Helena's Diary

[totalbullshit]

[ You will find the door to Room #10 unlocked and half open. It is a mess. There is food from the grocery true everywhere, all the cheapest kind. Many empty packages haven't been trashed yet and instead are scattered over the ground. The hospital gown Helena arrived in is on the floor in an otherwise clean corner. Next to it are nunchucks and a gashapon machine ring with a not attached.

Dio's jacket hangs over the bedpost. The bed itself is the most tidy thing in the room. There is just one thing on it, centrally positioned: a cheap notebook with the handwritten word 'DIARY' on the cover. ]

Comments

Week 1

[totalbullshit]

Thursday
Yesterday there was a "minigame" (so in reality, they let us play fetch for their cruel entertainment) that allowed us to earn some money. Though I refused to participate in such malicious tomfoolery, I have obtained some money due to acts of charity from the other captives. It was enough to buy a cheap notebook and start writing diary again.

I am unhappy that my autonomous decision to boycott the game was disregarded in such a way, but I don't think there is anything inherently wrong about securing the livelihood of a member of your community. Thinking of it this way, I can't be angry. The only one who respected my decision wholeheartedly despite offering me help was Dio. Though he appears to be rather vain, he might be the one who understands me best. His profile claims he likes fashion, but his sense of clothing is, in Neo Yokian terms, absolutely atrocious.

We are told the only way to escape this mall hellscape is to kill one of our ranks. They also offered money as additional compensation. In a way, this place could stand as an allegory to all that Neo Yokio is, all that society is. You trample on others for a perceived route to escape the pressures that the world puts onto you, but in doing so you play by their rules and can never attain true freedom.
Everyone seems friendly so far, but I am concerned that someone will eventually snap. I don't know anything about these people, so trusting in them is difficult.

For now I am fine with waiting it out in my room. Withdrawing is the same everywhere. Writing shall be my relief, my testament to this warped sphere I am forced to inhabit.

Sunday
I want to cross out a lot of the words I have wasted above, but in the name of documenting this experience somewhat reliably, I shall leave it as is, sickened as I am by it.

Wake is dead. Wake who said I was kind for doing what I believe in. I do not think he was correct or mistaken, precisely, but it was a foolishly sweet thing to say. He was a person who seemed to want to see the good in everyone and to whom charity was second nature. It is hard to dislike someone like that. An absence of selfishness is always to be commended.

The one who killed him was Dio.

It was not for money, though that was the incentive presented to us. That puts me a little at ease. There are numerous things about Dio I do not understand. However, I may not have been wrong to say he understands me. At least he thinks he does. Even in his dying breaths he complimented my withdrawal from material goods, he called it purity and voiced concern for me. I do not believe that he would lie like this in the fact of death, when he also revealed personal information alongside it.

Dio was in a cult. I appear to fit the parameters of untaintedness that his belief system has set. There is more I wanted to ask him about it, but I will never get to do so now. He was executed. Trampled to death before my very eyes.

I am sickened. I feel distant from even myself today.

His jacket is hanging over my bedpost. I don't know if I will ever wear it.

Week 2

[totalbullshit]

Monday
I didn't write it down yesterday because there were many other pressing events occupying my mind, but I had a dream. Or rather, I remembered an occurrence from my life in Neo Yokio. Others had issued complaints about their memories before but I had assumed myself to be fine. Everything seemed to add up at a glance. It's not true... If this dream is a memory, then it is urgent and foreboding, calling me to an action that I cannot take now.

A vision in a vision. At home, I once dreamed of Kaz being in great distress. A toblerone, choked by a mass of sentient letters. Crushed. There's nothing I can do about this now. It remains merely unsettling.

They gave us new rooms to placate us. I talked to the Life Coach about it and she confirmed as much. I loathe to say that the bookstore they gave us fulfills its function with me a little. I'm more at ease now that I've spent a while reading. I might spend more of my days there. They will not pressure me into spending this pretend money however. Not on something this frivolous.

I did buy new clothes today. They're incredibly itchy and wrong-feeling, much to my relief. Even though I changed I'm still far from my old self.

When I showered, I met Torri. I know it's unreasonable to feel guilt over Wake's death simply because I had a casual acquaintanceship with his killer, but there is a lingering feeling within me that wants to make Torri feel better. It was a relief that I managed to get this across to her. She is an odd girl who conforms with the rules of her world well, but I cannot bring myself to dislike her for that. Her honesty makes up for it.

Maybe she'll come see me and we can explain more to one another.

Tuesday
Today they gave us another incentive. They threatened to expose our deepest secret to everyone we know in our homeworlds. I don't remember the secret they gave me, but if it's true its reveal could have very uncomfortable consequences for me at home. However, if I have done what they said, I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't ready to die for my convictions if worst comes to worst. That is still how I feel.

I wish I remembered how I did it...

Wednesday
Another opportunity to sell ourselves for money. They gave out a truth serum and offer to pay us for the secrets we learn and tell. I am in shock that there were people willing to participate in this. Selling out your deepest soul like this.

I'm not a dishonest person. If that isn't enough for the world, then it doesn't matter to me.

Thursday
There was another meeting today, but I didn't attend it. There is much and more going through my head, but I can't make heads or tails of any of it. Who is running this game and to what ends? Though we are all from different worlds, this is such an isolated crime.
I wonder about Neo Yokio as well. It appears likely that I did bomb the Bachelor Board. So then, do they assume I skipped town? I don't mind that thought. Let me be the girl who escaped, the woman who made an attack on the city's heart and lived to tell the tale, lived to spread her message.

Whether or not I will survive in reality is secondary to this assumption. May it spark hope in the hearts of other nonconformists.

Saturday
[ The page in this section is crumpled. Helena has obviously not been gentle with the paper. ]

Fools. Imbeciles. Asinine idiots.

Torri is dead and so is the figure skater, Yuuri. Akechi killed them.

Isn't that absurd? From the first night on, we saw it coming. When it was just idle speculation, Dio and I talked about the very risk of a detective-killer. And yet when it happened, I was nothing but powerless to stop it. I was sound asleep that night and only a short walk's way from me he slid her throat.

He did it for himself. After all he said about justice, he still did it entirely for himself. Among us, many await the death penalty, myself included. Yet, we didn't make a move like this. Akechi did it for himself, hypocrite that he is.

Yet they all defended him. They all love him. How can something so despicably vain and egocentric be so forgivable? How is Torri worth so much less to them? How can they step on the graves of those we lost and entice him with gentle words of sweet forgiveness?

I believe in a freedom of individual expression, of course, and I would say it should be removed from the rules of society. But by that I mean rules like summer's fashion trends, all these small prisons we built for ourselves to elevate us over people who live differently. Freedom is only free as long as it doesn't impedes someone else's right to live. Akechi stepped over corpses and corpses and corpses only to live on himself. There's nothing noble about this kind of self-expression.

I can at least commend Shuuichi Kurama and Akira for putting their lives on the line trying to prevent his execution, even if I don't understand it. There was weight behind their senseless love. Weight behind their hurtful forgiveness, behind their willingness to let human lives be unequal. If you die for the wrong thing, at least you died standing for something.

Sunday
Joey called a meeting today. She's the youngest one here and very insistent we should stick together for future plans. She even suggested only walking around in groups of three or more. I have my doubts about how doable this is and I certainly don't trust most of the people here, but if nothing else it might help for comfort of others.

There's also the idea of an all out fight where we all work together. I am starting to feel like this won't help us any as long as we keep being overtly concerned with reducing casualties. More and more, this appears to be a situation calling for a kamikaze attack. If we want to gain any ground, it is imperative we take risks and our captors by surprise.

However, that is not the most noteworthy thing that was discussed on our gathering. Apparently Croix managed to contact the dead in one of the new rooms they gave us. I haven't looked at the rooms yet and I haven't questioned her, since there is bad blood between us, but this is vital to know. I will look at it tomorrow.

Both Croix and Ursula spoke of raising the dead before... Necromancy is nothing a non-demon-supporting person should really meddle with, but it would be the highest blow to our captors if we could only reverse all damage they have done.

Week 3

[totalbullshit]

Monday
During the last trial, Croix called me uncaring and inactive. She knows nothing about me, of course, but I am still finding myself thinking about it. Despite all my best efforts to boycott the events around me, there are corpses piling up. Whether or not I give them my participation, our captors are getting exactly what they want out of us. Am I someone who lets that happen? Is that really me?

Today I used the Ouija board to talk to Dio about this. Naturally, I did not let him know my actual plans. I had hoped against better knowledge that the necromancy idea had validity, but he denied this. In all likelihood, all who are dead will remain gone. So if I act now, if I put my life on the line, I have to be prepared for the worst. An existence between life and oblivion, trapped maybe endlessly. I can't rule out that he's being dramatic, but he didn't seem at all content with that state of existence. I have to ready myself for it.

And so I'm sincerely contemplating martyrdom in his forsaken mall that is cut off from the outside world - from every world. Nobody might ever know of my sacrifice and I will leave no impact on the social structure of the world at large. That wounds me. I never wanted my life to end so meaninglessly. Yet, I simply cannot wait this out any longer. If I overlook the misery and suffering that is willfully inflicted right around me, how can I ever hope to practice what I preach literally anywhere? It starts here. Everything does.

Though I promised Dio explosions, I'm afraid it won't be so grand in reality. I can't prepare too long. I can't lose the element of surprise.

Tuesday
Today is the day. When everyone is distracted by the incentive, I have the most chance to walk around without being forced into groups. It is an advantage that having been hikikomori so far means nobody expects me to be out and about to begin with.

I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect. I suppose this is an experience that is unimaginable until you truly make it. Maybe that is for the best. Maybe that allows me to be more fearless.

The motive just arrived. It's a threat to those we care about. They attached an image of Kaz. I don't know how to feel, but I can't allow myself to be distracted. I firmly believe he can handle himself. That's the most I can afford to think of it now.

I need to leave, I need to set my plan in motion. I hope I can find her without having to call for her. Surprise, surprise, surprise. That is what I need. I know I won't get very far, but every step I can pave ahead might ensure the survival of those left behind. It's not that I care for them as people, but human lives are equal. And if our captors are taken down in the end, then that fulfills my wishes.

This is Helena St. Tessero. This diary is neither a comprehensive record of the events at this mall nor was it meant to be one. It stands as nothing but a testament to my own mind during these events.

If you are reading this, I have only one request: don't let this have been in vain.