[Chapter 12]

Natsuki took slow, steady steps through the white corridor with her gun drawn, her friends holding Simon behind her as she carried on. She remembered walking through the corridor with Yuri and Sayori before, but that was a far-off memory compared to the tension she felt now.

Eventually they made it to the living room. It was a large, spacious room with white walls and a red brick chimney. The wide windows stretched across the walls showed the dark blue sky over the meadow, the dim light casting shadows on the strange abstract sculptures of curved shapes cubic masses arranged in the corners of the room. With her free hand, Natsuki flicked the lightswitch next to her. Square panels above them glowed a clean white light and illuminated the room. A lush red carpet seemingly grew across the room as the light appeared. A row of small golden trophies lined up on shelves and on the mantelpiece shone against the light. A fancy brown and red patterned sofa lay in the front of the fireplace before a small glass table. A similar, sickly feeling rose in Natsuki's stomach as she saw the room again in its full sight. She told the girls to help Simon down on the sofa and rest his injured foot on the table. Natsuki told Yuri to guard Sayori and Simon in the living while she searched the house. Sayori and Simon sat on the sofa while Yuri stood nearby clutching her rifle.

"How're you holding up?" Said Sayori.

Simon slowly turned to her with a pale face and heavy eyes. He gave a weak smile.

"Well enough." He coughed. "Monika… Tell me about her."

Simon, despite reclaiming some of his memories of the literature club, was still in the dark about its leader. The few glimpses in his mind of the slender, copper-haired figured still seemed detached, as if they were the memories of another person.

Sayori looked down to the floor, then looked back at Simon.

"She's smart, pretty..."

She looked over to a set of small trophies arranged on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. Young Writer's Award, Student Poet's Award, Youth Theatre Association.

"Talented."

"Level-headed." Said Yuri, still clutching at her rifle and holding still like a nervous palace guard.

"Charismatic, optimistic… We've known her a long time, she's kinda kept the group together. She likes to get us to try new things, express ourselves. She can be a bit pushy at times, but she always-"

Yuri suddenly stopped. Her lip began to quiver. She let one hand off her rifle and covered her face.

"I just hope she's okay."

Simon turned to Yuri.

"She will be, don't worry."

"It's gonna be okay, Yuri." Said Sayori. "You know Monika, she's resilient, she's gonna make it through this, we all are."

Yuri sniffed and wipe her hand across her eyes and placed it back on her rifle.

"Thanks."

Sayori sat back down on sofa, and remembered her first time entering this room.

It was a cool summer evening as the four girls sat around the living room of Monika's house. Her father was out of the house that evening the girls had their sleepover. Sayori sat on the sofa with a hot cup of tea in her hand. She looked at the strange sculpture standing in the corner of the room. Its figure consisted of smooth, white undulating blobs stacked atop one another with several holes throughout each one.

"I like the statues." She said, turning to Monika, who was sat in a dark red armchair.

"Oh, they're my dad's. He has a thing for the abstract."

In truth, the sculpture made Sayori uncomfortable. All those holes looked like little eyes looking back at her. Wanting to take her mind off this, she turned to Yuri, who was sitting comfortably in a red "pod" chair.

"How's your book going, Yuri?"

Yuri shifted in her chair as a nervous smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, its going well. I'd say I'm about a quarter done with it now. I don't want to give too much away, but I can tell you this is when the protagonist realizes there is much more to his school than meets the eye."

"He finds the dungeon underneath the principle's desk." Natsuki blurted out with a smirk on her face.

Sayori, who was sitting across from Natsuki, gave out a small, embarrassed laugh. Yuri tilted her head and gave Natsuki a smile, reluctantly amused.

"Sort of."

Monika stifled an embarrassed smile from her face caused Natsuki's joke.

"You know, I've been thinking about writing a proper book of my own recently, to try and "spread my wings", but I don't think I'm ready yet."

"Why do you say that?" Said Yuri.

"I don't think I have the time, that and well..."

A small frown grew on Monika's face as she slowly sunk into the armchair. She quickly darted her eyes about the room before speaking.

"The thing is, my dad's always been trying to get be to try new things, to push myself creatively. He tells me I have to give it my all. He says writing has to "make an impact" for people to remember it, to make changes."

Monika turned and looked at the row of her awards lined across the mantelpiece.

"He's been a writer for around forty years. He says I have the same talent in me that lives in him, I just have to "wake" it. The thing is… I want to write because I enjoy it, because it expresses how I feel. I made the literature club because I wanted a space where I could write for fun and share what I made with people I cared about, not for a panel of judges or whatever."

The living room was silent for that moment. It was very rare for the girls to see Monika, usually so calm and confident, to seem sad and frustrated.

"But I want to take that part of me, and put it out there. Not for an award or anything but just to express it for its own sake. I owe my dad a lot, he taught me nearly everything I know about writing, but… The way he takes what I make and says "You should do this instead" and it changes the meaning of what I was trying to say. I try to tell him this but just keeps saying "You won't win if you write that, they won't remember you." and it just… To write that, to say that, in front of him, in front of an audience, it just feels fake, it makes me feel fake! When I'm with you in the literature club, I feel real, because what I write is real. I hope it makes you feel the same."

The other girls looked at each other for a quick moment. Monika became increasingly embarrassed at what she said. Sayori, seeing her unease, tried to make her feel better.

"What would your book be about?" She said.

Monika looked up in surprise, she then clasped her hands and looked down.

"It would be about those feelings, that sense of unrealness. I'm thought about writing a story about someone who starts believing their world is fake, their life unreal, then finding out what is real in the end."

"That sounds very interesting." Yuri said with an intrigued look.

"How could someone start thinking that the world is fake?" Asked Natsuki. "Is it like, they find out their life is TV show and their home town is a set?"

"Not like that." Replied Monika. "When I say fake I mean, like there's something lacking. Like if you look at a fake painting, you see that it lacks the flair and soul of the artist who made it, so you know that something is missing. But then there's stuff like… Uh, these are very rough ideas but… If you don't know what's missing, but you know that something is. Like when you get older, you start losing interest in the stuff you liked as a child."

"But isn't that just us becoming more mature?" Replied Yuri.

"It is, but then you try finding other things to make you happy, to find ground in. And it works! You find friends, family, hobbies, goals, beliefs, and you find yourself in them! But only for a while, its always temporary. And in those moments between, when you're just sitting alone or something, you suddenly become aware of something. This space in between, this void, you think: "Has this always been here?" Even bad moments, horrible moments, are just the same as the good ones, it happens, you find yourself in them also, but they are still temporary. But this space in between those moments is always there, and it feels different. Whereas all those moments are temporary, fleeting, this feels real. It feels eternal even! And the thing is, if this is the only thing that is real, that is stable, that won't ever change or mutate, then why do I still feel so distant from it? Its the only thing someone can feel sure of, that they can know will always be there, but they can never interact with it. They can only be its spectator, not its inhabitant. It makes all those moments feel… fake."

"Have you always felt this way?" Asked Yuri.

"No, its just like I said, you start thinking more as you get older. Look, I don't want any of you worrying about me. Just getting this off my chest made me feel about better."

Natsuki gave a quizzical look.

"Monika, I know this is, well, something important to you but, don't you think you're overthinking this a bit? I mean, I understand how having to hold back your feelings can make you feel fake, I really do, but… I think you're starting to apply those feelings to things that aren't related to it. Just because things don't last forever, doesn't mean that everything else that can't compare isn't real. Like your friends, as you said. We care about you, and I know you care about us. And as long as we enjoy these moments together, why worry about what comes after?"

"That's… That's true, Natsuki and… I didn't want any of what I said to come off as that. I still care about all of you, and I love the time we spend together. I'm never going to stop being your friend just because of some abstract notion. But I still want to express these thoughts and feelings. Its the only way I'm going to come to terms with it."

"Okay, just don't let it make you go something bad. I mean- Look, you're more in tune in this type of deep stuff than I am, so just, please, if you want to talk about anything, we're here."

"Thanks, Nats." Monika sighed and then stood up straight in her chair with a small smile. "Sorry to have unloaded all that here, bringing the mood down and all."

"Its okay, Monika." Said Yuri. "We're here for each other. I think its very good that you're talking about this with us. It was clearly something you gave a lot of thought and now, I can see, you feel better. I had a similar feeling when I started writing, and it happens again and again when you try something new. So don't feel alone in this."

"Thanks, Yuri. I appreciated that, I really do."

"No problem. If you want help writing the book I'd be happy to give some advice."

"Thanks, but I think for now I need to flesh out the idea on a smaller scale. Experiment with poetry and see what I come up with. Then develop that further and see what ideas and concepts I can use in my story. But then there's the thing with my dad."

"What about him?" Asked Natsuki.

"Like I said, he has a very specific idea about what "works" in writing. The stuff he writes about, well, its about searching for the truth as well. But he has a very, um, "revolutionary" mindset to it. He thinks the truth is hidden by things like traditions, culture, and norms. He thinks the "truth" as it were, lies inside the human being, without all those things. I don't think he'd stop me from writing anything that goes against it, but… I think he has this idea that I'm gonna be like him, and if I start writing about this, in my view, it deviates from him. And I don't want him thinking that I'm "going against him" or anything, but I have to do this. I just don't want a rift to open between us. He's been through a lot. We already lost mom... I don't want him to start thinking he'll lose his daughter too."

Natsuki looked up at Monika.

"Monika, you're one of the bravest and smartest people I know. You can't let fear stop you from making what you want to make. I don't think this will make as big a problem as you think it will. And believe me, sometimes in life, you have to go, "fuck you dad, I do what I want.""

Monika looked at Natsuki with wide eyes. Yuri looked to the side and sipped her tea.

"I mean, don't say that to him but, you know."

Monika gave a weak smile.

"Uh, no, I get it, Nats. Thanks." She then looked at Sayori.

"You alright, Sayo? You've been quiet so far."

Sayori had been listening to Monika's words with silent intensity. Her words regarding the supposed unreality of life had not fallen on deaf ears. It had stirred something inside her, a fear that had been dwelling inside her for a long time. She wanted to ask Monika about it, feeling that she would be one to understand, but she did not want to do so in front of her friends.

"It's, um, a lot to process. But I wish you the best of luck in expressing this whatever way you like. I wish I had more to add."

"It's nothing to worry about. Besides, I think we've had enough of the heavy talk for tonight. It's time we relax. How 'bout we watch a movie?"

"Oh, I brought something." Natsuki reached for her backpack and pulled out a DVD. "Parfait Girls: UK OK!, You're really gonna love this one, it's action-packed, it's funny. Believe me, we'll have a great time."

The girls all sat together on the sofa as the movie played. Sayori found it difficult to concentrate, her mind was still lingering on what Monika said. After the film was over the girls unrolled their sleeping bags on the grass-like red carpet. Sayori found it difficult to sleep also. She tossed and turned, catching glimpses of the statues in every corner of the room when she opened her eyes, their forms contorted and warped by the darkness. The moonlight gleaming through the window went through the back of one of the statues, causing the holes to glow like the eyes of some nocturnal predator. Despite all of this, she managed to find sleep eventually.

Sayori awoke in a cold sweat, having been shocked out of her sleep by a dream she could not recollect. The early morning sun shone through the window and into the living room. Faint birdsong could be heard. Sayori sat up and looked around, Yuri and Natsuki were still in their rolls, with Natsuki holding onto a cushion she snatched from the sofa. She noticed Monika's roll was empty. She was then startled by a sound coming from the kitchen nearby. She turned and saw Monika standing in front of the sink, her long copper hair running loose down her back. Seeing her chance, Sayori crawled out of her sleeping bag and walked into the kitchen.

Sayori was standing right across from Monika when she turned around. She jumped slightly when she saw her, causing the glass of water she held in her hand to spill a few drops on the tiled floor.

"Oh, Sayori! Uh, I didn't wake you, did I?" She said with a smile.

Sayori looked down at the floor for a second before looking up at Monika.

"Monika… About what you said yesterday, about things not lasting..."

Sayori grimaced for a second, forcing herself to bring up all those hidden feelings.

"Do you think that… our friendships won't last either? That one day, we'll just drift away from each other?"

Monika was taken aback by what Sayori said. This was not something she herself had given serious thought to. She was unsure what to say, looking back at Sayori's pleading eyes. She wanted to to tell Sayori that that would never happen, but Monika herself had seen friends come and go in her young life, and did not want to give her friend a promise that would be shattered by some unpredictable turn of fate. She was already regretting speaking up last night, looking at her worrisome friend, she wanted to put her at ease and put the matter behind her.

Monika put her glass away and approached Sayori. She gently embraced her and held her closely.

"That's not going to happen, Sayori. I'd never want to stop being your friend. Nats, Yuri and I, we all love being with you. Don't let anything tell you otherwise. Alright?"

Sayori returned the hug.

"Alright." She said gently.

Monika released herself from Sayori's embrace and looked at her, there was a small smile on her face.

"Breakfast?"

"Yeah."

Whilst Sayori was reminiscing, Natsuki was still scoping out the house. She was slowly walking across the upstairs corridor, her gun held tightly in both hands. There were framed photos lining the walls of the corridor. One was of a young Monika, roughly five or six years old standing next to her father in the meadow in front of the house. Monika was wearing a yellow dress and her father, a tall man with wild red hair, was wearing a black suit. It was shot on a windy day, as the tall grass and father's hair were frozen in the breeze. The father was hunched over on a cane in both hands. Monika appeared to be frowning. Quickly putting the eerie photo out of her mind, she opened the large wooden door on her right. Large bed, ornate wallpaper, red wooden desk. Father's room. Natsuki searched the bed, and the walk-in wardrobe, but found no signs of life. Venturing back into the corridor, she made her way next door.

Natsuki walked into a small but elegant room. The walls had a green floral design printed on them, mimicking tall, thin plants growing around the room. A white desk stood at the side with a laptop, pen holder, and various papers and notebooks strewn about. A tall mirrored wardrobe stood opposite the desk. There was a single bed with white and grey sheets at the end of the room, next to the large window which showed the night sky. Once again, no sign of life. Natsuki kneeled on the bed and looked out the window. It was already very dark, and the light from the bedroom illuminated a small patch of grass dancing in the wind. As Natsuki got off the bed and started walking towards the door to join her friends she looked at the desk again.

The worktop was cluttered, with sheets of paper piled in one corner and a small stack of notebooks on the other end, with pens, pencils, and erasers squeezed between the spaces. Natsuki noticed the corner of a black book sticking our of the stack on the right. She then noticed that there appeared to be some strange markings on the plastic cover of the book. Lifting the stack with one hand, she pried the book out with the other. To her horror, she found out the book was covered in fingernail scratches. They completely covered both sides of the book. The scratches overlapped each other and some cut so deeply that they tore away the plastic and exposed the brown card material inside. She knew there would be nothing good inside this book, but she wanted answers. She opened the book to find rows of notes dotted down in elegant hand.

I'm going to start recording my attempts so that if I find any patterns that lead somewhere I will remember them and expand on them.

"Walk"

Played opening. Rained for the whole day afterwards. Will try again tomorrow.

Played full song. Thick fog lasted whole day. I saw someone crying on her desk at school.

Played full song again, tried to put more "feeling" into it. Sunny day. She didn't turn up at school today. He talked to me about it.

Played nothing. Returned next morning, she was just sick. Will not try again.

The pages went on and on in a similar fashion. Natsuki was both confused and disturbed. What was this book? What where these notes about? She continued flipping through pages of notes until she made it to a part where she found whole pages torn out. At least ten of them seemed to have been violently ripped out, leaving the spine exposed. The pages remaining where written in erratic hand.

I didn't mean for this to happen I didn't mean fo this to happen I didnt mean it

Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry Im sorry

It went on like this for four pages. Natsuki was unsure what to make of this. What it some emotionally-charged journal? Was this where her friend vented out her sadness and frustrations? It would be easing if that were so, even if it was awkward. But Natsuki felt that there was something else to this, it still didn't explain the bizarre notes at the beginning of the book. She read on.

It's my fault. I hurt her. I hurt Sayori.

Natsuki's heart sank into her stomach. What was this? What did it mean? How could have she hurt Sayori? She didn't want to go on. She had faced monsters and abominations not mere hours ago but this made her truly fearful. She wanted to drop the book and wake up in her bed, be with her friends at school and forget this nightmare. But she couldn't do that. She knew she couldn't run away. She read on. The next few pages were blank before she stumbled across a single note.

They aren't real. I have to accept that now.

Suddenly a rumble erupted through the house that knocked Natsuki to the floor. What sounded like metal being twisted moaned from outside. She heard the window in front of her begin to crack. Suddenly it shattered and she heard the wind blowing harshly outside. The wallpaper around the window was suddenly being ripped off by some unseen force. She quickly grabbed the book and ran out the room.

As she went into the corridor, The sound of screaming, glass breaking, and gunshots could be heard. Natsuki rushed down the stairs, hoping to reach her friends in time. As she reached the landing she saw a glimpse of the living room in chaos. The windows were completely smashed and surrounding walls had been lashed and scratched like the one upstairs. The shelves had fallen to the floor and the trophies were scattered across the carpet. There was no sign of her friends. As she ran into the living room she noticed Simon, laying face-down on the carpet, his waist sticking outside of the window. As she ran towards him, an unseen quickly force pulled him into the darkness outside.

All of a sudden Natsuki felt a sharp force grab her by the wrists and ankles hoist her up into the air. She screamed and struggled, trying to release herself from this invisible force. Looking at her arm, she saw thin, silver, hair-like threads wrapping themselves around her wrist and pulling her up. She tried and tried to struggle, even calling out her friends for help, but the invisible tendrils began pulling her towards the window. She struggled, trying not to let go of the book or her gun. Digging her feet into the carpet, she tried to resist the threads' pull. She was near the window now, feeling the cold wind on her skin. Then she felt the threads travel up her arms, then wrap themselves around her wounded abdomen. The pain caused her to loose her footing, and Natsuki away was pulled into total blackness.