A/N: Slight content warning for this chapter. There will be depictions of a Narcissistic / Emotionally Abusive parent in this chapter. So fair warning if that kind of content will be harmful to you. Stay safe.
If you like what you see feel free to read, review, follow or favorite (or ALL of those things!). Constructive criticism is always appreciated. I can't get better if no one tells me what to fix, right?
The fact that the world hadn't de-spawned around her after the club meeting gave Monika pause. Usually she was left to her own devices in the club room, the world outside warped into a murky space-scape, but this time she'd had the distinct urge to leave the school–something she hadn't really thought was possible.
There wasn't any particular reason that the game files would contain a world outside of the school. The scripts and events mostly took place in the club room or–on a rare occasion–at one of the girl's houses. The world between those places, however, used to be that same non-existent void. It came as a pleasant surprise to Monika when, despite her expectations, the town surrounding the school ended up feeling just as alive and populated as the building itself.
Alone and left to her own devices, Monika had the inclination to go home. From what she was able to determine from her fragmented memories, her home was only a fifteen minute walk across the bridge from the district where the school was located. She also knew retrospectively that she lived in the same direction as Sayori, though her own house was located in a more well-to-do area than the coral haired vice president.
As she meandered through the neighborhood, memories surfaced of people and events that had, apparently, taken place some time in her past. She was still getting used to that. The thought that the same week that had encompassed her entire existence up to this point was now only a drop in the hat of the time she was now supposed to have lived was mind boggling. Each step she took brought with it a trickle of memories and events that she had never truly experienced. Though the flow of information wasn't nearly as intense as it had been to start, it was still uncomfortable. Something was trying to recursively fit her into a world in which she had no business being.
She passed through the neighborhood, and houses gave way to trees and fields. A crisp breeze bringing with it the promise of fall blew around her. It caught a few leaves from the massive oak trees dotting the path she walked, spinning them off into the air until they made their way slowly to the ground. She supposed that would have been a dead giveaway that she wasn't in the usual timeline since the events of the game usually took place in the spring, but there was no way she could have known without going outside. Perhaps if she hadn't woken up at the tail end of the school day she wouldn't have made such a fool of herself in front of Sayori.
Her cheeks flushed slightly as she thought back to the cringe worthy interaction she'd had with the blue eyed girl. To her, the slip-ups she'd made were glaringly obvious, but she supposed Sayori would have had no reason to question the strange behavior short of Monika having a stressful day. Or more likely, she thought, the shorter girl was simply being polite and hadn't wanted to make her feel uncomfortable or embarrassed. Her mind told her that this was the most plausible reason as she and Sayori had been friends–or at least acquaintances–since the previous school year in this iteration.
Still buried deep in her own thoughts, she rounded a bend beyond the local park and found herself at a cul de sac. It didn't take her long to find her house, though this was certainly the first iteration of the game in which she'd actually had a house to find. This was it, she realized. One of the large, modern colonials was much more familiar than the rest. Its white, vinyl siding was pristine as though freshly washed. The lawn had been recently cut, and the overwhelming smell of grass filled her nose. Monika scowled, advancing up the massive driveway to the red front door. The entryway was flanked by two massive bushes and overhung by a small balcony. It was incredibly pretentious, the club president thought wryly.
The second Monika entered through the front door taking in the small foyer, an expectant, immediately familiar voice called to her from upstairs. "Monika, please make yourself useful and take care of the bags by the door. If you have time to waste after school you have time to contribute to this family." The exhausted girl heaved a sigh–that would be her mother. She slipped off her shoes and stashed them neatly in the front closet–nearly engulfed in the numerous floor-length coats that threatened to burst from the small space–before bending down to retrieve a few bags from the mountain of groceries that had been piled just inside the front door.
She let her backpack drop gently to the floor by the stairs and made her way–laden with plastic bags full of heavy groceries–to the kitchen that she knew was directly ahead of her down the hall. She set the bags down on the island in the center of the kitchen and began unpacking the contents, plastic crinkling loudly as she did so. Some of the colder items had begun to sweat in the warmth of the house. She took the soggy things out first, doing her best to sop up some of the water with a nearby towel before packing them away in their designated places.
The process took several trips and the better part of half an hour. It had also included what Monika considered to be an unsavory quantity of expensive alcohol. By the time she was done, the girl was feeling a bit faint, her vision swimming as she ducked to stash a box of pasta in one of the lower cupboards. She hadn't been expecting the day to be so taxing. There wasn't a single time that she could remember in which the game had made her physically tired; that wasn't something she had even been aware was possible until this moment. A small part of her told her that she probably needed to eat something, but that feeling was also accompanied by increasing unease. It was the same feeling that had surfaced upon her return home, but she still couldn't determine the cause.
She ignored the intrusive sensation and paced over to the fridge, rummaging through the numerous shelves and bins, collecting a portion of leftover spaghetti and the ingredients for a small salad. She assembled the meal and waited for the noodles to heat back up in the microwave, leaning against the island and glancing around the large kitchen. Instinctively, she knew where everything was. If she moved around without thinking about it too hard her body did the work for her. It was only when she concentrated that she would freeze up, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that all her memories in the space were simulated. Fake.
A piercing beep from the microwave cut through the silence, startling her out of her thoughts. Pushing herself off of the counter and offering the small appliance a scathing glare as her heartbeat settled back to a normal pace, Monika opened the door and pulled out the steaming plate. Being careful not to burn herself, she carried the plate and bowl of salad to the breakfast bar. She settled onto one of the tall bar stools and breathed a sigh, allowing some of the tension of the day to ease out of her body.
While the food was mediocre, it did manage to abate the hunger that had been plaguing her since she awoke in the club room. Though bland food wasn't something she thought one should complain about, it did occur to her that her previous self vividly remembered meals of remarkable flavor, something she had been missing ever since her father–
All at once she was shocked by a wave of bitterness that overtook her senses, souring the already unappetizing meal. Her father? The thought had been so jarring that it had silenced itself, as though that particular line of thinking should be so painful to her that even the code thought it best not to linger. Funny, she thought, that usually only happened when she thought about the other girls from the club. Perhaps those memories simply hadn't been punishment enough.
Once she was finished eating–though her appetite had petered out somewhat halfway through her meal–she carried her dishes back into the kitchen and slotted them into the dishwasher, shutting the stainless-steel appliance with a muffled thud. Glancing around to ensure she hadn't missed anything, Monika headed back down the hallway to the stairs to pick up her backpack.
As she leaned over, fingers easily grasping the strap, a flare of anxiety bloomed in her chest causing her to freeze. Something inside her was repeating the word 'upstairs' over and over again. It was the same internal force that had so abruptly torn her from her simulated musings about the food. Finally, she registered what had been causing the apprehension she had been feeling since arriving home. The voice in her head was louder now: Mother, upstairs, Monika's room.
Just like in the school bathroom, an immense flood of memories overcame her, filling in backwards from the current moment in time. Anything the code in her character file causing this phenomenon deemed necessary to the current moment was forcefully stuffed into her already crowded mind. When it was over, it was as if another person was existing inside her simultaneously with feelings and thoughts that almost didn't feel like hers.
She wanted to scoff at herself when her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the banister, but her throat had gone dry. What could be so scary about her own mother–
Again her mind shut her out, as though she was a visitor in her own consciousness and the proverbial door had been slammed shut. She ascended the stairs slowly, each step feeling as though the air was thickening around her.
The hall leading to her bedroom seemed to stretch for ages with portraits of family members both living and departed staring her down as she went. She passed several closet doors which she knew housed a lifetime of holiday decorations, keepsakes and clothing, and nearly tripped on the long Persian rug that ran the corridor's length. When she arrived at the last door on the left, she poked her head around the corner hesitantly.
Monika's mother–a tall, imposing woman with long, auburn hair and the same striking, green eyes–looked up from the book she was leafing through and snapped it shut. "You sure did take your time, didn't you?" The voice was flat, a smooth veneer over thinly veiled irritation."I hadn't realized you were waiting for me," Monika responded, stepping carefully through the doorway as though walking on a thin sheet of ice.
"Who else would I be waiting for, Monika." It wasn't a question, and it made the girl feel small.
"Sorry, Mother. I'll try to be faster next time." Her tone was placating. She felt ill, her tongue a useless dry lump in her mouth which had since run dry.
The tall woman raised an eyebrow at her, sliding the book she had been reading back onto the shelf nestled in the rear corner of the room. "See that you do." She paused briefly, looking her daughter up and down, a slight frown on her face. "Anyway, I needed to let you know that we're expecting company tonight. A group of important executives from my firm are coming to discuss some business, so I'd appreciate it if you would keep to yourself tonight."
She strode past her daughter as if to leave, and Monika was about to breathe a sigh of relief when the woman stopped in the doorframe. Her hand glided along the lacquered wood lazily. Almost as an afterthought she said, "Oh and the school called–" Monika's heart sank as she anticipated what was to come, "–to congratulate you. What's this about a new club? What happened to the debate team?" The brown haired girl's ears began to ring, tinged with the heat of embarrassment as her mother continued.
"You need to be thinking about your future. No daughter of mine should be wasting her time playing librarian with a bunch of greasy teenagers. Besides that, the debate team was an excellent starting point for your application to law school."
A flare of anger roiled in her, and she found herself speaking without thought. "Starting a club from the ground up is a much better accomplishment than simply acting as treasurer for the debate club, Mother," she asserted defensively, her voice pitched unnaturally high. The glint of displeasure in her mother's eyes made her regret the words instantly even as they left her mouth. She tried to course correct. " It shows… initiative," she choked out. Were those words even hers? The entire situation should have been giving her emotional whiplash–the scenario so unlike what she had always envisioned having a mother would be like–but she was navigating the conversation as though she had been doing it her entire life. In a way, she supposed, she had.
Her mother rolled her eyes in the most undignified show of emotion Monika had seen yet. "I do hope you're right, dear." The tone was disapproving, holding an edge of warning that sunk deep into Monika's heart. With the conversation over, the tall woman turned to leave before hesitating once again. "Oh and Monika?" she intoned derisively. "Please keep your racketous piano playing to a minimum this evening. I'd hate for you to bother our guests with the noise."
Monika flinched. She had no intention of touching the instrument any time in the near future. The keys held too many memories, memories that she was content to leave buried in the darkest recesses of her mind for the time being. Even so, the scathing words had the intended effect, and the girl's eyes stung with the threat of tears. The woman was still staring at her pointedly, expecting a response. "Yes, Mother," she clipped.
Satisfied, the woman's silhouette evaporated into the shadow of the hallway and out of sight. After a few tense moments of silence Monika collapsed backwards onto her bed, head throbbing, stomach trying to reject her recently ingested food, and limbs too heavy to move. This was a nightmare.
As though sensing her weakened emotional state, her mind drifted back to the computer lab and the cold isolation she'd felt came rushing back. She had no power here, no access to any of the game's resources… no access to her own file. A cold hand gripped her heart, squeezing painfully. What had they done to her?
She rolled onto her stomach, burying her terrified face into her pillow. Clearly, something had been changed in her file. Why else would she be recalling memories she'd never had before? The thought that someone had been messing around with her code left her feeling violated.
Now that was hypocritical, she thought. Wasn't that exactly what she had done to the other club members? But still, they hadn't been real. Not like she was. Even now, she could still recognize the truth–something was horribly wrong with the game. None of this should be happening.
All she could really do at this point was play along and hope that, eventually, she would be able to figure out what had happened to the game files–what had happened to her. Maybe then she could find a more permanent solution to her current predicament. Maybe then she could finally find peace.