Yes, I am still alive to all those wondering where I have been for the last 3 years or something. :)
A burning pain thrashed through your skull as a cry woke you as you lie sprawled out on the harsh flower bed.
You look around, your distorted vision darkened as blood splattered all over the place, flashing lights of red black and white coursed through your eyes. A pile of golden flowers glared up at you. They were disappointed. The stained, red flickers on their petals shone from the faint light radiating from the top of the mountain.
Why were you still alive?
You failed again.
"Oh my! My child, are you alright?" It sounded... almost motherly.
Just the tone of that voice made you want to hurl. 'Shut up', you thought to yourself as you failed to hit the ground with your fist in rage.
She gasped, quickly scrambling to gather you in her arms, uncaring about the blood washing over both of you.
"Don't touch me," you growled out, flailing your arms around. "Get off!" You screamed louder, throwing yourself back onto the ground with a louder 'THUD'.
You cradled your arms defensively to hide the bleeding. She took a step closer. You shook violently, glaring at her threateningly.
She took another step and you followed in suit, but ended up stumbling backwards in response. She quickly picked up you again, despite your protests and held you in a tight embrace. You cried and tried to push her away in desperation.
"DON'T FUCKING COME NEAR ME!" You tried headbutting her, kicking, but in the end, you just collapsed into her. Giving into her determination.
You really couldn't stop being a failure, could you?
She felt quite soft, her warm embrace made you freeze up when she pressed against your fresh wounds.
Time seemed to drag on slowly as she carried you on her shoulders exhaustively. Your eyes wandered along ground that trailed and shook with each step. She was… quite tall, you noticed while watching her purple dress trace the concrete floor.
You awoke again, but this time there was no blood, no flowers and no pain – well slightly less pain than usual. You frantically check your pockets. 'It's still there,' you breathe out in relief and let your arms fall down to your sides, throwing back your head onto the soft pillows below you.
The door handle turned, your eyes perk up, but you refused to move.
"Child are you awake?"
…
There was a quiet mumble in return which led to a short smile forming on her face. "I am Toriel," she introduced herself. "Caretaker of the ruins."
She awaited a response whilst closing the door and sitting down on the bed along with you. "And what might your name be, my child?"
You really didn't like that. "Don't call me that. My name…" you stuttered, trying to find the correct response. "My name is Frisk." You couldn't look her in the eyes, but just sank further down under the blankets. She raised what seemed to be some food that Toriel had brought in for you.
"Frisk… that's a wonderful name." You could see her smile falter in the corner of your eyes. "I've made some butterscotch pie. I wasn't sure whether or not you liked cinnamon… or butterscotch."
"I'm not hungry." You had gotten used to not eating. You normally go days without eating and starving yourself was all just a part of the plan.
"Oh." Toriel paused. "That's quite alright, my child. I'll leave it on the table for you if you change your mind." Alas, she placed the seemingly tantalising pie on the table and left the room, silently closing the door behind her.
You took a look around the room, there was a picture of a family. It looked like… Toriel, a taller, larger male monster and what looked to be their child. However, there was a human child next to them. Smiles plastered their faces; they looked happy. They had their arms around each other, the picture taken at the point where they had been giggling.
Was this what it was like to have a family?
It had been a week since Toriel had found you lying in your pool of blood. Every day for a few hours she would stay in the basement. You don't know why, but you didn't really care to ask.
Instead, you followed your routine. Slipping away from the book Toriel had given her to read on monster history, you tip-toe down the hallway, past the basement stairs to the bathroom. Just like every day while you've been here, except maybe the first, you pull the pocket knife out of your slightly-baggy jeans and sit by the door.
It wasn't a cry for help. It wasn't a cry for attention. You didn't want this, but you had to have it. You deserved it and you knew it. Everyone knew it. You just couldn't wait for the day you die.
You dig the knife under your skin, picking at old wounds which had started to heal, slicing shallow cuts on your arms and thighs. They were just high enough into your sleeve for nobody to even notice.
Fuck, it was painful. Three more cuts. You decided that shallow wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for the pain you've caused for Toriel in this past week. Every day she'd look at with a disappointed look on her face – disappointment and pity. But why? Did she know? Shaking your head, you dismiss your thoughts, yet another distraction.
By now, your legs and arms were bleeding quite badly onto the tiles below. You did more cuts than you wanted to do. 'Oh well', you sighed. Without hesitation, you cleaned up the blood. At least it wasn't carpet… but who has a carpet floor in their bathroom, right?
You sat back down against the door, your eyelids slowly closing, falling into a blissful sleep. You forgot to patch up the wounds.
"My child?" It's that same voice again. "Are you okay?" It called out again.
You quickly jumped up, almost falling back down again, grabbing the door handle to stabilise yourself, but almost nearly pulling it open for Toriel to see the blood that once again emerged from the fresh wounds.
"I-I… I'll be out in a minute."