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It pains her to remember Joe.
Every errant thought, every smallest reminder of him only brings forth the ugly abomination of her perished best friend. It keeps tormenting her, accusing her; telling her the truths she does not want to hear.
She is a murderer. She did not do enough to save Joe. She did not vote for him. She did not press the button hard enough. With her useless efforts she only made Joe suffer more, and for what? For her to feel better about herself because she ‘tried her best to save him’ ?
How laughable, the apparition wearing Joe’s skin in all the wrong ways sneers. He knows all the dark corners in Sara’s mind, sees through her act– telling her it’s useless trying to deny how cruel and ruthless she truly is.
Bearing his presence is not enough of an atonement for her sins. He is trying to make sure she will go through the same amount of pain and agony that Joe did.
It is her fault that he died, after all. She is a murderer.
Every little thing that reminds her of Joe brings forth this guilt, the stinging pain feeling like a blade plunged deep into her, slipping into the soft organs, ignoring the pathetic defenses from her ribcage. The blade dents the bones as it passes, leaving marks never to be healed. His words accusing her for all his suffering burn against her skin like a branding iron, and she wonders if the marks are visible for everyone else as well; if one look at her reveals the terrible truths of her crimes.
The hallucinations slowly become worse, Joe’s mutilated ghost making sure she’s not allowed a moment’s respite. And while Sara did not want to be left alone, did not want Joe to leave her, this is not how she wanted him to stay by her side.
But perhaps this is how she deserves it. The monkey’s paw laughs in satisfaction as it watches on.
––––
Safalin offers her help– forgetting can be healing, she says. Sometimes it is better.
She remembers how Joe once told her that he thinks people die twice– first when they expire from this world. The second time is when the people still alive forget about them.
Sara has already let Joe die once; what would it say about her should she yet again take his life?
(Besides, she doesn’t think she deserves to heal. The abomination wearing Joe’s face certainly doesn’t think so.)
––––
Hearing that Nao bought a victim video comes as a surprise. Hearing Nao asking her to be there for her as she watches it doesn’t.
Morbidly curious, Sara agrees.
The focus of the video is clearly the woman, dressed up in a police uniform and tied up in chains. The chains are slowly moving further apart from each other, starting to stretch the woman to different directions.
But that does not keep her attention for long.
Despite the inhumane murder happening in front of her eyes, her mind wanders– the man there, he… he looks just like Keiji. She’s certain of it. She cannot stop thinking about it, what it means. The video plays till the end, and not even the gory scene that’s left behind distracts her from her thoughts.
Nao’s words bring her back. She’s shaken from the video, repulsed by the content of it. She apologizes for herself and calls Sara strong for being able to handle it so well.
The words make her pause.
Strong..?
No. That’s wrong. She’s wrong. She shouldn’t be strong, not when seeing something like this. This… unfazed reaction, this numbness is wrong.
Perhaps she’s really starting to lose it.
The arms she feels wrapping around her are warm and gentle, this time. Real. In Nao’s embrace, she regains a little bit of her composure.
––––
It feels unreal– to think that this Reko in front of her, crying and begging her to not kill her, is not real. That she’s a fake.
Yet all the evidence points out in that direction.
She has to make a decision. Despite how human-like this Reko acts, she’s just a doll.
She pushes her. Reko stumbles, cries out. She pushes her again. The Reko before her doesn’t stop pleading, not until she’s been pushed right to the edge. And there Sara pauses, her breaths heaving.
She has to kill again.
It’s not real.
She could not even properly distinguish the difference between this Reko and the real Reko.
She’s just a doll.
The doll Reko feels fear and despair all the same.
It’s for Gin’s sake.
She’s a murderer.
Save for, this time, she is not. It is Nao who comes and gives the doll Reko the last shove.
It’s a small mercy, but Sara is glad for it.
––––
Perhaps it’s karma, to receive the same card that Joe had– the same card that got Joe killed. An eye for an eye; a life for another.
But instead of accepting this corrupt sort of justice, she panics. She doesn’t want to die. There is nothing going through her head but the base instinct to survive when she starts running for the Room of Lies, desperate to get Alice’s tokens.
(The thought visits her mind, only for the briefest of seconds, before she pushes it away. Was this terror, this uncertainty, this desperation that runs through her guts how Joe felt, when he realized what having the Sacrifice card meant?)
When Sara gets to the Room of Lies, the tokens are not there. There’s nothing there, the room clean and pristine, like nothing had happened there. No evidence left behind of the horrible death they witnessed.
But Safalin is there.
The lie comes to her easily. Even in her panicked state, she has no trouble telling Safalin a tale completely fabricated on the spot just to get her hands on Alice’s tokens.
It doesn’t help though. Alice had no tokens, Safalin said.
But how..? He was at the top of the list. He should have had coins. She doesn’t get it.
The dismantled figure of Joe comes to torment her, and Sara, at that point, thinks that maybe it is okay to let go– to stop running away from her guilt.
It is Gin who gets her to snap out of it. Even as Joe’s words echo in her mind, telling her she is already broken, she shakes her head and stands up. Determination rushes through her, anger at their kidnappers for forcing them through their heartless game.
––––
The ups and downs of having hope of escape and the despairing reality of having all that hope crushed is gut-wrenching. She really thought they could do it. That they could get back home. That they wouldn’t have to play this terrible game anymore.
She feels like crying. She feels like laughing. Is this truly the end for her..? The reality of her possessing the Sacrifice Card does not change, no matter how much she would cry and plead. No matter how she attempts to close her eyes or shake herself awake.
She sees the silhouette of her dead best friend in front of her once again. This time, he’s not here to torment her with his accusations. Perhaps he knows he doesn’t need to. He’s only here to remind Sara of her choice when it all comes to this, asking her what she will do.
The thought comes to the front of her mind before she can even realize its implications:
Trick the others if I must, to live.
The distorted shape of Joe stays silent for a moment. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised. Then, he wishes her good luck before leaving her alone.
In his absence, she feels shivers running through her.
––––
The sound signaling of a card trade shocks her– she’s the one who has the Sacrifice; it makes no sense for someone else to make a trade.
Still, she gets her tablet out to see if the impossible happens.
And it just so happens that it does.
She’s confused. She’s relieved. She’s elated.
She’s a Commoner. She’s not the Sacrifice anymore.
But the smile that unconsciously spreads on her lips doesn’t simply speak of relief; there’s something more ominous lurking in the corners of her mouth that Gin spots. Hearing him timidly question her shakes her out of her thoughts.
She’s about to ask about the smartphone Gin found when they feel the sharp pain on their necks, cutting out all their senses. There is only black.
––––
She is standing at the main game grounds once again. She hates it. It doesn’t matter even if she’s not the one holding the Sacrifice card anymore. No one was supposed to. No one should have to. They weren’t supposed to be here– they were supposed to get out and escape all together.
But here they are. And the final decision comes to her. She is killing once again.
Murderer, she can hear Joe’s voice whispering in her head. You never learn, do you?
But she doesn’t have a choice– it is not her choice that they’re in here. She doesn’t want Gin to bear responsibility, but why does it have to be her?
Why must she get her hands bloodied once again?
She is tired. She is desperate. She is numb.
She wants to respect Kanna’s final wish. She was already prepared to die, after all. They may have failed this time, but surely Sou can help them all out of here with just a little more time?
The answer is logical.
You murderer, the voice says. She can feel its cold hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing her already shallow breaths out of her. She looks down to see nothing. Unfeeling, ruthless, no matter how you try to justify your actions. We both know how the rot inside has spread, leaving no part pure, clean.
Ignoring him is hard. But she has to, for them to survive. And she has to learn from her mistakes.
Holding the button feels heavier now. Sara doesn’t want to press it– the last time she did so, repeatedly and desperately smashing the button as fast as she possibly could only led to further suffering. Even the thought of pressing the button makes her every intake of breath shake and brings forth cold sweat that starts to run down her back.
But this time, she has to press it. She has to. She won’t let Nao suffer; not like she let Joe.
Nao cries out– and Sara, so weak and cruel, hesitates. Mercilessly, she listens to Nao’s pleas and does not press the button. Mercilessly, she only watches on as the contraption around Nao’s waist slowly grows tighter. Mercilessly, she ignores the metallic scent of blood that starts to drift through the air.
Mercilessly, she does nothing to ease Nao’s pain, letting her death be as slow and agonizing as Joe’s was.
Murderer.
Sara doesn’t recognize if the voice sounds like Joe’s or Nao’s. Or perhaps it sounds just like her own.
Watching Kanna’s execution isn’t any easier– the sight before all of them is morbidly beautiful, cruel and gruesome in its artistry. It’s vile and abhorrent and heartbreaking. Roses had always been her favorite flowers, but Sara doesn’t think she can ever look at them without feeling like their thorns are prickling in her throat.
You did this. You chose to kill her.
Seeing the Joe AI, blaming and cursing her out just like she feared he would proves to be the final push she needs to fall over the edge.
––––
And so, it does not pain Sara to remember Joe anymore– as there is nothing to remember.
––––
A survival instinct starts to slowly grow within her, a parasitic sentiment feeding on the other priorities in her mind. She does not want to die; she refuses to let it be her turn next.
They meet the dummies. They get paired up. Ranmaru seems to like her, growing fond of her within the first hours they’ve known each other.
An ominous, twisted thought, deep inside her subconsciousness, begins to form leisurely; it starts to idly consider how she could use that.
They hear about the winning condition: it is possible for a doll and a human pair to survive together, if everyone else dies. Maple seems to believe they could achieve victory– but how could they? It would mean to sacrifice all the others.
It wouldn’t be the first sacrifice she would make, a distantly familiar voice sounds in her head.
She does not realize the smile that creeps upon her face until Ranmaru shakily points it out. She doesn’t have time to linger on it, so she represses the thought and forgets about it.
And later, an idea pops into her head: could she end this atrocious killing game with her one wish? Could the others live, should she sacrifice herself for their sake?
But the compassion dwelling inside of her has slowly started to fester, sluggishly falling apart at the seams, and the unfiltered dirty thought rises to the surface:
But it wouldn’t save her.
It shocks her, this dark and selfish concern that makes itself apparent in Sara’s mind. She doesn’t know where it came from– it’s not like her. This whole situation shakes her down to her core. Even Ranmaru looks tormented, watching her.
––––
She had forgotten about the special winning condition. When Ranmaru brings it up again, asking how she feels about it, she is momentarily speechless.
But Sara, as cruel and heartless as she is, wants to live.
She tells him how she couldn’t do it. How she wouldn’t be able to. How she doesn’t want her precious friend to shoulder all the blame for it either. All these poisonous thoughts fed to him one by one.
And perhaps there is still a little bit of goodness lingering within the putrid debris that her soul is slowly crumbling into because despite the words manipulatively falling from her lips, she hesitates– questions her actions.
Yet not enough to stop. Not enough to properly convince Ranmaru to forget about their conversation. She only gets shaken off from her state of mind when Ranmaru brings Keiji up. And that’s when she truly startles, becoming aware of the dark and rancid substance flowing within her veins, spreading and meticulously starting to take over.
(And she cannot help but think, how easy would it be to just let it do that.)
The feeling intensifies when Midori comes to them, telling about the handicaps the strong were given. The handicap that Sara, at the top of the list of the candidates, had been given.
Her best friend, they said. Originally uninvolved in this callous game they are forced to play, brought there only to bring Sara’s chances of survival down.
It is unforgivable.
Something inside of her snaps, and before she is fully aware of what she’s doing, her body is already moving on its own accord. But instead of wrapping her hands around his throat, it is Midori who gets a chokehold on her. His grip is not strong; it is not his hand that steals the breath from her lungs.
Every horrid word coming from him, urging her to turn into this heartless and despicable person he wants her to be cuts into her like a knife. She’s left speechless, unable to argue and fight back as every wound she receives bleeds profusely, only more of his razor-sharp wishes forced upon her.
It is not until Ranmaru rams into Midori in an effort to make him stop that Sara feels like she can breathe again. She still can’t speak, left lying there and only watching the exchange between Ranmaru and Midori.
“I’ll have you disappear too, Ranmaru… For miss Sara’s sake.”
And a realization hits her with Midori’s words: her handicap was the presence of an ally– her best friend. He was the one who kept her in check; he was the one who brought her chances of survival down.
But now, when she has no memory of him… then…
The twisted and corrupt emotion festering inside her chest twirls in delight; as of now, she is the one with the highest chance to win this game.
She doesn’t let the thought come to the surface, though– doesn’t acknowledge it out right. She is not fully contaminated yet, the good and righteous in her still firmly persisting. She wants for them all to survive. She wants to leave this place with everyone, if possible.
(But if it’s not, then…)
––––
When Ranmaru brought up the prospect of winning, deep down, she knew what she was doing when she said those things to him. She knew, and she was startled by the poison slipping past her lips– the horrible realization of just how easily manipulating him like that came to her.
She was the one to indirectly encourage Ranmaru to kill the other participants, yet she didn’t believe he actually would do so.
(Or did she? Did she know he would do anything for her, infatuated as he was for Sara? Did she really use him, fully aware of the sacrifices it would lead to?)
Having Kurumada come in and take Ranmaru into a headlock, urging them all to head down for the locker room sends a wave of dread through her. Her heart is beating hard in her chest, pounding against her ribcage with each step she takes. It feels like the nauseating apprehension she is feeling has replaced the blood her heart was supposed to be pumping, slowly but surely spreading through her veins.
She doesn’t even need to enter the locker room for her to feel sick. The glimpse of the familiar boots dangling in the air tells Sara more than enough. She is left gasping, not knowing how to react. Despite everything, she takes a step closer– maybe she’s not dead yet–and glances at Reko’s face.
There was no escaping from the cold truth.
Seeing Reko’s body hanging from the ceiling is too much for her: she falls down to her knees, the floor supporting her weight where it wasn’t able to do so for Reko.
It’s all wrong.
She did not want this.
She wanted to get out of there with everyone alive.
That’s what she wanted.
Asking for the confirmation of what she already knows feels numbing– and with every second that passes as Ranmaru thinks how to answer something inside of her withers. Hearing the answer does not come as much of a surprise as it comes as a muted shock.
She has bloodied her hands once again.
Murderer, a voice inside her head accuses.
It was not me, she tries to justify– to whom? who knows. I did not kill Reko.
She is not sure if she even believes that herself. It was her who drove Ranmaru to do this, after all. It is her fault.
It’s Q-taro who manages to pull her back from the murky waters that are starting to flood her mind. He tells that they all believe in her. They’re all allies here, all with their own sins and burdens to carry. He asks her not to distance herself from them.
One look at Gin, the young boy who has come to rely on her, is what seals her resolve.
She will not let the dark thoughts festering inside of her win. She will not become the person Midori says she is. For Reko’s sake, she swears on this.
It’s with this newly found resolution that Sara goes after the others, off to find Midori.