It was several minutes after the bell had rung when Monika reached her classroom. She glanced down at the planner in her hand, double checking the room number and time that was written in a painstaking, meticulous font. Everyone else probably knew their schedule by heart by now, but Monika's insistence not to rely on whatever weird instinct knew everything about this world put her at a disadvantage. It would have been easier to just let that part of her take over, but that was exactly what it felt like it was trying to do. Never before had she felt so… crowded.
She was used to the eerie silence that had inhabited every part of her life before. The emptiness. But now that there were essentially two of her existing within her single body it was a bit… much. She felt like she was losing a little bit of herself every time she let it guide her, as though it was siphoning away her autonomy one action at a time.
The more rational part of her brain reasoned that she should use everything at her disposal to get through whatever this game was–that it wouldn't matter how much of the original her remained at the end. For some reason, that line of thinking just didn't sit right with her even as she checked the room number one last time before entering.
Immediately, every pair of eyes in the room was trained on her. Some widened in surprise while others narrowed at her–though whether in annoyance or anticipation, she couldn't tell. The teacher, however, was clearly unamused as he cleared his throat loudly, her abrupt entrance having stopped the small man mid-sentence. His glasses perched dangerously on the tip of his nose, askew in a way contradictory to their purpose. How could he even see through those?
"Miss Chaunick." The disapproval in his voice was palpable. "I presume you have a very good reason as to why you are not only late, but also interrupting the learning of your classmates?" His greying hair flopped awkwardly atop his balding head as he peered at her.
"M-my apologies, Sir," She stammered, racking her brain for an excuse while simultaneously drawing a blank on the man's name. "I was assisting with tutoring in the library and lost track of time."
"Ah, a noble cause to be sure." For a moment she thought he might leave it at that. "Even so, one must learn to be punctual in order to be an effective teacher. And since you are so clearly ahead of your peers, perhaps my lessons do not keep your attention. Well then, don't let me keep you." He gestured towards the door that Monika had barely entered and her face flushed in humiliation.
Not understanding his meaning, she inclined her head slightly, frowning. "Sir?"
"You may attend my lecture from the hall, Monika." Having considered the conversation done with, the man turned back to the board and wrote a page number. "Now then, who would like to take over the next reading?"
Monika turned and exited, her shoulders raised to hear ears as though that would shield her embarrassment from the onlookers. Ridiculous, Monika thought, puffing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Who makes someone sit outside just for being a few minutes late to class? She made a mental note to leave early from her sessions with Sayori next time. Such an experience was not something she intended to relive. Curious how so many adults in her life seemed to derive pleasure from belittling her at every opportunity, she thought bitterly.
No sooner had she slumped into one of the plastic chairs situated a short distance from the doorway did the flash of purple sear Monika's eyes like a lightning strike–so sudden that she couldn't be sure it had even been there, but potent enough to leave afterimages in her mind.
She stood bolt upright, whipping her head to the side where the color had been, but saw nothing.
Perhaps she had imagined it?
Her feet were moving of their own accord, jogging lightly down the hall to the corner, hope blossoming in her chest only to be dashed when all she was greeted with was an empty stairwell. She considered ascending the flight to the next floor, but dismissed the idea outright. There was no sense in chasing ghosts. It was just as likely she had simply seen what she wanted–what she secretly wished with all her heart–to see.
Scoffing quietly at herself, she made her way back to her seat. Despite the volume at which her teacher's voice carried to her, the lecture was the furthest thing from her mind.
The rest of the day carried on without incident. Her last two classes were both college prep stem courses, and she found herself breezing through the material. Even as she jotted down the equations and answers to her final assignment for the day, her mind wandered. Between the materials she had come across in the library and her apparent hallucination of a certain head of lavender hair she was hardly at a loss for ponderings.
These topics plagued her even up to the moment she was entering the club room. She was surprised to find Sayori already present, brow creased in thought as she hunched over a piece of paper near the window.
Monika cleared her throat, not wanting to startle the girl again after last time. Sayori looked up, eyes widening in momentary surprise before she registered who had arrived. "I'm surprised to see you here so early," Monika intoned with a warm smile. Or at least she hoped it was a warm smile–she wasn't entirely sure she knew how to make those anymore.
Sayori hummed a brief acknowledgement. "Yeah, my last class of the day is in this room usually." As if sensing Monika's next question, she smiled brightly, "I forgot my folder in my locker last time." She held up the manila folder she usually stored her poems in to punctuate her point.
Nodding, Monika headed over to take the seat beside her. "Still working on that poem from last time?" It was supposed to be a simple continuation of the conversation, but the red haired girl bristled slightly as if the mere mention of it put her on edge. Monika put her hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not trying to pry, honest. I was just asking. Like I said before, I'm happy to read anything you write, but only if you want to share."
For a moment, it looked as though Sayori would refuse again. To the taller girl's surprise, her grip on the page tightened slightly before she released it, scooting it in the other girl's direction.
Grasping the edge of the page gently, Monika flipped it over. The title made her heart sink. Rain Clouds. Sayori's handwriting–usually small and neat–marred the page with jagged, harsh strokes that looked as though the words had been carved into the page.
No wonder she hadn't wanted to share. The club president pursed her lips, reading each word with painstaking care. For some reason, it felt different this time. Where she would usually gloss over the poems Sayori wrote, having memorized each of them in the numerous times she'd experienced the game, she found herself studying the piece.
The rhyme scheme was better than usual, the words and phrasing more complex. A part of her wondered if something had been irreversibly damaged by the short time Sayori had spent as club president, wondered if she had gone through a similar evolution to her own–seen the hole in the wall just as Monika had.
She had no way to be sure–after all, she'd been dead. Shuddering at that rather morbid thought, the green eyed girl lowered the paper.
Sayori was looking out the window again, posture tense. She was waiting for a response, Monika realized. The smaller girl had just confessed her deepest secret, her mental illness. Despite the fact that Sayori had already told her about the rainclouds countless times over the many iterations of the game, usually through her poem Become the Flower , Monika felt like this was the first time. Her heart clenched painfully, and she reached out, resting her hand gently on Sayori's. She would make things right this time. For once, she wanted to be the friend that the other girl needed, whether she was real or not.
As her hand touched the other girl's, bright blue eyes brimming with unshed tears met her own. She offered a small smile. "You're not alone, you know. I can't imagine what it's like, waking up and having the rain clouds there, blocking out the sun. Just know that if you ever want to talk, I'm happy to listen. I want to be your friend, not just a classmate. You don't have to try to be so happy all the time."
A tear rolled down Sayori's cheek and she didn't bother to wipe it away. "I just want everyone to be happy. I don't want to be a burden. I'm not smart. I don't help around the house. My mom–" her voice cracked with emotion and for a moment Monika didn't think she was going to continue. "My mom is always worrying about me. It must be so awful for her, having to constantly drag me out of bed in the mornings. I'm so useless." Her shoulders shook, and Monika wrapped an arm around her, waiting for the smaller girl to continue. When nothing else was forthcoming, she rested her head against Sayori's.
"Having depression is just like having a cold. It's an illness, and it isn't something you choose. Your mom knows that. She just wants to take care of you. I know you feel like a burden to her, and I won't lie and say that it's always easy for her, but she does it because you're worth it, Sayo." The nickname rolled off her tongue before she could stop herself, and for a moment she panicked, worrying that the shorter girl would be offended by her familiarity.
She felt Sayori nod her head briefly, and her fears abated as quickly as they had come. The sniffling from below her eased slightly. "I know I'm being unreasonable. It's just so hard sometimes."
Monika smiled. "Then let the people who care about you help, okay? When it gets too hard, we'll be there to carry the load." She felt another small nod. They sat there for a while, neither wanting to disturb the peace that had settled on them after the conversation.
"Ya know," the quiet voice drifted to her ears light as a feather. "I don't think we've ever really talked like this before. I didn't know you were so… insightful," she laughed. "Guess that big brain in there isn't all just for show, huh?" The crooked grin on the red head's face made Monika snort.
"You are absolutely incorrigible."
Monika rolled her eyes before leaning back into her seat, content to let the moment of vulnerability pass without comment, but Sayori's face was serious once more. "Seriously, Monika. Thank you. That was… really kind of you. It meant a lot."
The green eyed girl smiled gently. "Don't mention it."
There was a question forming on Sayori's lips, but it seemed to hang there for a moment as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to actually voice it. "Maybe we could, I dunno, walk to school together sometime?"
Monika's smile widened. "I would like that."
The rest of their meeting passed without incident. Monika had apparently chosen a prolific poetry collection for them to begin reading as a club–even if there were only the two of them–so they spent the remainder of their time analyzing the third piece in the collection. Once they had wrapped up for the day and said their goodbyes, Monika made her way back to the library.
When she arrived, she felt all her remaining energy drain away as though someone had unplugged the stopper in a full tub. Her shoulders sagged as she took in the dark space beyond the glass doors–locked to bar her entry. The few students who passed her on their way to the front doors cast her mildly curious glances. The fact that the library would be closed by the time clubs let out was probably common knowledge. Even so, the amount of eyes on her for such a simple act as tugging once on the locked doors left her disquieted. Why did it feel like she was constantly being watched?
Resigning herself to more questions than answers, the club president ground her teeth and tightened her grip on her backpack straps, scuffing her feet slightly as she trudged back to the stairwell where she had thought she'd seen Yuri earlier.
As she ascended the stairs, the glinting sunlight warmed her face and thickened the air in the enclosed space. She half expected the door at the top to already be locked like the library, but it swung heavily on its hinges as she pulled, allowing her entrance to the second floor again.
She knew where she was heading, and frustration boiled just beneath the surface of her skin. Classrooms came and went, lockers to her left, the councilors' office and then the massive swaths of bulletin boards. Was this to spite her mother? Or was it something else entirely? These were the questions circulating her mind even as she closed the door behind her and sidled her way between the piano and the bench.
She perched uncomfortably on the edge of the seat. The keys were calling to her, but she resisted the pull. There was something there, lurking in the shadows of her mind. She was afraid that if she gave in, if her fingers were to touch smooth ivory, she would be allowing it free reign over her consciousness.
Monika shook her head, trying to empty it of the ridiculous thoughts threatening to overwhelm her.
She could do this. She wanted to.
Her hands trembled as she allowed her fingers to rest on the cool keys of the piano. She straightened her spine and took a deep breath preparing to play, but then she thought she heard something. Maybe it was the door opening a crack before sliding shut again. Maybe it was a book clattering to the floor somewhere. …Or maybe it was just her overactive imagination hearing things that weren't there. And yet she found herself, back stiffened, ears straining in horrified anticipation for the sound to repeat itself.
But nothing happened.
Time ticked by slowly before the girl eventually let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her paranoia was definitely mounting to a fever pitch. She wasn't sure why she was so jumpy; the school was practically empty.
And yet it was still there, a rat gnawing at the edges of her mind. In the darkest reaches of her consciousness, something was waking–a nightmare she couldn't be sure to awaken from. The glass pond about to shatter.