Danganronpa: String Theory (DrV3)

3.11 - Scared of the Dark

A/N: The above art is my own work and for my own use only.

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My eyes snap open and I wheeze what feels like thin strings of air into my lungs. I thought I'd feel better when I woke up, but I don't. If anything, I feel worse now.

I'm on the floor...I don't even remember sliding out of the desk chair.

My throat and mouth are in pain. Agonizing pain. I feel like I'm dying from the inside, but I don't understand how? My throat is constricted from swelling and every breath I take only serves to make me feel worse as the burning sensation I feel in my mouth heightens when the cool air hits it. It even travels up my throat from my gut, leaving a trail of fire in its wake and-

Suddenly, I roll over and lurch up to my knees weakly as the contents clawing up my esophagus forces its way out of my body. The burning in my throat is more severe now, some of it even coming out of my nostrils. I hate everything about it, but this will likely make me feel better, right? I'll feel okay again once whatever made me sick is out of my system?

As if fate is to mock me, I don't feel better. Even several gags later after everything is more or less purged, I still feel dreadful. Nothing, not pride or bravery can stop the tears flowing down my face as a miserable mantra makes itself known in my head.

I want to go home.

It's pathetic that what I associate to be "home" is the killing game. It's sad, depressing, and it speaks volumes of the sad fears I've been harboring and denying for a while.

Namely that I'm scared I'll never actually get any of my real memories back outside of my intuition taking advantage of forgotten skills. Shouldn't they have come back already? Shouldn't I remember my family? The blurry face of Aika that's a black square in my mind?

I somewhat remember things a few flashes regarding that girl, but it's nothing large enough to count as worthwhile recollection. It's like I'm being taunted by my own mind.

I'm thrust out of my thoughts as I curl up and weakly shift away from the mess I've made, wiping the excess of drool from my mouth. I feel like a dog with how much saliva is flowing from my mouth...not to mention that all the fluid in my jaw doesn't help with the fact I can barely breathe right now.

Maybe it was never the vent having "thin air" or "no circulation". It's probably whatever's caused me to feel so sick...in that case, it wasn't that pranking prop either, was it?

I weakly turn my head to look for it, only to see the distorted desks around me grow taller- shooting past any reasonable desk height. My brain isn't doing any better than the rest of my body, so it would seem, but I can at least fluidly acknowledge I'm delirious.

How can a room as big as this appear like it's closing in on me?

I feel like someone has peeled my skull back and is prodding at my brains like dough.

I swallowed fire, but I don't know when. Now my insides are slowly burning up and becoming ash.

Why am I in so much pain? This isn't hunger, there's definitely something wrong with me...

Am I going to die here all alone?

I can barely keep my eyes open at this point and I can't bare to look at the mess beside me. Focusing my vision on something far away past all the desks, I think I see something light moving around in the shadows. I can't tell if I'm really seeing anything or if I'm imagining it yet again, feeling the room move like I'm on a rocking boat.