Danganronpa: GHOST TOWN

Chapter Three: Paint the Town Red

Everything was as I had left it. Mud trailed across the floor, dirty towels lay in a heap in the corner. My e-handbook rested on the table and next to it, the rope. 'Obtained Present.' I grimaced, yeah right.

Still coated in a fine layer of grime from the lake I ventured to the bathroom. The shower was actually very spacious and two towels hung over a rail on the wall. Pink and green. Complete different colors.

I moved slowly due to exhaustion but managed to take a comfortable shower. I washed away any evidence of entering the lake and any evidence of finding Hana...

Deciding not to turn my thoughts down that path, I exited the shower and swiftly changed. The pants Haruko had made me fit perfectly and were extremely comfortable. The dark blue hoodie also fit well, leaving just enough extra space to be cozy.

Reluctantly I did as Haruko had asked; I folded my damp, muddy clothes and set them outside my house. Appreciating the key I was given, the door sounded with a satisfying click as I locked it.

Snatching a muddy towel from the heap in the corner I shuffled to my room in the back, once again barely glancing around the house.

In entering my room I went directly to the T.V monitor and flung the towel over it. I didn't want to be woken up in the morning, hopefully it would block out the sound as well as the picture. Having accomplished this I flopped onto my bed in the corner of the room, letting my wet hair tumble across the pillow.

Once again Monokuma's words found me. 'Such a perfect poem for you to remember!' Aside from everything else, the word choice itself seemed strange to me. I remembered all my poetry. Why did he point out something like that? I never had trouble keeping track of my poems so what did he mean by it?

I wondered what everyone else thought of me now. Kena had been so eager to hear one of my poems. Now that she had, she probably didn't want to hear them anymore. I was sure Kiyoshi didn't either and frankly, neither did I. My last one hadn't been a gift as intended. I didn't need to recite any of my others, no matter what they were about.

I figured this would be the best way to go about things, but it also hurt. My poetry was very dear to me and cutting myself off from it wouldn't be easy.

With a sigh I rolled over. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. Eyes growing heavy I climbed beneath the covers and tried to get comfortable. It felt like something tickled my back but I rearranged myself and the discomfort disappeared.

I closed my eyes slowly. Maybe I didn't have to get rid of my poetry entirely. I always cherished every poem I created.

This thought in my head, I drifted off to sleep, the soft scent of peppermint dancing around my face.

* * *

A stabbing itch pricked my back with each deep breath I took. Laying sprawled across the bed, I groaned. My consciousness was slowly abandoning the world of sleep. I tried to cling to it, screwing my eyes tighter and pulling the blankets over my head but the itchiness didn't fade despite my attempts to ignore it.

With a defeated sigh I threw the blankets off my head. The morning announcement hadn't even gone off yet! I glared angrily at the ceiling. What kept poking me? I huffed some more in annoyance, unwilling to exit my warm bed but I rolled to my feet anyways.