You were only 7 when it first started. Of course, before then, your family seemed kind. And normal. You were quite a loud child, never afraid to voice your opinions or thoughts. But your family started falling apart, and you didn't understand.
One day, you went to brush your teeth, but found the water wouldn't turn on. And what was usually a warm house turned chilly, which meant you had to bundle up everyday in your favorite sweater. You asked your mommy why, and she didn't answer. You asked again, but her only reply was a harsh glance and an upset sniffle as she stood up from the kitchen table and walked to the cabinet, where she drew out a large bottle of vodka. You watched with your curious brown eyes as she brought the bottle to her lips and took a drink, and left, leaving the door open to the chilly winter air. Startled, you watched her as she climbed into the driver's seat of the car and, with tears streaming down her face, left.
Daddy came home, and he was really mad. You ran up to him, unaware of his anger, and tried to give him a hug. He forcefully pushed you aside, and you slammed to the ground with a thud. He didn't even look down at you.
"Go to your room, Frisk."
"But... why? Where did mommy go? Daddy, why are you mad? What's going on?" You asked, tears threatening to spill.
"Shut UP! Go to your room until I call you." Smelling the foul odor of alcohol on his breath, you scrambled to your room.
That night something really bad happened. Daddy came into your room and grabbed you by your sweater, lifting you up off the ground slightly. He looked into your eyes and at your confused and scared expression and tossed you onto the ground.
"You're the reason Jessica cheated. You're why we live in poverty. You ruined my life! I would have gotten that promotion had I not had to deal with you!" He shouted, towering over your small frame and, in a quick motion, grabbed you by the hair and slamming it on the ground. You didn't remember much of what happened next. Your perfect vision clouded black as your entire body felt agonizing streaks of pain. Salty tears streamed down your already swollen face as you tried to get away, but with each strike, you became less and less in control of staying awake. The last thing you remembered was your father unlatching his belt before you slipped away into unconsciousness.
You woke up feeling really really dirty. You had no clothes on, and from what you could see almost your entire body was covered in bruises in multiple colors, like your skin was a watercolor canvas. The occasional scrape on your skin was coated in crusted blood. You began to cry again, you didn't understand why this had happened. You thought he loved you. Is that what people did when they love someone? You hoped not.
Unaware of what to do next, you looked at the clock. It was almost time for school. Since you had no better idea, you pulled on a new sweater. It really hurt as the fabric crossed against your bruises. Putting on jeans was so much worse. You limped into the bathroom, where you wiped the tears off your face. Grabbing your backpack, you walked outside and waited for the bus.
Most of the time kids at school ignored you, but this time they all stared and whispered to each other on the bus. You ignored them and tried to figure out what had happened the night before. Your thoughts were interrupted by the bus screeching to a halt, and your head slammed into the seat in front of you. You quickly became aware that there was a large, throbbing bruise on your face as it collided with the seat. Tears threatened again as the heated pain stung your left eye, but you refused to cry.
As soon as you walked into the school, you began to feel sick and dizzy. You walked into the school's office, and terrified shrieks escaped the office lady's mouth as she saw you. You never heard what she was going to say to you, though, because you promptly fainted.
After that day, you didn't feel much like talking. The nice policeman took you away to a place that'd be your 'temporary home' for quite a while, he said. And it was. For the next nine years. It wasn't all that bad, you had a couple of friends. You never talked to them, though. You never talked at all. Except to Chara. She was your roommate, and she loved to talk. She'd tell you stories about the people she used to play with, and how they'd always leave her once they grew up. That didn't really make sense to you, because she seemed to be about your age, and you thought that if what she said was true, then maybe she'd be grown up too. But you didn't question her words. She was the only person who could get you to talk, somehow. Even if you didn't want to.
The ladies who worked at your temporary home never met Chara. You didn't talk to them, so you were never able to ask why she didn't get served food at dinner time, or why no one seemed to talk to her. It confused you, why no one seemed to see her, but you never asked.
She went away for a while once your nine years in the orphanage. Right before you met Toriel and Asgore.