"Do you accept my confession?"

I sit at my computer staring at the purple haired girl, reading the text at the bottom of the screen.

I click my mouse and two pink boxes appear over Yuri.

"Yes." or "No."

Up to this point, I've been hopelessly in love with Yuri. I've spent two playthroughs trying to be with her. I knew from the second she licked my bloody finger in act 1 that we had a connection. She was just like me. The knife collecting, the stalker-ish behavior, even the self-harm.

I've also cut for the same reasons as Yuri. I always thought that I was crazy for enjoying it. But after finding out someone else felt the same, I felt less alone. Although, I swore to myself around a year ago that I would stop cutting. I knew there was something wrong with me. I knew that this game was enabling me. But I didn't care. I just wanted to be with Yuri. And now I finally can.

I moved my mouse over the box labeled "Yes." and clicked it.

The girl's face formed an innocent smile.

"...Ahahaha."

"Ahahahahahaha!"

"Ahahahahahahahaha!"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Suddenly, Yuri pulled out a knife and stabbed herself in the stomach.

My heart sank.

She then pulled out the knife just to drive it back into herself. All while looking at me with those wide eyes that I loved so much.

I felt like my heart stopped beating.

Once more Yuri ripped the knife out of herself and stabbed it into her chest. She then fell to the floor and the screen went black.

Once the screen faded back in I was greeted by Yuri's lifeless body on the floor.

I was speechless and motionless. I stared at her dead body for what felt like forever until I finally gathered my thoughts.

I began to laugh hysterically to myself as I looked into Yuri's dead eyes.

I understood now. There's nothing left for me in this world. All I could ever feel is pain.

I opened a drawer on my desk and pulled out a crimson red pocket knife. I flicked open the blade and immediately sliced open a space on my left arm. Small doses of blood started to drip out of the wound. I trailed my tongue along the blade of the knife, tasting the blood that was left on it. I bought the knife back down to my arm to continue my work.

I felt something come over me that I hadn't felt in a long time. I admired the bleeding cuts on my arm. Enjoying the burning sensation that they produced inside of me. I felt like a completely different person.

I bought the knife down again and cut slightly deeper into my arm.

I don't care how deep it is. I don't care how much blood I lose. I don't care if I die.