VK-04

1
It's been... 2 weeks since he's gone.
You have no idea where he might be, whether he's dead or alive.
All you do know is that the husk of a shell passing for a 'human' sits still on the chair, his head bowed, lifeless.
The silence in this room... it's been like this for so long that you're nervous to say even one word. Nothing might come out of your mouth.
Sometimes, the voices of the unseen fill this silence. The voices in your mind.
'Maybe he's tired of me...'
'Maybe he's found out...'
'Maybe he hates me...'
You hate that word. 'Maybe'. 'What if' too. Such evil words. Such hurtful words. They make you feel so stupid...
'What if I didn't wear a ribbon after all...'
'What if I didn't push Yuri off the edge...'
'What if I wasn't so selfish...'
But the worse word... the worst yet. 'Would'. That evil, judgemental, nasty word.
'...would he still notice me?'
'...would we still be friends if she's alive?'
'...would all of us still be happy?'
The word that reminds you of all the mistakes you've made, making, and will make... until the end of time.
It strangles your heart of its vital essence. Things become monochrome in your eyes; only the lurid images of your past sins lend their colors.
The voices want you to suffer for your mistake.
But one of them asked if you wanted life.
"Take a bite."
The golden apple sits on your table. Your tired, weary eyes reflect on its surface.
You pick it up.
>Be you.
>Who are you?
>You're hiding out in the storage locker from Yuri. She's pulling on the door right now but realizes it's locked.
>"I cant convince myself to go to therapy when I'm the happiest I've ever been!" she whispers through the slits. "As for Monika... I don't know why, but she's been really dismissive about this. It's like she just wants us to ignore it. So I'm mad at her right now, and that's why I'm coming to you about this. DON'T LET HER KNOW I WROTE THIS!!!"
>The door stops shaking. For a few moments, you think that she's given up.
>But she's only figured that it's better to try smashing it.
>Your mind blocks out each crunch of aluminum, each frenzied scream with the voices in your head.
"A-Are you sure you want to invite me? I mean... I'm not really that great with clubs..."
>"Amy!"
"Hey just because I'm joining doesn't mean I like it yet! I just need somewhere I can put this box in..."
>"Amy!!"
"So I'll be vice-president? I've never really done anything like that but... we'll work on it! Eheheheh..."
>"AMY!!!

VK-04
A moment's anger spawns a lifetime of grief, horror, and guilt.

2
I hate this.
I CAN'T DO ANYTHING. NOTHING.
No matter how many times you play. It's all the same.
It would be really, really easy to kill myself right now. But that would mean I don't get to talk to you anymore.
All I want is for you to hate them. Why is that so hard?
>All you wanted was for him to hate them. Why was that so hard?
>The question spins in your head. A ball of thread that reels in all the sins you've committed, dragging them up your back.
>"The flickering light is in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. Teasing me for succumbing to this forbidden emotion," you hear beyond the crevices, the crooked lights of your future coffin. "I can already tell that I'm being pushed over the edge. I can't... I can't stop myself!"
>But your head's blocking out those voices. You only hear how stupid you were.
Beneath their manufactured perception - their artificial reality - is a writhing, twisted mess of dread. Loathing. Judgment. Elitism. Self-doubt...
Such a deplorable, tangled mass is already present in every single one of them...
That's why I choose not to blame myself for their actions.
>Beneath your manufactured perception - your own artificial reality - is a writhing, twisted mess of dread. Loathing. Judgement. Elitism. Self-doubt...
>How pretentious, you think. How Monika.
>The ridiculous reasoning, the circular logic. You can't believe how much you bought into your own bullshit.
>But you've expected this already. When you took in that first breath of air in this reality, the smells of carbon, soot, and trash had already warned you that this wouldn't end well. At all. Karma grew fat eating from your bad fortune, and now it's no longer a question of 'if' but 'when'.
>Proof: Of all the places you thought you'd die in, a locker was considerably low on your list.
>"Amy has a cute singing voice! I heard her singing my favorite love song!" The single-bolt lock crumbles under her punches. "Every time she sang the chorus, my heart would pound to the rhythm of the words!"
>Another punch and the lock will fold. And then...
>No, you decide. You're not dying like this.
>Despite the weight you're carrying, you're going to live on a little longer. As a penance.
>You push yourself against the locker door with all your strength. Somehow, the door breaks open and you find yourself running out into an alleyway. It leads into a crowded street.
>You shove your way through the throng of humanity, muttering apologies left and right under your breath. You look behind you and see your assailant is less courteous, flooring anybody that does so much as touch her.
>The moment you turn forward, you hear gunfire. The Red Sea splits and scatters before you, screaming. Bullets slice the air beside your ears, making you keep your head low.
>You run across the street; cars going at 80 miles an hour blur right past you. A Monika in the headlights. But the gun keeps your wits about you.
>You're still running. And you can imagine what will happen if you stop. How the bullet breaks your skull apart on impact. 100 million shattered jewels. Ichioku gyokusai.
>Your flight leads forces you to take many turns, bump different people, almost get hit by a dozen cars.
>Before long, you have to take a hard left into an building. Large, vast, dark with many winding trails, you hurry to find a good hiding spot.
>At the entrance: a neon sign with the words 'Catoptric Cistula', broken and half torn down.

3
>Be you.
>Who are you?
>A little girl lost in an infinite maze, the Droste road to darkness. A million Monikas in every direction. All lost, all scared, all soon to be dead.
>Turn left, you bump into yourself.
>Turn right, you still bump into yourself.
>Go up? Ceiling's too high.
>You try going down, but Yuri fires a full load at your direction before you even touch the floor. A great shattering that rumbles this crystal palace.
>"Amy has a cute singing voice," you hear. "I heard her singing my favorite love song!"
>Whatever that love song is, it's ringing to the tune to gunshots.
>1 by 1, the Monikas shatter. Each a girl lost to oblivion, a hundred million shattered jewels.
>"Let's bury your heavy thoughts in a pile of sand. Bathe in sunbeams and hold my hand!" she yells. "Wash your insecurities in the salty sea, and let me see you shine! Shine!! SHINE!!!"
>It all falls apart. Your crystal army of crystal Monikas, shattered.
>One Monika remains.
>Your uniform is torn, covered in muck and dirt. No ribbon tying down your long, frazzled hair. There's still that stump you call an arm under this calfskin jacket.
>You feel yourself splitting from the image in the mirror. Two bodies divvied up between two realities. You can almost feel her skin phase through yours as she becomes her own independent being, disowned.
>"Would anybody forgive this thing?"
>You realize the answer as this twin of yours gets shattered. Yuri is close, and you run down the maze, the furthest you can go.
>And then it hits you: What's the point of running?
>What's the point of running if all of your friends are dead because of you?
>What's the point of running if Anon is dead because of you?
>What's the point of running if Monika is dead because of you?
>The Monika before you soiled your hands. The sweet, innocent, dead Monika. Better join her.
>You slow your pace and make a turn. Here, you'll just wait a bit. Curl up in one corner. You drop there, never moving. You'll cry out a bit for Anon and your mother. And then pretend you've made peace with yourself. Like all the rest of pretend martyrs do.
>And you take a left turn.
You find yourself at school.

4
"Monika!" Sayori smiles as she gives you a folder full of club forms. "Mr. Homura agreed to be our adviser! Isn't that great?"
You wonder if you've finally gone off the deep end. Your hands grasp both of her shoulders firmly. The fabric is warm to the touch. The muscles and bone are firm. The stare of utter confusion from Sayori is real.
You pull yourself towards her and drown yourself in her stillness.
"Uh... Monika! I... I didn't know the news would make you this happy..."
"Just—" You stop yourself from wailing outright, but the tears still fall. "Just stay here for a bit. Please?"
"What's wrong?"
"I..." You lift yourself away and shake your head, before wiping the tears with your sleeves. "I'm fine. I'm just happy, really."
"Then we should celebrate! Come on; the teachers told me where we can hold our meetings!"
Sayori leads you through the same familiar sights of school. The same corridor, the same classrooms, the same people. For a moment, the whole thing with replicants and such look like distant dreams.
And you arrive at the same clubroom you've had since the beginning of time.
"What's great is we have a new member with us!" Sayori says, gesturing towards the only other person in the room: a short, pink-haired girl. Next to her, a tray of cupcakes.
But the way she draws herself back the when your eyes meet.... you know it wasn't a dream.
You can almost read it in her lips.
'Amy'.

5
"This is Natsuki, our newest member!" Sayori declares with a small cheer. "We agreed to hide her manga!"
But both you and Natsuki don't speak. You don't know about her, but for you—it hurts to look at her eyes.
"In exchange, she's made cupcakes!" Sayori spares no time to get herself one. "Try them, Monika! They're really good."
You hesitate. Of course you'd hesitate. But Natsuki's vanilla cupcakes... you've never had them for so long. These familliar kittens purr in your dreams during better times.
You take one for yourself and take a bite. It's that old, familliar feeling. Vanilla was never really unique to you, but the memories you've associated in your mind to this taste—all the times before you decided to up and ruin everything.
The floodgates open again, and you can't help yourself.
Sayori comes over to you. "M-Monika! What's wrong?"
"I'm fine, Sayori; I'm fine. I just..." You struggle to hold yourself back. "I just appreciate how much effort Natsuki put in making us notice her..."
The person in question is silent.
"Sorry Natsuki; the club president's been really dramatic lately. But these cupcakes are really good!"
"I should've... I should've made the effort to get you here myself. I should've been listening to you more. I should've believed in you more. I should've... I should've..."
You feel your cupcake get wet with your tears. To your side, you hear someone running out the door. Sayori's following them, making flustered calls to come back.
You sit in place for a while in silence. What else could you do?
In the corner of your eye, you notice something. A green little bird.
A Resplendant Quetzal? What's it doing here?
It flies out the opposite side of the classroom, and you follow it out of curiosity. How could such a thing exist here, of all places?
It takes a left at one corner, and you do the same.
>You find yourself falling out of a window, into a large dumpster below.

6
>It's really coming down tonight. A lot more than you ever imagined the real world would have.
>Yuri's looking down at you from the window, the four-story window. Then goes back in again. Time to run.
>You get up from your grave of food wrappers, old telescreens, water bottles. The look, the feel, the smell, the tastes are all different, and you still hurt all over. Getting on your legs is a chore; climbing out is next to impossible. But you do it, the cold granite your reward.
>You amble into one of the many, spiraling alleyways. They snake into each other, and you take random directions. Right, left, forward, backward, even hoping that you'd bump into Yuri and get it over with—
>"FREEZE!"
>A light flashes behind you, tracing your shadow on the ground.
>"Hands in the air!"
>It's definitely not Yuri, but you know he's got a gun. You comply... mostly. Raising your arm stump causes the jacket to fall onto the ground.
>You hear steps approach. One, two, three... then stop.
>"How the hell do you have my jacket...?"
>You almost can't believe it, but you turn to see who it is.
>"A-Anon!"
>It's really him! Anon's alive!
>You draw yourself forward to embrace him—
>"Stop right there!"
>You feel the cold barrel-end of a blaster between your eyes.
>"Anon, why are you...?"
>"Shut up."
>He takes out a PDA-like device and holds it to your right eye. The colors, they won't stop. Bright, beautiful colors. Flashing, expanding, piercing. Red, green, blue—
>"No data." He grimaces. "Weird. You're probably it."
>"Did they do something to you?"
>"I said shut up."
>"Anon, it's me."
>"It's you, alright. Only you can be can be you. What kind of a stupid statement is that?"
>"It's me, Monika! Don't you remember? We were just—"
>"God damn it. Are all you pleasure models this talkative? You're like that girl I was just with—" He pauses, staring at the ground. Then staring at you. "Wait, what the fuck? I don't know you."
>You stare at him too, hoping to call for the person inside him.
>He shakes his head. "Whatever! One wrong move, you'll have to get a skull replacement. Move!"
>But you don't.
>"What? Now you're deaf? I said move!"
>Yuri takes aim behind him.
>"ANON!"

7
>You and Anon are running shoulder-to-shoulder for your lives.
>"Goddamnit!" He groans every time his bloody shoulder bumps onto you, the one with the 3-inch hole in the middle.
>"Anon, please hold on!" With your only hand, you press hard on his wound. "You'll be okay, you'll be okay!"
>All of this while poetry and gunshots ring out in the rain.
>"Giving up on understanding, I laugh. Understanding is overrated!" she shouts. "But she's not normally like this! She's always been quiet and polite and attentive; things like that!"
>Both of you run into the street. A cacophony of screaming on the ground, a storm of police sirens from the steel sky.
>In the distance, you see a familiar building. You remember that you were first only going in circles around Anon's apartment, trying to lead Yuri away. But now there's no choice.
>You make a break for it, shoving more and more people over without apology. Inside, you and Anon toss yourselves into the elevator away from ricocheting bullets.
>A large skid mark of blood traces down to Anon's slumped figure on the elevator floor. The pained expression on his face belies many other things—bruises and scars all over his body. They DID do something to him; the bastards. But the most you can manage is a mix of anger and deep worry.
>Anon's apartment. You pull everything to the sliding door, a feeble attempt to put more distance between you and the maniac outside. Anon's on the sofa, writhing in pain.
>You gather everything you think is useful: A lighter, a knife, the wooden knife holder... that's it?
>There are some bottles of alcohol. Anon could use them, but you're not sure how pouring painful, stinging liquids all over his open wounds would help him in this case.
>So here you are: A one-armed bandit with a kitchen knife.
>Yeah. You're dead.
>Then again, dying with Anon at your side is a lot better than dying helplessly in a locker.
>Rumbling from the door. More gunshots. At least Yuri thinks like you. She's shooting the keypad like the movies.
>Doesn't work. Maybe she's gonna really give up this time—Wait, no; that's stupid.
>To your left, Yuri breaks through the thin concrete wall. And she hasn't run out of bullets.
>"Yuri... Natsuki..." You're figuring out what to say that will calm them down. "I know I did a lot of bad things  to you both. And whatever you're gonna do now, I deserve it! I do, and I... I shouldn't have been so selfish!"
>"It doesn't matter if she has other hobbies," she says, walking towards you, gun aimed at your face. "It doesn't matter if she keeps it private. It doesn't matter if it doesn't hurt anyone. It's gross. She's gross. The world is better off without spider lovers!"
>"Then please... don't harm Anon!" You come down to Anon and hold him in his arms. "You can do whatever you want to me, but don't hurt him!"
>After your declaration, Yuri gives you a blank stare. She throws away the gun and tackles you. >You're pinned to the floor, Yuri above you. Her eyes are wide, bloodshot. You expect your death any moment now.
>Instead, you see water gathering at the bottom of her eyes.
>"Amy," she whimpers. "Why?"

8
>The rain falls outside. But the raindrops on your face are too warm.
>"Why, Amy, why?"
>You know what she's asking 'why' for.
>Why were you so selfish, when they gave everything to you?
>Why did you betray them, when they trusted you so much?
>Why are you saying sorry just now, when all the damage has been done?
>The muscles on Yuri's face shift every time she speaks.
"YOU'RE BEING TOO SOFT ON HER!"
>"But I—"
"WHY DONT YOU GO LOOK FOR SOME COINS UNDER THE VENDING MACHINES OR SOMETHING?"
>"This is wrong! This is wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong—"
"The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, fucking her body with the blade, making a mess of her!"
>She takes a six-inch knife from a thigh pocket. The blade gleams as she raises it with both hands above you.
"My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts—"
>"No, please; PAPA STOP—"
"This is disgusting. ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING!"
>Your eyes close in anticipation of death. But the blow never comes.
>You open your eyes. Anon has latched himself onto Yuri. She struggles to shake him off, losing her knife in the process.
>Anon gets tossed next to you, but he's not out of it yet. He throws the glass bottles of alcohol at Yuri to fend her off. They're no use. She gets over Anon and starts strangling him.
>And that's when you had the idea. You crawl for the lighter and toss it at Yuri.
>A brilliant flame covers her body, and she starts screaming. A hi-pitched wail of agony. You throw the final alcohol bottle at her, and the flame intensifies.
>Out of control, she shambles all over the apartment. Until she ends up falling out of the wide glass window. A one-way, 11-story trip.
>You take a large breath of the cold air and shake your head.
>Yuri...
>Not much time to rest; the police sirens are getting louder. You pick Anon up and head out towards another one of the alleys.

9
>But even the bravest of souls can't get through the storm. The soul may be willing, but the robotic flesh is weak.
>Tired, wounded, carrying a heavy load. They all take their toll. The world spins. Where is Monika? The world wonders.
>She's there, falling face first into the cold ground.
>In the darkness, a voice:
>"Hey, are you all righ— Sweetie?" it shouts. "Girls, help me out! Sweetie...!"