Frisk let out a scream as the femur pierced their gut, narrowly missing their spine by mere inches and pinning them to the golden pillar behind them. They hear the gaster blasters ready themselves again, rearing with energy that bounced off the walls. Nearby, they could hear Sans.
"Dirty brother killer," He snarled, left eye flashing a dark sapphire. Frisk tried to move, but the femur had them pinned. They felt their HP draining, down to half.
"You really are in for a bad time," Sans sliced his hand down and a new onslaught of bones flew toward Frisk, each of them glowing with anger. Frisk let out a maniacal laugh and sliced the knife downward, slicing through the femur that pinned them to the wall. They rushed toward Sans, laughing all the while.
"Kill or be killed, kill or be killed, kill or be killed," Frisk chanted, their voice somehow not their own.
Chara.
Sans dodged their attacks, but sweat beaded his shining skull. He sent more gaster blasters toward them, but Chara was in control now. They dodged his blows, swooped under his raised arm and drove the knife upward.
Blood.
Sans coughed, then stumbled backward. Frisk smiled, but then the smile fell as they realised their HP was still draining.
"No, no, no!" They screamed, stumbling into a pillar.
5/20
"No, you're dead, Sans! You can't hurt me!"
But it wasn't Sans who was hurting them. It was a familiar, cold hand that was choking them, screaming at them.
"You're a monster! Your mother and I are cursed with you!"
3/20
"Frisk! Frisk!
"FRISK!"
Frisk jerked awake in their bed, screaming bloody murder. Rough vines were wrapped around their arms and legs as they thrashed and before them was their soul, glowing a dark blue. Sans stood in the doorway, arm outstretched and hand clenching Frisk's soul, stopping them from rolling off the bed and hurting themselves. Flowey sat in his pot beside Frisk's bed, his vines twirling around their limbs and his face in a state of shock.
"Kid!" Sans gasped as Frisk fell limp. Frisk breathed hard and fast as Flowey held them down, beginning to sob.
"S-ans." They whimpered, twitching.
Sans rushed to their side, kneeling and pushing Flowey's vines away.
"Hey, kiddo. It's me, dunkle Sans." He sounded as if he were on the verge of crying. Frisk glanced up, searching for their HP, which normally didn't appear unless they hurt themselves.
1.
Their blood ran cold.
1/20.
They shook and Sans glanced at Flowey. "You can let 'em go."
Flowey grumbled under their breath, but let his vines retract back into his pot. "Stupid idiot." He hissed, glancing at Frisk with an abnormally tender look. Frisk sobbed and Sans glanced worryingly at their HP, which throbbed dangerously. He released his hold on their soul, then scooped them up into his arms. The skeleton was shaking as well, in fear, or in shock, Frisk didn't know.
All they knew was that they'd nearly killed themselves over a stupid dream, one that they should not have even remembered. They sobbed into Sans' shoulder, shaking as the skeleton's bones rattled.
"Kiddo, you're alright. It was just a dream. Just a dream," Sans whispered, glancing over at Flowey. Frisk followed his gaze and saw the flower had dropped his gaze, his leaves rustling. The flower was scared. Frisk snivelled, feeling weak from their low HP.
"Don't move, Frisk." Sans said hoarsely. "I'll get you some Nice Cream, alright? Don't move."
Sans laid them gently on the bed, shaking. One wrong move and what was left of the kid's health would disappear. Their soul was cracked. Whatever messed-up dream they had been having had gone so far it had hurt them. His bones rattled as Frisk curled into a ball, sobbing into their pillow as he rushed downstairs to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Frisk cried, feeling their soul shake. They tried to find DETERMINATION, but just found a horrendous, gut-wrenching feeling. They could feel as if he were choking them again. A soft vine curled around their hand and they snivelled, looking up at Flowey. The flower's face wasn't turned toward them, but a vine had curled around their hand in a comforting manner and Frisk sobbed into it.
"You're getting me wet, idiot." Flowey said, but without much conviction. Frisk let out a reedy laugh. Sans returned seconds later, holding a bowl of Nice Cream in his hand.
"Here, kiddo." He whispered, sitting on the bed and handing Frisk the bowl. Frisk struggled to sit upright, feeling weak as their HP shuddered. Sans could see how they were struggling and took the spoon in his hand, feeding them. Their HP crept up slowly and Frisk could hold the spoon by themselves.
They set the bowl aside and signed to Sans, Thank you. I'm ok.
"What happened, kid?" He asked, his left eye flickering briefly. "Did someone come in here? What-"
"They hurt themselves." Flowey muttered.
Sans glanced at the flower as Frisk hung their head in shame. "What?"
"Why do you think I was holdin' 'em down, smiley trashbag?" Flowey growled. He turned and shuffled his flowerpot further away from Frisk, retracting his vine until it hung just over the edge of the pot. "I'm tired; take your conversation somewhere else."
Sans glowered at Flowey, still not trusting the flower. They'd been at odds ever since Sans had tried to toss his pot into a fire. Frisk had stopped him, though. Sans gathered Frisk in his arms, standing and casting a cold look at Flowey.
"Let's go kid," Sans said quietly, shutting Frisk's door behind him as he walked out into the hallway, Frisk still sniffing in his arms. Sans entered his room, kicking aside papers and pillows as he strode to his bed. "I'll stay awake 'till you fall asleep." He winked an eye socket, smiling a large grin. "Wouldn't want you to get bonely."
Frisk gave a weak giggle and Sans was even more concerned. That pun usually had them in stitches. He could hear Flowey shifting his pot in the other room and when Frisk had somehow drifted off to sleep, he carefully slid out of bed and back into Frisk's room.
Flowey was sitting on the windowsill, one curtain pushed aside. Sans stepped over the blankets and other gifts that Frisk had received for being the monster's chosen ambassador and glowered at the flower.
"What. Happened?" He snarled, his eye flickering to life. Blue flames danced on the side of his face and Flowey glanced at him nonchalantly.
"What's wrong, smiley?" He asked, his voice not as mocking as it used to be. "Reality finally setting in?"
"Did you hurt Frisk?"
"Hell no," Flowey snarled, the flower's face turning malignant. "And if you dare accuse me of something like that again, I'll-"
"Try me, weed," Sans growled, reaching forward and grabbing Flowey by his stem. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Flowey brushed off the skeleton's hand, looking out at the moon again. There was a brief pause before he spoke again.
"You know there are some bad people in the world, right?" Flowey mused, his petals quivering. "Well… it looks like Frisk might've been raised by two of 'em."
Sans frowned. "What?"
"Don't act so surprised they tell me more than they tell you," Flowey hissed. "I'm not even supposed to be telling you this." The flower shifted in his pot, gazing out at the moon. Sans leaned an elbow on the sill, eye returning to its normal state.
"Tell me." He said quietly.
Flowey glanced at Sans, then back out at the moon. The flower looked almost… sad. Troubled would be more appropriate for the expression on his face. "Chara was the same. Screaming. Crying." Flowey turned to Sans, meeting his eyes. "There are some bad, bad people in the world, Sans. They hurt people. Badly. Whatever Frisk's parents did to them, they're not even human."
Flowey then shifted. "Now get out, trashbag," He grumbled, throwing Sans an angry look. "You're disturbing me."
Sans blinked once, then slowly retreated, closing the door behind him. He heard Flowey sigh heavily, then the soft snores of his breathing. Papyrus had gone out for the night, leaving the house unnaturally quiet. Everything was still. It wasn't natural and when Sans returned to his room, he was almost frightened to see that Frisk had somehow gotten twisted in the sheets. He carefully untangled them from the prison and held them close. At first, he thought he was doing it to provide comfort, but when they tried to move he realised he was trying to stop them from hurting themselves again.
He pressed his forehead into Frisk's hair, bones rattling as Frisk slept.
"What happened to you, kid?" He whispered.
In an answer, Frisk shuddered.