Coma

the school

Anyway, this school was calling me itself.  Every time I went there.  I felt like I was no longer in control of my gestures or my movements.  I was walking, stepping over some debris facing the time that this school was abandoned or that this killing had ceased.  '' danganronpa '' ... What a crazy idea ... So I let myself be engulfed in this academy of condemned prodigies.  The more I walked, the more I felt a presence ... It was strange ... I felt like I was not alone.  It was perhaps only a homeless person to whom I was going to have to give a ticket but I was almost sure not.  This presence was familiar to me ... I began to make out faint machine noise in the distance.  A machine?  What a stupid idea ... But in spite of myself, my sense of detective wanted to know where this unknown sound was coming from.  My steps therefore began to accelerate.  I wanted to know.  I started pushing the doors one by one, while trying
to avoid the school which seemed to want to fall on my head.  The academy was filled with dust, covered with cobwebs or even badly clean water spilled on the floors.  But I pushed open a door.  Finally figuring out where the machine sounds were coming from.  What I saw took my breath away.  Putting my hand over my mouth, as if to keep me from reacting.  But in truth, my mouth formed a perfect 'O'.  In front of me was one of my old comrades from this crazy slaughter.  But ... He is dead? .. Was he dead? .. I took a few steps to see better.  Indeed ... Rantaro Amami ... The first victim of this game of death.  I would recognize him among a thousand.  That light green hair, all those chains, all those piercings, no doubt, it was him.  With a shy and hesitant gesture, I approached the hospital bed in which he was immersed.  Then I just made sure to see if he was breathing.  He ... He was really breathing ... I didn't understand.
No, I didn't understand.  This killing had ceased for almost ten years.  Why was he still there ?!  Not that it bothers me ... It's just that I saw him die.  I saw his corpse.  Him who was so mysterious and who was in some way very reserved.  I always wanted to know him better.  I mean, I guess we hit it off before 'his end'.  I already had the impression that he was the only one who understood me.  I looked up puzzled.  This room was impeccable ... It disturbs me ... Why does it disturb me so much, would you say?  Simply because no vines were invading the room, no dirty water infected the floor, none but no dust was visible.  There was even a bouquet of flowers lying on the nightstand right next to his bed.  Yet another detail ... Last week, I also inspected the building and none of it was there.
No Rantaro, no hospital room and neither, no clean room ... I sighed, looking back down at my old comrade with a slight smile on my lips.  Who was behind it all?  Was Rantaro the only one who survived?  Who took care of him?  Who had brought it here?  Who could have cleaned this room from bottom to bottom?  Unconsciously, I had put my hand on Rantaro's cheek, having started to gently caress it, lost in thought.

No matter how much I tried to change the end of these events, I was still dying.

 Is this the reality?
 Or an endless nightmare.
 I no longer knew ...
 I was lost