• • •
Frisk's knees quivered beneath her. They were on the verge on giving out, but she never collapsed. The pain only increased, aching and reducing her wobbling legs to numb pillars of flesh.
All of them were here. Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore, and everyone in the Underground stood before her. They circled her, still, with eyes that tore into Frisk's conscience.
Then they moved. They moved and they fell apart.
A crack instantly spiraled down Sans' chest, splitting him open. Papyrus across his neck, and Undyne slowly liquefied and oozed into nothing.
Frisk could only watch in agony and heart-wrenching guilt. "Stop!" She'd wail, but on they pressed, gradually destroying themselves. Their movements were zombie-like, slow, torturous, and a trail of dust followed their statue-like bodies.
The world of blackness Frisk found herself in flashed crimson.
She had done this, she'd caused their suffering, their ceaseless misery.
Frisk could hardly breathe once they reached her, the sudden, blinding scarlet light revealing disheveled faces with lifeless eyes. She wanted to reach out to them, to shed tears for them, to replace them, but she remained stationary, as if there was no remorse, as if she had no desire to aid them.
Blood began leaking from the clefts in their bodies, seeping leisurely, giving Frisk all the time she needed to rush over, to patch them up, to fix her mistakes, but her feet were glued to the ground, any actions were impossible. There was nothing she could do, this was all her fault.
Sans hit the ground.
It was a sickening thump that made Frisk's skin crawl. He'd fallen face first, mere inches from her feet. She was given no time for solace, because Papyrus gave away soon after.
They fell in dusty heaps, unnatural blood pooling at her heels. She's stuck as the bodies pile up, and forced to watch them rise to her throat. They soon covered her entirely, suffocating her and completely ridding her sight. Their touch seared her skin, and if anyone was lingering in the darkness, they'd hear her cries.
• • •
Frisk's body flung to life as she awoke, coated in a sheen of sweat. Her ears were ringing with the sound of her rapid heartbeat that played alongside her jagged breaths.
She kept her eyes glued to her comforter, afraid to look up and see the horror all over again. However, that wasn't much help. The nightmare held onto her mind. It crept throughout her body and landed in the pit of her stomach. She felt it building up, forming into nausea that began ascending her throat.
Frisk leapt from her bed and sprinted to the bathroom, making it just in time before her stomach contracted violently. Tears spilled from her eyes along with the contents of her stomach, successfully landing in the toilet bowl.
She sank to her knees and continued to weep, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to console herself.
Frisk couldn't get anything out of her mind. Everything was loud, amplified. Her sobs echoed, her breaths thunderous. The room was spinning, closing in, and all she could imagine was Sans hitting the ground, Papyrus' head sliced clean from his body. Her hands dug furiously into her scalp.
Make it stop
Make it stop
Make it stop—
A scream rang out.
• • •
Frisk rinsed out her mouth, the common sound of running water a soother. She cupped her hands under the stream and submerged her face in the cold.
Her gaze inevitably met the mirror. She looked terrible, hair bedraggled and the collar of her shirt soiled with sweat. Her golden eyes hardly glimmered as they used to. They were dull and glossy, void of emotion.
It was only when Frisk noticed a hint of red swimming in her irises that she managed to emote. The feeling of dread familiar.
- - -
Everyone led her to believe that if she stayed determined, everything would be okay. Life wouldn't always be easy, but she could make it. Frisk could overcome any obstacle, just as she did in the Underground.
She was wrong, they were wrong. And they never bothered to tell her that her life would become a living Hell.
Chara plagued Frisk like a curse. That demon resided in the back of her mind for what felt like eons, whispering, insulting, abusing.
Frisk was a ticking time bomb, one that would explode then reset itself. Nothing was ever at ease, she was always stricken with fear and paranoia. Dust bunnies building up beneath the ottoman would briefly turn her blood to ice. Her heart would erupt in panic, and her mind would flash with unsavory memories from her time in the Underground.
The glint of knives and their pull made her sick. Frisk had a dreadful draw to them, their gleam so enticing in the worst of ways. She wanted to throw them all out, but the thought of even touching one of those blades immediately dismissed the notion.
Chara's pure essence made Frisk bitter. Somedays, she just couldn't bare it. In the seclusion of her home, like light rain before a storm, she breaks down. There's a slight drizzle before dark clouds cover and blur her world. They grow darker, rain pouring down in an endless stream, but thunder would never hit. She'd cry in racking sobs, but they're silent. They have to be.
No one could know of her inner torment. She found it easy to smile around others, to act as if all her problems were fantasy. They couldn't help her, nobody could, not even herself. She'd suffer through it unwillingly, wondering if all this pain was really worth it.
At times she'd come to the conclusion that it wasn't, but she would never go through with it.
- - -
Sans had taken Frisk out to their neighborhood's annual carnival, but she wasn't too interested in any of the prizes or rides. Frisk didn't even seem to have any desire for cotton candy, which he knew she loved.
They'd gone to sit on a bench after Frisk didn't vocalize, but greatly conveyed her indifference. She stared distantly into the gradient orange and violet sky, the life gone from her eyes. Frisk was voiceless, leaning into Sans' shoulder with their fingers intertwined. Sans had easily noticed that something was off. Frisk seemed neglectful. Her digits were limp, and barely closed around his.
"Y'know, Frisk. I'm glad I've cotton to know you, I know I candy a little much at times," Sans attempted, internally shaking his head at how awful that was. Even he knew he could've done better. Despite that, Frisk smiled sweetly, but her eyes remained desolate. Sans drew circles on her palm, staring at the ground. His eyelids shut momentarily, before looking back to Frisk.
"You had them again, didn't you," his voice had lowered an octave, tension sneaking its way into the air.
A few months after migrating to the surface, she'd told him. She told him of her nightmares, of her burden. Most of the time it was hard to notice her shift in behavior. Sans had to look out for the tired eyes, the distant stares, and the long silences.
Frisk's grip on his hand was suddenly firm. To his own surprise, she nodded, tears dribbling down her cheeks. Sans felt a twinge of sorrow at his lover's distress. He pulled her into his embrace, Frisk whimpering into his shirt.
She then heard an unmissable voice groan in disgust. Her blood ran cold. She'd never get used to it.
"I can't believe you're still doing this," Chara scorned. Frisk kept her head buried in Sans' warmth, she didn't want to see her, she didn't want to see her demon.
"Taking shelter in your most prominent killer, I'm astounded by your stupidity," Frisk could feel herself trembling, now gripping the edges of Sans' hoodie.
"I'm even more speechless by the fact that you think he even cares about you. Are you aware that this is the same trash bag who shot bones through your ignorant little head?"
"Please stop," Frisk whispered, her voice feeble.
"The same dunce who laughed as your lifeless body hit the floor," Chara continued, her words overflowing with hate.
"Enough."
"The same skeleton, who had no problem taking your life over and over and over again," Frisk was full-on shaking at this point, her hands trying desperately to seal her ears, but she heard Chara loud and clear.
"Frisk?!" She stopped. Chara was gone, but her aura lingered, buzzing in the back of Frisk's head. It drove her insane.
"Sorry, Sans. I'm fine." Frisk rose from Sans' arms, frowning at the sight of his now tear-stained shirt. A bony hand reached over to occupy her cheek. Frisk pressed into his touch, meeting Sans' small pupils.
"I can't watch this anymore," Sans stated. Frisk tensed, knowing exactly where this was going.
"Sans I-"
"No, Frisk! I won't watch you endure any longer. It's killing you," Sans said harshly, but his voice cracked. Frisk didn't respond, resting her hand atop his, accepting defeat.
"I'm going to contact Alphys, she can help us sort this out." Sans informed softly, taking out his phone. Frisk sucked in a breath.
"You must be out of your mind," Chara claimed jadedly, fear masked by her words.
- - -
"Is this really what you want?" Chara asked, her voice now a whisper. She'd honestly thought this was all a ruse, there was no way Frisk would do this. If this blows, they're both done. When she realized Frisk didn't mind the possibility of her own life ending, the panic in her stomach lurched.
Frisk was keen on keeping her eyes shut, supposedly at peace. Chara stared at her resting face through the glass, her frown deepening into a glare.
"Don't ignore me," she growled, her hands made into trembling fists.
Sans passed by her suddenly, stopping in front of the pod. He reached out, trailing his hand across the glass and unknowingly brushing against Chara. She flinched, quick to take a few steps back.
"I'll be waiting for ya, Frisk," he muttered, uncertainty a devil on his shoulder. Eventually, he straightened and headed towards Alphys. Chara watched him go despairingly, calling out to him would be pointless.
"Start it up," Sans said quietly. As the machine whirred to life, everything for Chara seemed to slow. In a swift motion, she was back to facing Frisk.
"You can still stop this," She exhaled. Frisk remained closed off, blocking everything out. Chara bared her teeth, nails digging into her palms as her crimson eyes began to burn.
"I SAID DON'T IGNORE ME!" She screamed, the contraption now making unique beeping sounds. Chara sent a fist flying towards Frisk, but her hand phased right through the capsule. She stumbled midair, spinning towards a wall that was growing darker. She gasped, stopping her forced flight and whirling around to locate Frisk. The lab was fading into blackness, the purr of the machine a plague. She zipped towards it, stretching out her arm to grab a hold of Frisk's SOUL. As its invigorating essence grazed her fingertips, Chara was brutally pulled backward. She looked down to see dark ropes spiraling about her body, winding around her stomach whilst binding her ankles and wrists. Still she pressed, inching pitifully towards her lifeline.
She didn't want to go, to be set free. There was no point in her living alongside them, on the surface of all places. Freedom didn't exist here. The world is full of selfish and cruel people, Chara would much prefer death than to dwell here with Frisk and her impotent friends.
That's when she realized there was no need to even consider that. Without Frisk, she has no SOUL, nothing to keep her bound to the world. If they were to be separated, she would likely disappear. Chara ended her struggle, and was instantly sent flying towards the inky void, Frisk's ambience gradually fading from her perception.
• • •
A bright light was shone onto Chara's face, effectively passing through her eyelids and alerting her senses. She sprung to sentience, sitting up rapidly as her eyes flew open, panting deeply.
"You're awake!" Her head snapped in the direction of the voice, only to look away and shut her eyes as that same light pierced her red orbs.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" A small flashlight, that was gripped between a scaly, yellow hand, was shut off.
"We were.. well... I-I was afraid you wouldn't..." Chara drowned her out.
Her palm was gently gliding against the smooth surface she had been lain upon. She pressed the tips of her fingers into it, hoping, praying she'd pass through, but she didn't. Chara slowly removed her hands from the deduced lab bench, and instead placed them on her legs. She traced her thighs, flinching when she came in contact with the denim of her shorts. The same pair she died in.
Chara made her way up her arms, smoothing down creases in her favorite green and yellow sweater. Her knuckles followed the outline of her chin, and she was startled to find water collecting there.
"Are you okay?" Alphys' voice broke her trance. She jumped, removing her hand and allowing a drop to fall into her lap.
"You're crying," Alphys continued and Chara looked to her again, stiffening. No. She's not crying. She can't cry. She can't cry, feel, or even exist. It's not possible.
Alphys' thumb grazed her cheek, ridding of the tears, without phasing through her.
God, it worked didn't it?
Alphys' skin was warm against hers, tending to the stream that suddenly burst like a dam.
"Chara, what's—?" Chara seized her wrist fiercely, clenching the life out of it. She looked straight into Alphys' quivering irises with incredible malice, imagining how both hands would feel around her neck.
"Alphys is checking on her in here, she hasn't woken up yet," Sans' gritty vocals protruded into the room. Just as the metal doors slid open, Chara dropped Alphys' wrist and turned away.
"Or so I thought." His voice deepened instinctively at seeing her alive and well.
Alive. She certainly didn't feel alive. She felt empty, there was nothing inside her, nothing at all.
"Chara," someone said weakly, but she recognized that small, pitiful voice anywhere. Frisk was approaching her slowly, but without hesitation. Alphys swallowed a retort as she drew nearer.
Chara merely watched her close in. She wondered if Frisk could see the dry tears streaking her cheeks. She hoped she couldn't; she didn't deserve to see her like this, to see what her halfwitted actions had made of her. Chara loathed the calm expression on her face, carefully stalking towards her as if she was a frightened animal.
The second she stood before her, Chara would lunge. She'd grasp her throat and crush her without delay. Sans would likely kill her before she even got the chance, but any pain she could inflict on Frisk would be worth that price, and death was a price she was more than willing to pay.
Frisk was in front of her now, and Chara wasn't even allowed a thought to strike. Frisk had unhesitatingly raised a hand, and cracked it across her face, snapping her head to the side and nearly sending Chara staggering off the table.
• • •
Author's Note
WELCOME! I'm so excited to start this! This story has been in the works for months, and now it's time..
And of course I know Chara isn't necessarily 'evil'/ill-minded, and didn't take full control of Frisk.
I know I'm making her out to be a terrible person, but it makes for good stories so I don't feel bad
+ she's a game character, does it really matter how I portray her? No.
I do believe she isn't the nicest person and is a little confused, but someone special will fix that.
I'm trying to come up with an updating schedule so each chapter isn't a year apart, but we'll see.
Thank you for reading and I will hopefully see you next time!