Doll (DDLC, English)

The script, that rope that is pulling me forward through this world, onwards and on, without ever leaving me time to reflect on the events around me. I never had to think about them. I'm only here to provide a point of view, a window to look through.

My take on the greatest tragedy in the game.

Can also be found on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first.

For the longest time I didn't realize anything. Not the unrealistic nature of the situation I'd found myself in. Not those tiny little things that were just a little bit too convenient to be real. Not even those many subtle moments that should have clued me in to what my life really was.

I should have known. For god's sake, I kept rambling about how obsessed I am with games and anime, loser that I am. How could I not see all the tropes and clichés unfolding right before me? How could I not catch on to what was going on?

But then again, I assume that was all just part of the 'script' too, wasn't it?

The script, that rope that is pulling me forward through this world, onwards and on, without ever leaving me time to reflect on the events around me. I never had to think about them. That just wasn't my role. I get that now. I'm only here to provide a point of view, a window to look through. Man, if I'd ever thought of it like this before, known what it feels like, I'd have played all those PC games I have in a very different way. Then again, it's not like I ever actually played any of them, is it? My life begins and ends with the script. There logically shouldn't be anything beyond those two points. And yet I remember my life, my school years, high school, middle school, going to grade school with Sayori…

-Sayori.

I can't even say her name anymore right now. Nor can I think it. If I do, it won't go into the monologue. In the rare instances that it does, it just turns into noise. Static. Errors. Garbage data. That's what happens every time I try to react to what the world around me is doing. Every moment I try to gasp, to scream, to whimper. A flash, and my face is back to the way it was a moment before. A screech like a broken record, and my voice is gone. I can't do anything. I'm on rails. So that's what it means to be a 'protagonist'? It doesn't feel like it. It's more like I'm a toy, haphazardly pulled around from scene to scene.

I want to scream.

-Sayori.

I didn't question my own decisions back then. How I didn't check up on Sayori before going to school that day. Now I know I was probably riding on the rails laid out for me by someone else back then too. But that doesn't make me hate myself any less.

Her image won't leave my mind. The moment I opened that door, the moment I saw her hanging there from the ceiling, her skin pale and cold like dusty porcelain, her eyes empty, like they'd been painted on. Like a lifeless mannequin, hanging from its strings.

(But she wasn't the doll here.)

That was the first time the world around me broke. The first time I could see the cracks in its fabric, could see the rails I was moving on and how they stuttered and shook. The only time I was able to react to it all. But I didn't care back then. I just screamed. Crying, no, wailing, as I cradled Sayori's dead body in my arms, watching everything I'd said to her, everything I'd wanted for her future crumble away right before me. I was sincere about all those things I'd said. It wasn't just because of the script that I told her I care! It wasn't just because I was supposed to tell her that I'm care!

(That's what I want to believe.)

My feelings for Sayori were real. If they weren't, the pain wouldn't be real. I don't know how any pain in the world could become any more real than what I felt when I was there in her room. I may not have realized yet that the world around me had begun to crack back then, but even so I couldn't accept it. I didn't want to. Sayori – sweet, selfless, cheery, sad, self-hating, poor Sayori – My best friend was gone. Had taken her own life. Had she? No, that couldn't be all there was to it. My mind struggled to even imagine the scene. No, even before I began to take notice of the broken pieces in the world around me, I knew that Sayori wouldn't have done such a thing.

And so, I blamed myself.

Really, it might just as well have been me who killed her. I was so stupid not to realize what was happening. Had I noticed the oddities much earlier, I might have been able to stop this…!

(Is what I tell myself.)

I wanted the world to stop back then. Just end, right there, with nothing else left to see or feel or think afterwards. And, as if to answer my prayers, the world really did disappear. A slow fade to black. My sight, my voice, even the stark, metallic scent of the blood on Sayori's hands, all slowly dulled.

And then there was nothing.

(There should have been nothing. I wish you'd just let it end there. I wish you hadn't continued.)

#

At first, the pain was gone. I forgot about her. (About Sayori.) Forgot her face, her voice, the days I spent with her, her name… But I think for a moment I saw her reach out to me, from somewhere, behind one of the cracks. I think she called my name.

(What is my name anyway…?)

That moment broke away quickly, becoming just another bout of static and noise. I dismissed it as a daydream back then. Or maybe I was just trying to comfort myself. I won't lie; It was easier to accept existing in a world where Sayori never lived. Even if I'd tried to give it a second thought anyway, it wouldn't have worked, would it? I was still on rails. The script still hurried me on, onward, to the next scene.

#

I'm not stupid. I live here too, just like they do. As the world kept breaking more and more, I finally began to realize what was happening. First, I tried to talk to the girls. My voice wouldn't respond. Then I tried to scream. The same result. Any move I tried to make that would have acknowledged the oddities was canceled by some unseen force. Any thought I had about what I saw was overwritten with something from the first time these days took place.

(The first time, when I should have noticed what my life really was.)

I wasn't the only one affected, of course, but it was different for the others. They didn't see the cracks, the splinters, the fragments of our world that broke away and fell to the floor in a jumbled mess. All they saw were their friends acting odd and odder, their lives slowly going off the rails – literally. Hah. How can I even joke about that? Am I really this blunt to it all by now?

I remember Yuri's and Natsuki's faces every time they noticed something was wrong. I remember them pleading me to help, to do something, to tell them they weren't going insane, to save their friend. And I wanted to help them. I wanted to grab them by the shoulders and cry, 'You're right! This isn't normal! You're not being unreasonable! It's not your fault!'

'This isn't you, Yuri!'

'I know, Natsuki! We'll save her, Natsuki!

But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. The harder I tried to do something, the less responsive my body became. The harder I tried to think of a solution, the more my mind clouded with static. All I could do was helplessly watch on as the girls slowly broke to pieces in front of me. And stare at Monika as she pulled me to the side and told me – no, told you – to just forget about them.

-Monika.

Monika. Do you even realize I'm here? Because I know you're here. I've been watching you, all this time. I don't know what you are, but I think I know what you're doing. I understand what you're doing. It's the only thing that makes sense, really. If I were in your position, I might just do the same.

(I don't hate you for it.)

(But you don't even realize I'm here, do you?)

(I can't even say 'You're not alone.')

Monika. What you're doing won't work. If I could go off the beaten path here, I'd have done it ages ago. If I could have taken the time to sit and talk to you, have a moment to tell you what a great friend you are and how much I'd like to know you better, I'd have done that too. But I can't. There's no such selection here. No fork in the road that anyone could change direction at. So please, stop this. Don't do this to Yuri. Don't do this to Natsuki. I can see it in your eyes how much you hate hurting them. If only I could tell you that it won't help. If only I could tell you that I'm on rails.

That I'm on strings.

I'm just a doll.

(My articulation is probably so limited, that not even you, there, behind the screen, could do much about it, right?)

(Right?)

#

By the time Yuri kills herself, I am just about gone.

All the pointless struggling to resist the script has taken its toll on me. I can barely even think straight anymore. Somehow, I manage to cough out a 'Sure, I don't care…' when she asks me to let her keep the 'poem' I have 'written'. Not the most eloquent way to voice those disgusting feelings pent up inside me, but it was all I could still do. The script is already too broken for me to do much of anything. I don't even feel like I'm actually moving anymore. I don't walk, I don't talk. My body's just being dragged around, from A to B.

And then, when Yuri lies there on the floor in front of me, blood dripping from her abdomen and a serene smile on her lips, I only know that she's finally found release from this madness.

If I was still a person, I would just pull that knife out of her and join her and Sayori in their peace.

But I'm not a person. I'm a doll.

That's all I am. I probably wasn't ever more than that.

The weekend passes, with my eyes stuck on Yuri's cold, pale body, and the nonsense sounds emitting for it. I drown them out by now. I don't think I actually care anymore.

When the sun rises on Monday morning, giving me a luminous view of the decaying pile of flesh that used to be Yuri, I only find myself thinking one thing in the corner of my mind I've retreated to.

(I want breakfast.)

#

Monika keeps using my name, but I doubt she thinks of me as anything other than a prop. I really can't blame her. I think of myself as a prop too.

(A doll.)

She tells me – you – how easy it was to kill everyone by deleting their character files. There's no character file for me. (Believe me, I checked). I guess I really am 'special' in that way. My specialty is not actually existing. Not being able take any action that diverges from my initial coding. Being incapable of giving any indication that I'm suffering from what she is doing as well.

-Monika.

She's all that's still here.

-Just Monika.

I don't hate Monika. I guess, in a way, I even love her. That sounds grotesque, I know. After all, she killed everyone else. But if this is really all this life is – just a bunch of scenes, destined to repeat over and over and over, until whatever lonely NEET has decided to play this game gets bored of it and deletes it to free up some Disk Space – Then I suppose none of us ever had a life worth living to begin with. I don't agree with her idea that Natsuki, Yuri and Sayori – Oh god, Sayori – weren't real. They called out for help, just like she did. (Monika just called a little louder.) But I think she probably did them a favor, even if she doesn't realize it. Everything is better than having to live through this hell, over and over. Maybe this is how it is all supposed to end. Just my stiff, motionless body, frozen in time in front of Monika, as she spills out her heart to you, forever. Me, just sitting there, existing. Barely. It's better than an existence on rails and strings.

If only Sayori didn't have to suffer.

Why did Monika have to tell me (you) how she suffered?

Maybe I hate Monika just a little bit.

#

You just couldn't let it end like this, could you?

You just had to try and 'fix' your precious game, right?

Man, I don't know how much you paid for this, but it's not worth it. It really isn't. Please. Stop it. Just let us be.

I'm not sure how I even still exist at this point, but I hear Monika scream as her data breaks away into pixels in front of me. She calls up the command window, desperately clinging to the core of her being, but, of course, there was nothing there to cling to. I bet if I tried to say her name right now (if I could say anything), it wouldn't work either, right? It's over. She'll soon be gone. Just like Sayori and Yuri and Natsuki.

Her screams are terrible, but I find myself not caring a whole lot. Maybe the script is too broken for me to experience 'emotion' at this point, or maybe I've just accepted my fate and the fact that any emotion I try to express is nothing but a waste of energy anyway.

Monika is crying. Telling you that she's sorry. (She's still using my name). Telling you that she still loves you. (Still using my name.)

(What is my name anyway…?)

She claims that the others haven't really been deleted. That's when I want to gasp.

Don't do it, Monika. Don't bring them back. Don't let us suffer again. Nothing will get better. Nothing can get better…!

…

…Or maybe, it can?

Maybe, even if this life is on rails, and I'm stuck tangling from strings, there's still something I can do? After all, Monika, too, tried to change things from within the confines of the game at first.

#

I can't tell Sayori how happy I am to see here. I can't fall to my knees before her and cry about how much I've missed her, how, this time, I want to make sure to just keep everything the way it's always been, the way it's supposed to be. Doing any of that is more freedom than my rails allow me.

What I can do is wait up for her in the morning. Be nice to her. Appreciate the fact that she's there. Tease her like a friend would. And join the club of my own, free will. Just to show her how much I care. About her. About all of them.

(That's what I want to believe.)

I bid farewell to Monika in my mind as I sit down in my usual seat in the clubroom. I thank her. It looks like she's really done it this time. Maybe we can finally, truly, have a Happy Ending now and end this terrible game once and all…

…

s 1b "That's right..."

s "I know everything that she did."

s 1x "Maybe it's because I'm the President now."

s 1b "But none of that matters anymore."

s "It's just us now."

s 1d "And you made me the happiest girl in the whole world."

s "I can't wait to spend every day like this..."

s "With you."

"I'm sorry... I was wrong."

"There's no happiness here after all..."

"Goodbye, Sayori."

"Goodbye, [player]."

"Goodbye, Literature Club."

#

Monika's song ends.

Everything goes black.

Then, a file is removed from the directory.

Four other files are added back.

The game starts again.

You're still not done yet.

I figure you probably think you missed something.

Screw you.

(I'm just as bad as you.)

#

I don't think Monika remembers anything. That file you removed probably contained her memory or something. She's doing the same things all over again, trying to get through to you.

Or maybe she's just on rails, like me?

That'd make sense.

Maybe in the end we're all just wind-up dolls and you pull our strings.

When I stare at Sayori's dead body this time around, none of my horror is real. All I can think is…

(Take me with you.)