𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 | Inquisitormaster & Zsquad| Danganronpa

꩜ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟕 ꩜|| 𝐖𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭.

JUNIOR YEAR - DECEMBER

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

Trigger Warnings for this Chapter: Heavy mentions of m*rder/killing

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

~Alex's POV~

"We can get started. We'll start with your basic information, and then we can go on with the questions. If you want to leave at any time, or want to bring in your mother, you have the right to." The taps of the files echo through the room, thunder in a quiet night. "Name?"

"Alex Einstein."

Scribbling. "Age?"

"Sixteen."

More scribbling. "Birthday?"

"May 1st."

"Parents or Guardians?"

"Valora Einstein."

The scribbling is chalk to my ears, and I have to wedge my hands between my knees to keep myself from putting them over my ears. He questions, "Status?"

"My mom is a fashion marketing specialist. She helps me... sometimes."

"Your father?" He looks up from his clipboard, bringing the hand he's holding with his pen to his chin.

My mouth feels dry, like sandpaper on my tongue, as I keep my lips from drying out. There's rarely a time when I can feel comfortable talking about it, or when it would feel appropriate. Now, it was, but even then, the words felt routine. "Deceased."

To my sympathetic confession, he offers me a hum before returning to the clipboard. "Other family?"

"Close by?" When he nods, I answer, "My brother, Light Einstein."

"Light?"

Slowly, I incline my head. "It's a nickname."

"Okay," he'd dragged his response. I hear him drop the perpetrator of the scribbling, and that's my sign that it's time to look up. The officer interrogating me doesn't remind me of a typical officer. He lacks the vest that wards off all criminals and the belt-wielding materials the average person wouldn't be caught with, but retains the strictness an officer would have, especially the taunt wrinkle between his thick eyebrows. The white button-up he wears is freshly ironed, and it complements the tousled brown of his hair. Chocolate brown. "Do you know why you're here?" He asks me, folding his hands together. There, I get a glimpse of the glimmering band of his watch on his wrist.

"Maybe. About me going missing and, uh... The student council?"

"We'll address them in chronological order, the three points." The emphasis on the number makes me uncomfortable. I'm only aware of two things. My disappearance, and a rumor of a video spreading around involving the student council. I don't have the details of this video, and with everything else derailing my train of thought, finding them would only make things worse. However, whatever this third topic is, the only knowledge of it existing looms behind me, a haunting shadow waiting for me to screw up.

I try to think of anything, but nothing fits together. After Christmas, Drake and I were sent home. As promised, we were evaluated. They'd run the tests, take some blood, and do some stuff regarding our brain. They told me I was fine. But, regardless of my protests, the advice to stay at home was enforced. At least I got to see my friends open their gifts, so that's something. During the break, the doctor's concern lingered in my mind. They'd watched me, their pens would fly across the clipboard, then fall into conversation with one another before worry struck their faces. Their faces weren't reassuring. I loved it. I wanted them to watch me, I wanted to see the flickers of confidence wane. What if there was something wrong? I hoped something was, somewhere deep inside of me. Obviously, I'd be devastated, and the urge for that feeling clawed at my heart, digging its claws inside and tearing it open. A doctor came in to tell my mom what was wrong, and my nails dug into the edge of the cot as I waited. They'd left the room to talk. I never got to see those charts.