Disclaimer: Doki Doki Literature Club! and all of its related characters and concepts belong to Dan Salvato. This is a fanwork that is not intended to monetize in any way. Please support the official release.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Doki Doki Literature Club! ahead. You have been warned.

POST SCRIPTUM

What was I thinking?! he thinks to himself, running as fast as his legs would carry him toward his childhood friend's house. I should have tried a little harder for Sayori. His thoughts drift to her morbid poem - that wasn't like her at all. And those comments Monika made... "You really left her hanging this morning, you know?"

It's probably nothing, but he can't shake the strange sense of dread that fills him.

He tries dialing her phone again as he runs. "Hi! You've reached Sayori's phone! Um, I can't pick up right now, but please leave a message after the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! Ehehe~" the chipper voice at the other end says. Voicemail again.

"Sayori? It's Anon. Look, please call me as soon as you get this, okay? I'm worried about you." He has said around twenty variations of this the past fifteen minutes.

He's two blocks away now. Then one. Then he's outside Sayori's house.

He tries the doorbell. No response. He knows Sayori is a heavy sleeper, but even she shouldn't be sleeping this soundly.

The pit in his stomach intensifies.

He walks down the hallway, then up the stairs, and through the upstairs hallway to her room. He is intimately familiar with this house, having been here more times than he can count, but he has never been so apprehensive.

"Sayori?" he softly calls out. "Wake up, dummy..." Still no response. He briefly debates whether or not coming into her room like this is a breach of privacy, but soon decides that he has no choice.

He gently opens the door.

"Sayo–!"

Of all the things he expected to see, this was not one. The room is deathly quiet, save for the soft creaking of the ceiling beam from which the noose is suspended. His best friend is staring at him through dull, sightless, bloodshot eyes, hanging just a couple of feet above the floor. The toppled chair next to her lends further credence to the scene. His blood runs cold.

Sayori. Sweet, bubbly Sayori, who could brighten up a room just by being there; Sayori, the girl with a heart too good for this sinful Earth; Sayori, his best friend, whom he took for granted without ever seeing how much she was hurting...

His entire body begins violently trembling and his mind is screaming at him that what he sees can't be real. Suppressing the urge to vomit, he touches Sayori's hand and vaguely registers the fact that its limp fingers are covered with a thin crust of dried blood. Her hand is cold. He checks both her wrist and her neck - right below the noose, he realizes and his stomach churns - for a pulse.

There isn't one.

And the world collapses around him.

-oOoOo-

The police are at the house within minutes of his call, and he numbly directs them up to her room. Two officers walk into the room to begin a cursory investigation. A third, a woman with kind eyes, stays with him.

"Did you find her?" she says.

He nods. He feels like he can't trust his voice right now.

"Was she your friend?"

Another nod.

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

He finally manages to choke out his first words since finding Sayori hanging. "What's going to happen now?"

The policewoman puts her hand on his shoulder and explains to him, looking him in the eyes. "The officers in the room are carrying out a cursory investigation. They have to do that, just to rule out any foul play. We'll take her to the medical examiner and carry out an autopsy, and if we still can't find any signs of foul play, we'll release her body. Does her family know?"

He swallows, and shakes his head. "N-No."

Sayori is dead. He hasn't allowed himself to think those words before now, but now it's inevitable. A tear runs down his cheek and his throat feels like he's trying to swallow a football.

The policewoman nods. "We'll get in touch with them, but we need some contact information. Do you have their names and a contact number for them?"

He swallows again, but looks at her with a new determination. "I... I'll tell them. They deserve to know it from me."

He takes his cell phone out of his pocket, finds Sayori's mother in his contacts list, and hits the dial button. Four signals later, the call comes through.

"Anon?" Mrs. Kimishima sounds upbeat as always; Sayori must have inherited (emulated, an unwanted voice in his head corrects) it from her. "What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you?"

"H-hey, Mrs. K. Er, I n-need t-to t-t-tell you something." He is struggling to keep his voice steady.

The voice on the other end seems to pick it up. "What's wrong? You don't sound good."

"It... it... it's about... Sayo..."

"Sayori? Is something wrong with my baby? Please, Anon, you're starting to worry me."

"Sh... she..." He looks pleadingly at the policewoman, the unspoken question clear in his eyes. She nods and holds her hand out for the phone.

"Anon? What's..." is the last thing he hears before handing the phone over.

"Mrs. Kimishima? I'm Officer Yamazaki with the police department." A brief pause, probably while Sayori's mother is asking what's going on. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that your daughter has been found dead."

A moment's silence, and then, even with the phone not near him, he can hear the agonized, terrible, terrible cry of someone whose world has been irreparably torn apart.

-oOoOo-

"Anon, was it?" Officer Yamazaki asks after hanging up. "I understand that this is terribly difficult for you, but I need to ask you some questions now."

He nods, and the next few minutes are a blur. He answers questions about the morning's events and what led him to check up on her. He tells her about Sayori revealing her depression to him, and finally - with a very small voice - Sayori's desperate confession after seeing him with Yuri.

Officer Yamazaki raises her eyebrows when he mentions that Sayori had said that "Monika was right..." and scribbles something down in her notebook.

The front door slams open, and Sayori's mother rushes in. She doesn't even spare him a glance as she makes a beeline to her daughter's room. Within moments, he can hear raised voices from upstairs.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but you can't come..."

"Don't tell me what I can do in my own house!"

"Ma'am, we're sorry, but we need to investigate..."

Another shriek. It sounds like Mrs. Kimishima has seen her daughter's corpse. She comes storming down the stairs, tears streaking her furiously tomato-red face, and grabs him by the collar of his school blazer.

"You!" Her voice is shrill, mad even, and she shakes him with every punctuation. "I KNOW YOU HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH THIS!"

"Mrs. Kimishima!" Officer Yamazaki breaks Mrs. Kimishima's grip on him and stares sternly at her. "I understand that this is difficult, but this boy is clearly traumatized! Control yourself!"

"SHUT UP! DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! HE'S TRAUMATIZED, HUH?! MY DAUGHTER IS DEAD AND IT'S HIS FAULT! I KNOW IT IS!"

She's confirming what he had thought ever since he found Sayori's body. He can't take it anymore and breaks down in tears.

Seeing that, Mrs. Kimishima suddenly looks horrified with herself. "Oh, God! Anon, honey, please forgive me! I didn't mean to blame it on you...!"

"But it was my fault." His voice is bitter. "She confessed her feelings for me, and... I thought, with her depression, and how she kept saying she wanted everything to be like it always had been, that she could use a best friend rather than a boyfriend, and I turned her down..."

He pounds his fist into the couch next to him. "How could I have been so stupid?! She's dead now, and it's all because of me!"

Sayori's mother makes to hug him, but he flinches away from her. She winces, clearly regretting her rash words.

But the damage is done.

-oOoOo-

"Anon...!" He has barely entered the classroom that the Literature Club uses for their activities when two technicolor blurs shoot towards him.

The pink one is faster. "Why... why'd you...?!" A very tearful Natsuki begins punching wherever she can reach.

"This."

Punch.

"Is."

Punch.

"All."

Punch.

"Your."

Punch.

"Fault...!"

He doesn't resist. It's only to be expected that Natsuki would react like this. And she's not wrong, the little voice in his head sniggers at him. He sighs, letting her unwind on him. Eventually, her anger seems to abate, and she merely clutches on to him as she cries.

He looks over her head to Yuri, who is fiddling with her left shirt sleeve. She notices him looking and instantly puts her arms behind her back, a mournful expression on her face. His eyes scan the rest of the room, looking for the fourth club member.

"Where's Monika?" he asks.

"You mean you haven't heard?!" Natsuki snarls through her tears. "Of course you would miss it, like you missed everything going on with Sayori, baka -"

"Natsuki!" Yuri's fierce voice cuts through Natsuki's tirade, and miraculously, the small girl shuts up.

Yuri sighs. "The police came in here and arrested Monika before you made it. Apparently they found evidence of cyberbullying on Sayori's phone and social accounts, and they've implicated Monika as the mastermind."

Wait, what?! He splutters. "Wait... Monika wouldn't...!"

Then he remembers.

Sayori had said "Monika was right" on that day, before he went home to spend the afternoon helping Yuri.

Monika's chipper, almost prophetical, and blood-curdling statement about how he had "left her hanging".

"Fuck." He should probably feel a lot angrier than he is, but he's too emotionally wrecked after the morning's events to really register anything. More than anything, he recognizes his own fault in this.

I stopped waiting for her in the mornings. I'd just keep insulting her when she was self-deprecating. I... was I really all she had in her life? And I let her fend for herself through all of this...?

He's not sure if Yuri sees the growing despair on his face, or if she can tell by the tears trickling down his cheeks now, but she pulls him to her and lets him cry into her shoulder. Natsuki looks like she's internally debating whether or not to join the hug, but she decides against it and sits down with one of her mangas.

He finally stops crying, more because he's too exhausted to continue rather than no longer feeling any need to, and he slowly withdraws from Yuri's hug. She reaches up to dry the remaining tears off his cheek with her left hand. The sleeve on her shirt slips down a little bit, and he sees it. An intricate, gruesome tapestry of old and fresh wounds mixed up. It's too deliberate to be any sort of chance.

He suppresses a gasp. Suddenly, Yuri's comment about how her knife could "cut through skin like paper" makes a disturbing amount of sense.

As the bell rings out, signalling the end of the club session, he vaguely wonders if it's the last. Probably, he thinks. The president goaded the vice president into killing herself, after all. And we're too few to be allowed to continue.

He strengthens his resolve and calls out. "Er, Yuri? Would you mind if I talked to you? Alone?"

This time, he's seen the signs. And he will not fail again.

-oOoOo-

The day of Sayori's funeral is beautiful. The sun is shining down on the assembled guests from a cloudless sky. The lump in his throat only grows as he is reminded of the front Sayori would keep putting up - masking her rainclouds behind a veil of sunshine.

He only half-listens to the minister and his promises of Sayori's place in heaven, dimly wondering what kind of loving god would allow a young woman - not much more than a child, even - to suffer and meet an end like that. Don't blame God for your own failure, the unwelcome voice chides. This is on you. You failed her.

Yuri must have noticed him tense, because she squeezes his hand a little tighter.

The casket begins to lower into Sayori's final resting place, and he's fighting a losing battle against his tears. He clasps on to Yuri's hand as if she's the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he can make out Yuri's other arm draped around Natsuki's shoulders, rubbing her gently as she sobs into Yuri's veil of purple hair.

He sees Sayori's mother throw a single rose onto the casket before she falls to her knees and wails. The poor woman - having lost her husband in a construction accident a few years prior, and now her only child.

Any residual bitterness at her blaming him for her daughter's death (even though it's true, the incessant little voice snickers) melts into nothing as he lets go of Yuri's hand and hugs his late best friend's bereaved mother tightly. She holds on to him and cries, and he finally lets go of his own tears.

-oOoOo-

"...surely, Your Honor, you must see that this was nothing but a teenage prank that went terribly, terribly wrong?" The smarmy, state-appointed bastard who represents Monika looks out into the crowd. "Surely we can't let this accident hang over this poor girl's head for the rest of her life?"

The prosecutor slams his fist into the table. "Mr. Flynn, the defendant has knowingly abused the victim - a girl she knew was mentally ill and struggling with suicidal thoughts. The evidence and testimony given speak for themselves. The prosecution rests."

The judge dismisses the jury for deliberations.

He feels sick to his stomach thinking about the fact that Sayori had actually recorded a video of her suicide and sent it to Monika. He's thankful that they decided not to show it in court - Officer Yamazaki had told him, shuddering, that it was the worst thing she had ever seen. And Monika had seemed completely unperturbed while talking to him that morning, even knowing what she had caused.

The jury is gone for a long time. He wonders if the bast... Monika's attorney... actually got his crap through to some of them. But eventually, they return.

"Madam foreperson, please read out the verdict."

"We, the jury, find the defendant guilty."

The judge nods and reads out the sentence, following the prosecution's recommendations to the letter. A stretch in juvenile detention, as well as mandatory psychiatric evaluations. He thinks to himself that this is an awfully lenient sentence, but he's not going to question it. It's not going to bring Sayori back in any case.

-oOoOo-

"I did it for us, you know", she says softly.

It's been a week, and even though he promised himself not to go to the facility, he finally caved. Because he needs this closure. He needs to know why.

She continues, still with that infuriatingly soft voice. "If only you could have loved me as I loved you, this would have never happened. But no, you had to stick with Sayori through thick and thin. You forced my hand. This is all your fault."

He clenches his fists in silent fury, but they soon relax. It is my fault, after all. I abandoned her when she needed me the most. The voices just won't let up.

"But don't worry, my love." Hers is now a positively feral grin. "In a few years, I will be out, and we can be together then."

He finally finds his voice. "You're really delusional, aren't you?"

"E-excuse me?"

"You goaded Sayori into doing what she did. You're the one who took my best friend from me."

"But darling", she giggles, "what Sayori did, she did entirely on her own accord. And besides, shouldn't you have been there to save her? You're every bit as guilty as I am."

It's true. I am.

No. Stop it.

"And besides, you know nobody could love you like I do. So why not just take it?" Her angelic smile belies the... creature... she has become.

"You're a monster", he snarls. "Because of you, the kindest girl to have ever lived is now dead. You exploited her problems - problems she trusted you with - and she paid the price for it. Let me promise you one thing. I never want to see you again. Goodbye, Monika. Forever."

He turns on his heels and leaves the visiting room, her raging cries following him.

-oOoOo-

He rushes in through the door, his heart beating a million miles an hour.

He finds her standing on her chair, a rope affixed to the ceiling beam. She stares at him through dull, lifeless eyes - as if what she's about to do has already been completed. It's as if she's staring right through him, boring white-hot holes into his soul.

He's desperate to cry out, to run towards her, to do anything - but it's like his feet are frozen to the floor, and no matter how he tries, he cannot scream.

When she opens her mouth, her voice is monotone, droning, and chilling.

"Why didn't you save me, Anon?"

Frozen, feet rooted to the spot, unable to cry out or reach out, he watches as she kicks the chair over, and the rope snaps taut -

...

He awakens with a start and a ragged gasp, his heart beating a million miles an hour. It's half light, but it's much too early to get up.

It was the nightmare again.

It's a much rarer occurrence now, nearly five years after Sayori's death, but sometimes it still happens.

He feels the covers shifting as the body next to his stirs, and the mass of long, purple hair begins lifting from her pillow.

"Anon?" Yuri mumbles sleepily.

"Oh..." He mutters. He hadn't wanted to wake her up. "Yuri. It's... it's nothing. Go back to sleep."

Yuri sits up straighter. "Was it a nightmare?"

He sighs. "Yeah."

Yuri says nothing in response, but snuggles up to him. He sighs and relaxes into her embrace.

He remembers Yuri's careful, almost timid suggestion, a month after the event, that maybe he could benefit from seeing a therapist. He had reluctantly agreed, more to humor her than anything, and it had taken a few tries to find a therapist he had trusted, but once they had found him, they had slowly but surely worked out his extreme guilt. It had taken him a while to realize that what had happened hadn't been his fault. It had taken him longer still to realize that it was okay to move on with his life.

And Yuri had been there beside him every step of the way, supporting him, holding him as he cried and soothing him through the recurring nightmares.

Almost half a year after Sayori's death, he had finally worked up the nerve to ask Yuri out, and she had readily agreed. The relationship had been a slow burn, as he had still been working out his feelings for Sayori, but Yuri had been incredibly patient and understanding all the way.

It had taken him two months since their first date to tell her that he loved her. And he hadn't lied, not really. He did love her. Just... not the way he had loved Sayori.

It had taken him an additional three months - three months of therapy, recovery and a lot of patience from Yuri's side - to mean it.

"I love you, Yuri." The words that had initially been so hard to say now flow out easily. He sees her smile.

"I love you too, Anon." She comes in for a brief kiss before sitting back.

Out of habit, he glances at her arm in the half-light. It's all milky white without any hint of a scab. There are still some faint scars visible if you know where to look, but most of it has faded. He smiles proudly at her, knowing that she hasn't cut herself since he had asked her about it.

It still hurts.

But they are moving on in life.

There's just one thing he has to do first. One that he has put off too long.

-oOoOo-

Sayori Kimishima

b. June 10th, 1999

d. October 14th, 2017

It takes them some time to find the right stone, but eventually, they stand in front of the grave marker that, by rights, shouldn't have been necessary for another sixty or seventy years.

He gazes at the inscriptions on the white marble and sighs, feeling an involuntary tear in his eye, before mustering the courage to speak. "Hey, Sayori."

He takes a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat before continuing, drawing strength from Yuri's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I haven't been here before now. I just... I couldn't face it, I suppose. Again, I'm sorry." He chuckles sadly. "I know you won't hold it against me."

Another brief pause. "So what's happened since you left us? Where do I start? Well, I started working at the clinic now after I graduated. Officer Yamazaki put in a good word for me. She's really become a friend to your mother, you know?"

He chuckles again. You never would've thought I'd go down this path, huh? Anon, therapist. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He smiles. "You know, you're the one who put me on this path. After you... died... I decided that I wanted to dedicate myself to helping young people not want to die. It's a tough job, but I know it's worth it. I only wish it hadn't taken me this much to realize it."

He proudly glances at his girlfriend of four and a half years. "You should see the praise Yuri's been getting for her latest new book. They're calling her the 'Queen of Scream' and whatnot. Apparently she really did find her niche in psychological horror. She's done really well with her demons too, and I'm so proud of her. I know you are too." Yuri rubs his shoulder with her left hand while drying her eyes with her right.

"And Natsuki... I haven't talked to her in a while, not since I started with my thesis. But I hear good things from the bakery she's working at. You know she's moved up to cakes now, right? It's almost magic, what she can do with icing. Though she's still a little fire brand. We'll swing by the bakery later today and pick up some cupcakes.

"And Monika..." A scowl darkens his face as he remembers the way Monika ended - a psychotic episode that culminated in her jumping in front of a train. "...never mind."

Glancing down at the package in his right hand, he lays it down on her grave. It's a bundle of sunflowers. "You remember how I'd always call you a sunflower when we were little? You'd always act all grossed out, but I knew you really liked it." He smiles sadly, and some more tears flow.

"I still... God, I still miss you so much, Sayori. It still hurts like crazy sometimes. I still can't help but feel that I could have done more for you, you know?"

Yuri has grasped his hand and holds it tight. He gives her a thankful look. "But... well, that's all in the past. I have Yuri now, and all the kids I've helped at the clinic... They need me now."

He kneels at the stone and puts his hand on it. "I love you, Sayori. That will never change. You were my dearest friend, and I wouldn't trade my memories with you for anything. You really were too good for this world."

And miraculously, in that moment, the clouded, overcast sky splits open and the sun peeks down at them.

Yuri smiles. "I think she knows."

And he smiles back.

It hurts. It still hurts. He is pretty certain he will bear this pain until the day he dies.

But it has become bearable. He can live with it.

And maybe that's really all he could ask for in the end.

END

A personal plea from the author:

Depression is no joke. It's a real and serious mental illness that can affect anybody.

If you are, or suspect you are, suffering from depression and/or suicidal ideation, I beg you to reach out to someone you can trust, right away. A friend, a family member, or a mental health care professional.

You are not weird for having depression, and you are not weak.

There is help. There is hope.

You are not alone.

You are worth saving.

Thanks for reading.