(Sayori's view)
That brown case. A basket.
Thirty-four notes.
He stands there, trying not to cry.
"This is my Basket Case. I started it about two years ago."
He digs around, and he grabs a red envelope.
He opens it and hands it to me.
December 18, 2015.
To whomever is reading this,
It's my 16th birthday. I gave myself the gift of sweet release. According to some research, 126 gummy vitamins should be enough to saw me off.
I took 140.
I love you. I really do.
But I can't go on.
So, goodbye.
Rivers Sanchez.
I wanted to cry.
He already was crying.
"The truth is, ever since I was eight, I had depression. This isn't even my first Basket Case." he choked out.
"What?" I asked, caught off guard.
"I had three other Basket Cases. I first tried to kill myself by dehydration when I was nine. My mom forced me to drink water on the second day, though."
He seemed so calm about his suicides.
He went out of the room and came back with three more baskets.
He wrote a note for each of them.
Two hundred and five.
I counted two hundred and five different suicide attempts.
"Just, why? You had so much to live for." I told him.
"Sayori, be honest with me. Why do you like me?" he asked me.
I couldn't explain. I couldn't say. I honestly liked him from the day we met, but I never asked why.
"Well, I always thought you were so funny and obnoxious. Well," and that's when I stuttered.
"...you gave me hope." I told him.
"How is a depressed creep giving you hope?"
"Honestly, I thought if we were together, maybe I'd have another reason to live..."
And, so that marked the day we both found out how depressed we were.
He tried falling asleep, and at this point, I don't stop him.
I just curl up on the bed next to him.
I fall asleep.
"What the hell is going on here?" Clem yelled.
I woke up to Clem yelling at us.
"We should've closed the door." he told me.
Eventually, Clem calms down and leaves.
We just sit there looking at each other.
We eventually just hug each other for about ten minutes.
I eventually go downstairs to make some lunch.
I suck at making breakfast, but I can at least make lunch items, like... um... okay, I can't, I just threw some vegetables in bread and fed it to everyone.
I want to feel normal, but I can't. How do you act happy when your love tried killing himself over 200 times? But he seems happy.
He's really good at hiding himself.
I know, because I do it too. Sometimes the rainclouds just don't fucking go away.
Well, sometimes... speaking of fucking...
Where the hell am I trailing off to?
We end up watching cartoons.
But I'm confused.
I don't want to leave him alone, because any addition to his Basket Case could be his last.
I need to go, because my clothes are at home and I have school tomorrow.
What do I do?
What do I do?