The bitter chill seeps in as you move on, solid ice crunching underneath your steps. Has it always been this cold, in Snowdin? Have your hands always been this numb, and heavy?

Have you always felt this empty?

You remember how this place used to be. Hard coals gleaming with firelight, lanterns lighting your way. Strangers who had lived and laughed and loved in this desolate wasteland.

You had a mother who had loved you too.

Curiosity is a thing that starves you for answers, scoops up your insides and leaves you raw. And it still wants more.

You feel your sins crawling up your back.

There was a friend, a thousand years ago, who must have knew. Who tried and failed and then he just never tried again. Stubbornness is a stone that hides in your throat and refuses to leave. But it was all you had. All you have, even now.

You should have listened to that friend. You should have listened and learned and-well. You should have done a lot of things.

(In a judgment hall, he finds you guilty.)

--

Chara's grin is sharp enough to cut you wide open. Instead, she chooses to sit down with you. Chara crosses her legs, nudging your shoulder in a friendly way. You do nothing. When she finally realises that you actually are ignoring her, Chara just starts pouting in mock disapproval.

"oh, i don't know why you're moping." She nudges you again, this time leaning even further into your personal space. "do I really need to remind you now? you wanted this, little one. you-" she pokes you in the shoulder- "wanted it so bad-" Chara pokes you again, harder - "-you killed everyone who was in your way to getting there."

For a moment, she pauses. Then Chara smiles again, sugar sweet. "don't pretend to have a conscience now," she drawls, a smirk playing on her lips. "that's my job."

Chara catches your reaction before you can hide it. Her laughter dissolves into the sound of rain, pattering against the ground. Your jumper is going to get soaked, soon.

You make no effort to get up.

--

Your determination can't fix this. Nothing can fix this. Nobody is coming for you, nobody is coming, nobody came. You lose track of the resets, wounds healing and bleeding and healing and bleeding. There is blood on your hands. There is nothing left but the dead you killed and never buried.

--

"...bad time."

--

...Who had said that? You can't remember.

You don't care. You want a friend, but Chara is gone. Was she your friend? Maybe she was. There is blood on your hands. Bleeding and healing and bleeding and-

[-Nobody came.-]