Danganronpa: Paradise Lost

Intermission

Intermission: I Believe

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"He wears a mask, and his face grows to fit it." - George Orwell

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My eyes open and I'm in a void, as black as pitch.

Shion: Hello? Hello...? Is anyone there? Anyone?

I try calling out, but nobody's there. I look around - and as I said, nobody's there.

Shion: (sigh) Guess it's just me...

I take a deep breath, before I hear a faint drop behind me.

I turn my head around to see what it is. The pink colour gives it away instantly - it's blood. And worse still, more and more appears to be dropping from the sky, and it appears to be inching closer and closer to me? I know what I have to do now.

I have to run. And that's exactly what I do, looking back a few times to see if it's catching up to me. To my horror, it is - and more importantly, it went from a few drops of blood, to a small wave, to an outright wall of blood chasing after me.

Already, I know what it represents - the blood of my victims. Every life I took in service of Ultimate Despair. Every life I snuffed out, with the rest of the Warriors of Hope, in Towa City. No wonder I want to run away so badly. Even though my legs are now steel and wires, they too eventually give out on me, and I collapse to the floor, helpless, the only thing I'm capable of doing now is accepting my fate.

I am washed away by the tsunami of blood. And I close my eyes, letting all of my victims engulf me with their resentment.

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Am I dead? I wake up with my arms by my side covered in a blanket. I get up and I take a look at my hands and my immediate surroundings, and thankfully I'm in a bed, not a coffin. This room looks familiar to me, and yet it looks so different as well. It has the bookshelf, one or two children's toys in the corner, and yet it feels a lot smaller. The wallpaper's a different colour too.

Hard to tell, considering how late at night it is, but am I in... my bedroom? No, it's not my bedroom... oh wait, it actually is. My childhood bedroom, to be more specific. No, it isn't the other one, with its drab colours and a picture of Junko on the ceiling. It's a relic of unhappy times. Back when I was a little girl. Back when things hadn't gone to Hell in a handbasket.

From downstairs, I can hear my father casually talking with a group of his closest friends. I vaguely remember them; they're all members of the board, and they're discussing business and profits as always. That's not important - what's important is my own father calling me an alien. A parasite. A leech. A kid that he only took in for sympathy reasons and would show the door as soon as possible.

But that's not the worst part. The worst part was what Haiji did to me. It felt me feeling so empty, that I never told anyone. Not even the other Warriors of Hope. I can barely bring myself to recall such details, and maybe, just maybe, people will be better off not knowing. But still, the door swings open, and someone stumbles inside. He smells like cheap booze, and his gaze instantly meets mine. Is that... my brother? Haiji?

I'm scared of him. Of course, you know why - most of the time, he thought of me as in the way, sometimes, he beat me, whether with his fists or his belt or a bottle, and when he wanted to satisfy his urges, I was right there. Even later, it took considerable strength for me to act like nothing was wrong - even as he was screaming at them to break my controller. I try huddling under the bedsheets as soon as he sees me, yet he's quick to tear them off, grab me by the throat, and hit me several times in the face while pinning me down on my bed.