Despair's Little Game (Book 1)

9. Ghost in the Back of Your Head (Suicide Trigger Warning)

Kyoko dodged forward as Munakata ran at them, sword still raised. His reasons for attacking seemed to have changed entirely. He wasn't shouting anymore, he certainly seemed rather calm for someone who had just heard the last words of Ryota Mitarai.

Kyoko took calculated steps, dodging and running whenever possible. Makoto could see that she was worn out, and he looked around for any chance that he could be helpful.

"Look over there! We can be safe for a little bit over in there!" Makoto pointed to a room all the way across the hall, the door was open. Kyoko quickly responded, tuning at full speed towards the door.

Munakata followed behind. He gained speed and was closing in on them.

Kyoko ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She was determined as ever.

Munakata was closer than he had been before, he held out his sword hand, reaching to slash at them both.

Kyoko noticed Munakata's shadow and dodged right to avoid it. She kept running. Her life depended on it. Makoto could barely hold on.

Kyoko ran, only a few yards from the doorway.

Munakata was right on her heels.

She was only feet from the room.

Munakata was raising his katana above his head.

She knew what she had to do. She didn't have much time.

She bent down low and threw Makoto inside.

Makoto reaches out to stop himself from impact. He turned quickly around and reached out a hand for Kyoko's.

Her bracelet beeped a familiar tune. Her face purpled. Blood dripped down her cheek. Munakata's blade was an inch from her head. She closed her eyes and braces for impact.

Makoto watched in slow motion as the door closed shut between them.

He heard a muffled clank.

Crimson pools slowly seeped in from underneath the door.

Makoto starred as it flowed into the room.

He backed away from it as it crept towards him like snakes.

They were gone.

They were all dead.

His friends...

His family...

His fellow survivors...

He couldn't save them.

He couldn't help them.

He felt empty.

He felt like the world around him had gone black.

He was numb.

And then it stopped.

And he was crying. Sobbing. Screaming.

Despairing? Perhaps...

No. He wouldn't despair just because his friends died.

He couldn't give up hope.

Right?

Well maybe... if it wasn't for one single thing.

The camera shots of their bodies. The video recordings. The blood pooling out from beneath the door.

He was trapped in a room full of memories. Full of death.

The pictures reminded him of his actions and words.