Author's note: As you may have known, this story was meant to be a one-shot, but on ReadingBoy01's request to hear about Monika's death, I got some inspiration to tell the story from Monika's point of view.

Artistic license warning: The following chapter describes psychosis in a way that may or may not be completely factually accurate.

Monika knows she's headstrong. Her parents have always said she's headstrong.

But there's nothing wrong with that, right?

That's one of the qualities that made her such a valued member of the debate club. Some would even say she was the debate club. She had a really good way of arguing for her cause and making her opponents see reason. Sure, maybe she'd have to step on a few toes on occasion to get her point across, but that's just part of what made her such a good debater.

But the internal politics of the debate club... it felt like an endless dance of debating the debate club itself, other than tackling any serious issues.

So when the opportunity arises for her to start her own club - her very own long-dreamed-of Literature Club - she jumps on it.

Recruiting members is a slower process than she'd like. On the first day of scouting, only one prospective member shows up. That airheaded Kimishima girl - Sayori, was it? Not exactly a shining example of a proper literature enthusiast. Still, Monika knows she has to follow procedure, so she makes Sayori vice president.

The next week, two more girls join up. Monika's not very happy with them either - the first one, Yuri, looks and acts like Wednesday Addams had a growth spurt and a dye job, and the other one, Natsuki, seems to just be looking for a hiding place for her mangas, considering her squirrelly looks around as she enters the room for the first time. But since they need four members to be considered an official club, Monika keeps them on.

A few weeks pass. Monika puts together some activities for the Club, and they all follow through in their own ways. It seems that writing poetry is the activity they all respond the best to. Yuri's prose is unsurprisingly dark, flowery and archaic, with a lot of words that would fly over most people's heads; Monika almost gets a cavity from reading Natsuki's saccharine work... but Sayori is a surprise. The bittersweet tone in Sayori's poetry, the contrast between jubilant happiness and unfathomable sorrow, and the hint of self-deprecation... it makes Monika think there may be something going on beneath the bubbly girl's surface.

It takes a while for the club members to warm up to each other, but eventually, Monika's suspicions are proven correct when Sayori asks to talk to her in private. Clearly fighting down tears, the girl tells Monika about her crippling depression. And it's not that Monika doesn't care about Sayori. She does. The warm, reassuring hug she gives Sayori is genuine. But at the same time... No. Best not to think those thoughts. Monika doesn't understand what Sayori is going through.

Then a few days later, Sayori brings up the possibility of introducing her friend to the club. The friend's name - Anon - sounds somewhat familiar, and Monika realizes that he was in a few of her classes last year. She actually had her eye on him, but he seemed to be a little too shut-in at the time to even think about talking to girls. Monika decides to keep that particular detail to herself.

The next day, Sayori has indeed convinced Anon to come along. And the next few days, it seems like he's a completely different person. Gone is the shy, awkward kid from last year, and in his place is an assertive young man; he playfully teases Sayori, he manages to bond with Natsuki over manga, and he gradually helps Yuri out of her shell. And the poetry he writes - it seems like he's somehow managed to pick up traits in his writing that win over all three of the other club members.

It strikes Monika that he's perfect for her. And she fills up with desire.

He will be hers.

But she has a problem. She can tell Natsuki isn't interested in him romantically, and while Yuri seems to warm up to the idea of a relationship with Anon, she's too shy to try to bring it about any time soon. But Sayori... Sayori's the greatest obstacle. She's been his friend forever, so he sticks mostly with her during club meetings, and Monika has seen enough of his poetry to know that while he appeals to all three of the girls, it seems like Sayori is his main muse.

This is bad. If Monika leaves them to their own devices, this may play out undesirably. But how can she prevent it?

And then she remembers what Sayori told her.

And a plan begins to form.

-oOoOo-

Her phone beeps. It's an e-mail notification.

It's from Sayori.

The message is short. The subject line only reads "Now everyone can be happy." And the only thing in the mail is a link.

These past few days have been gruelling, the ways she's been pushing Sayori's buttons. Part of her knows she shouldn't do this. And to begin with, she did have to persuade herself that it was worth it in the end. But slowly, that euphoric sensation from the debate club took over - the sensation of knowing you're in the right, and that if your opponent doesn't see that, you mercilessly trample him until he does.

That's all this is. To Monika, Sayori isn't even a person right now - she's a pawn in a game, an opponent to be taken out. And it seems that Monika's gambit is about to pay dividends.

Now, Monika clicks the link with a mounting sense of excitement.

The link leads to a video sharing website.

Sayori's standing on a chair. She has a rope tied around her neck, affixed to the ceiling. Her face is a mess of runny make-up and tears, but as she stares into the camera with big, puffy blue eyes, her voice is surprisingly strong.

"Monika... this is what you wanted, isn't it?"

That's all she says before she visibly braces herself and jumps from the chair, kicking it over in the process.

Monika watches with a mixture of fascination and elation. She should be horrified, she knows. But... she's winning, isn't she?

She watches her erstwhile friend claw at her neck, the fear of death evident in her eyes, and hears her desperate gagging as she vainly tries to get air. Stupid girl - doesn't she know she should jump from some more height, to break her neck? She can't even do this properly. Monika smirks to herself as she watches Sayori's struggling get weaker and weaker, as her face goes from red to blue to finally white - and she goes limp.

Monika's smile grows wider.

There's an hour left of footage, and Monika fast forwards to the end, long after she knows there's no more hope for Sayori. In the final minute of footage, there's some movement.

It's Anon.

Even with his back to the camera, Monika can see his blood run cold. He shakily touches Sayori's hand, then checks her neck and wrist for a pulse.

He falls to his knees and gives a wail.

This is perfect. If he shows up to the club like this, Monika will be there to comfort him. She's sure that will plant a seed that will finally grow into love.

She's taken out the competition. It's just her now.

Just Monika.

-oOoOo-

This isn't right. None of this is right.

Monika wants to scream as she's led to the police car, but she keeps quiet. While inwardly seething, she spends the next few days in questioning maintaining a demure appearance, making sure the investigators get nothing out of her.

The trial is a sham. The prosecution has absolutely nothing - only the testimony of a bereaved best friend. Anon's clearly fighting back tears as he recalls Sayori's statements from the day before she hanged herself, and no reasonable jury would accept such testimony. She's deleted the e-mail from Sayori, and every trace of what she did that led up to the events of Monday morning - she should be in the clear.

But as the prosecution explains, they've had access to Sayori's social media - including everything Monika did and the video footage.

At that moment, Monika knows her goose is well and truly cooked, even though the ignoramus the state assigned to her appears to think otherwise.

Worse than the sentence is the completely disgusted look Anon - her Anon - gives her as she's being led out of the chamber.

-oOoOo-

"I did it for us, you know."

She's inwardly jubilant. Her love has come to see her. Sure, he's acting all disgusted now, but she knows that with time and distance, she will be able to get herself back into his good graces.

All she has to do is appeal to his reason. Surely he must see that what she did, she did for them? And that he's every bit as responsible for what Sayori did as Monika is? They will be there for each other, to carry each other's culpability. Nobody can love him like she does - nobody can understand him as she does.

But inexplicably, he doesn't see it. He doesn't see reason.

Instead, he snarls at her with a voice she never thought he would have been capable of producing. "Let me promise you one thing. I never want to see you again. Goodbye, Monika. Forever."

Forever.

He turns his back on her. How dare he turn his back on her? After all she's done for him? She screeches, raging, at him, but he keeps walking.

The door closes behind him, and her world falls apart around her.

-oOoOo-

The next few days are a mess. She sees his face everywhere, she hears his voice everywhere.

The psychiatric facility she's currently at isn't a high-security one, but she's still considered a danger to herself and is being monitored.

Monika watches vigilantly for her chance to escape. She must be with him. She will have him, one way or the other.

The chance eventually comes, late at night, when the facility is understaffed and her assigned guard is on a bathroom break.

Monika slips out of her room and out of the facility. She doesn't care about the CCTV - she knows she will be discovered missing anyway - but makes a point to avoid the sparse staff.

The night air is surprisingly sweet, and for a moment, she doesn't know what to do with her newfound freedom.

Then a voice calls out to her.

"Come to me, my love."

She follows the voice as in a daze. Anon is beckoning to her to follow his voice.

And she will. She will follow his voice to the ends of the earth.

She follows his voice through the deserted city block, down to the railway station. It's completely deserted; there are no late commuters this night.

"Come to me."

Why is his voice coming from the tracks? Doesn't he know how dangerous it is?

"Come to me."

She should fight it, she knows. But... she's tired of fighting. Why can't she just have this?

Why shouldn't she have this?

Without further hesitation, she steps down on the tracks.

I'm coming, my love. The voice seems to come from further down the tunnel.

She rushes out to meet him.

My love...! His voice is surprisingly shrill - almost like a train whistle...!

The realization hits her too late.

A moment after, she feels an instant of unimaginable pain... and then nothing.