. Dead, and it's all their fault. So now they're dead too. That's just their luck.
There's nothing for it but to leave. She doesn't care, but he would have.
It took a lot of searching and running around but finally, heart pounding and breath coming harsh, she crashed into a new room. There it was. The number 9 door. It, like the others was in rough, red paint. Not blood, like it could've been mistaken for. She could've told you that from a mile away. Blood was sticky, between her fingers, on the axe, splattering on her face – don't get distracted.
There were two? Oh, who cared. Not her, certainly. She had the bracelets, why would it make a difference what one she went through?
It doesn't make any difference, apparently. Four, zero, five. They give the digital root of nine and she's running again.
She comes to another door. The number 9 door. Oh. Oh? This made no sense! She scans the bracelets again and it doesn't work. She scans them again. Again. She tries nine times. This must be a joke, right?
No.
These bracelets do not open this door. There is no way out. Knowing that she's trapped in a sinking ship, she walks back, slowly at first. Then the rage builds again. She's lost count of how many times she's had to sprint around today. Light is dead for no reason. This was always, always just a sick trap. People were probably watching this. She wouldn't be surprised if there were cameras everywhere. Was this some ridiculously over thought out snuff film?
Perhaps if she'd been more clear headed she'd have remembered that this Nonary Game was just like the last. This was just another puzzle. But she'd lost everything, including her own mind.
Back in the room with the two number 9 doors now. It looks like a church. It doesn't continue to look like one, though, as the axe swings up and over and into the pews, destroying them easily.
There was a coffin in the back. That'll be fun, she thinks, to destroy. Maybe it was meant for her? Whatever.
It didn't break on the first strike, nor on the second.
Someone has reinforced it but she's far, far too crazed to back down and keeps hacking away. She hears knocking. Was it from inside? Who cares? Not her. Eventually it splinters, unable to keep up with her inhuman power and the axe squelches as it slams into flesh again.
She looks down, grinning.
That doesn't last long.
Her brother lies in the coffin, eyes wide open and one hand left in the air where he'd pounded at the roof of his box.
And then Clover wakes up. He's dead, she thinks, repeating it over and over again in her mind until a cry of, "Light!" tears itself from her throat.
He's there quickly, fumbling for the switch so that she can see his face, know he's still there.
She goes to him. His eyes are still closed, as they usually are and he holds her awkwardly with his one arm as she buries her face into his shoulder and sobs. For a while it's all she can manage.
Her brother doesn't stay silent forever. He has the grace, at least, to let her calm down - for her breathing to even itself out again. "Another nightmare?" he asks, gently.
"I had an axe," it's all she seems to be able to say.
Clover feels her brother nodding as the muscles in his neck tense and silver hair brushes the side of her face. For what seems like a long time for the younger sibling, he is silent, but not forever, "Perhaps it would be better if we discussed this over hot chocolate."
It's for the best, she thinks and she takes his arm, helps him put his prosthetic one back on again and leads him downstairs so he doesn't have to worry about tripping.
Later, when she's calm, the younger realizes something. Most people don't know what they'd do if they lost someone they loved. Clover does, and it only serves to make the fear worse.