Danganronpa: Murder Misery

Prologue

“. . .”

“. . . . .”

“H-Huh . . .?”

I don’t remember who I am . . . I feel like . . . like I’m a silhouette. Just a shadow of someone, something. But a shadow of what? I don’t know . . . Maybe nothing. I can’t see anything. Maybe I’m just nothing, adrift throughout the universe, flowing in the peaceful, yet eerie darkness. I reach out a hand . . . My hand? Is it? It doesn’t feel like it . . .

The hand bumps into a wall.

. . . huh?

It takes me a moment for me to process, to fumble to the next step. I feel around the object, signals shooting through my nerves, and feeling, oh wonderful sensation returns to my body.

As I fondle the mysterious object, my body leans onto it. Suddenly, it pulls away from me, making a metallic clang. I fall forward, blinding light seering my eyes. I yelp, falling onto my arms.

With a yelp, I groan.

. . .

. . .

. . . oh. Right . . .

I look up. My name is Lillian Rose, and I’m the protagonist of this crazy story. A story of crippling despair, loss, and horrifying betrayal.

“. . . ohhhhhhh, it was a locker.” I stand slowly, turning to look at the locker I fell out of.

But wait.

How did I get here? I don’t remember. As I gaze around, I see I’m in . . .

“. . . A classroom.” An old one at that. I can see vines and plants growing from the roof and floor. I take several steps forward-
Before I can investigate any further, I hear a large amount of rattling.

“Huh?” What is that? It sounds like it’s coming from the other locker.

The thudding continues, and a dark figure busts out of the locker and lands in the same position I was in. A boy with light blonde hair and dark green eyes lies on the ground, his arms breaking his fall.

A groan emits from his throat.

I immediately panic, getting on my knee. “Oh my gosh, are you ok??”

He jumps back into the locker, cowering in fear. His eyes dart around the room, looking for somewhere to escape.

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok!!! I’m not here to hurt you!”

“. . . y-you’re with them, aren’t you??”

I blink, taken aback. “Them? Who’s them?”

He bites his sleeve, a strange coping mechanism I thought. I could see the fire in his eyes. “The ones who brought me here! The one’s who kidnapped me!!!”

“Kidnapped . . .?” It takes me a moment, but I remember.

I remember I was walking to school, and then, a group jumped me and shoved me into a car. Why would they kidnap someone like me?? I’m not rich or special . . .