send help im in undertale hell this is the longest story i've ever written

anyway this'll probably just be a one-shot bc im not sure how to continue and stuff. if you liked it, please do leave a fav or review! i may continue with enough support.

Frisk. Their name is Frisk.

They don't know why they lied and said they were Chara. Perhaps it was to hide their identity. Perhaps it was because they were scared. All they knew was that the feeling in their gut was to say their name was Chara. Didn't know where the name even came from. It just popped into their head. They didn't know why it was so easy to respond to, like an old nickname. They still had a certain fondness for it.

Peaceful. They are peaceful.

They don't know why ever since they landed in the Underground, they've thought about killing everyone they saw. The thoughts, like the name, just sort of came into existence from nowhere. But Frisk didn't want to hurt anyone, so they didn't. Sometimes they looked at themselves and were confused. There was no blood on their hands. Why not? Should there be?

Fearless. They are fearless.

They didn't know why they kept having nightmares of timelines unmade. Of killing Papyrus, Undyne, Toriel. They would never do that. And why does the thought scare them so much? It's not like they'd ever do it. They love their friends. Besides, Frisk had died multiple times. Why are they so scared of a couple nightmares? Surely dying was much scarier, and they had dealt with that.

The worst dreams, the ones that shocked Frisk awake in a cold sweat, tears streaming down their face, were the ones with Sans in them. He would blame Frisk for their friends' deaths. His left eye would gleam with a shining, sickly blue. And then he would kill Frisk. Over and over, until finally they woke up feeling the sting of magic across their soul. Invisible bruises from bones smacking them in the chest.

Those were truly the worst kind of nightmare.

Frisk thought that once they left the Underground, the thoughts would go away. They hoped so, at least. And for a while, it worked. They felt no animosity towards anyone, and the violent thoughts were gone too. Even the dreams faded, coming only once every few were milder, and Sans wasn't in any of them.

For two weeks, Frisk was safe.

After two weeks, however, school started.

Toriel would've absolutely loved to homeschool Frisk, but being the friendliest and most approachable monster had its downsides. For one, she had to do paperwork- a lot of it. She also had to attend day meetings and work with the other monsters to prove themselves as unthreatening and friendly as possible. Frisk had offered to stay, skip school and help her. They were the ambassador, after all.

"No, no. I will manage. You children need education. When everything has settled down, I will teach you." She had replied, searching the isles of a grocery store for as many school supplies as they needed.

Then, the first day of school arrived. The whole (non related) family walked with Frisk to school, Toriel holding Frisk's hand. Sans lagged behind a little, and Undyne and Alphys stood awkwardly next to each other. Papyrus was leading the way, chest puffed out and with his usual swagger.

They reached the schoolyard. Frisk peered through the chainlink fence nervously. They had to be well known- they were on TV practically every day since the monsters arrived. Somebody had to know them. Hell, aside from the youngest kids, everyone would.

Frisk, not wanting to attract too much attention (though there is little you can do to not attract attention when you're next to an 8 foot tall goat), exchanged a silent goodbye with his friends before stepping away towards the school, hoping they could fade into obscurity and avoid any conflict.

Unfortunately, kids wasted no time with picking on Frisk. Or, rather, just one kid.

Most of the students were not watching the news and couldn't recognize Frisk on sight, or at all. They had a generic enough face that most just thought they looked rather familiar, and for now they had managed to avoid roll call. Going in half an hour early had its perks.

Except that one kid. That one kid that was actually interested in the news surrounding monsters. Unfortunately, his parents' opinions of monsters were not so positive. And when you're ten, you get most of your opinions from your parents. Thus, the kid that hated monsters the most was the one that actually knew who monsters were affiliated with.

He first noticed who Frisk was in the 'get to know your classmates' circle that every class did every year. Frisk, being the shy kid they were, had quietly asked the teacher to leave them out of it. The teacher, like any teacher would, refused, but allowed Frisk to only share one fact about themself instead of two. And they could go first, so they could just get done with this as quick as possible.

Frisk gently lowered their head, avoiding all eye contact. "I'm Frisk. I, uh, like to make spaghetti with my friends." Their voice was just below a mumble.

They didn't see the boy next to them staring suspiciously.

"I'm Chris, I went to California this summer and I don't like monsters." They stared directly at Frisk as they said the last part.

Firsk felt their skin prickle. This kid knew them, and didn't like them. They didn't want anyone to know who they were. They just wanted to be alone, or with their didn't want to be the center of attention. If Chris told anyone...

You know how to stop him.

No. No. The thoughts... they weren't Frisk's. It was a fluke, surely. The thoughts were gone. They weren't coming back, right? That wasn't even violent. It wasn't like it was in the Underground. It was a fluke.

Frisk avoided Chris as well as they could, considering they were in the same class.. By lunch, nobody had talked to them, and they almost felt safe. Maybe he didn't know who Frisk was? Maybe he wouldn't try to confront Frisk, or tell someone the truth.

Frisk walked down through the hall, crying a tray with cafeteria food on it. They didn't want to talk to anyone, so they headed for the now-empty classroom they had spent the morning in. They were sure it was against the rules, but at the moment they couldn't care less. They needed alone time.

They were halfway into the soggy school pizza when Chris showed up. He stood in the doorway for a moment, then took a cautious step forward.

"You're Frisk Dreemurr, right?"

Frisk stopped and looked up at the boy in the room. Slowly, they nodded, cautious. This was not going to go well, for one of them at least.

"My dad said that you brought the monsters here. They're going to hurt us." Chris stepped slowly towards Frisk. "Why?

"They won't hurt you." Frisk looked up, trying to appear confident.

"How do you know? How do we know you aren't a monster too?" When Frisk stayed silent, Chris became more frustrated. "I saw you earlier! Those weirdos were walking you here!

"My mom," Frisk whispered, "And my friends."

"Your mom can't be a goat! A big, ugly, dangerous goat!" Chris cried, just quiet enough that the class next door couldn't hear.

Don't let him do this to you. He's lying about your mom. You need to make him pay for his lies.

Frisk froze when the thought came, feeling a need to protect themself. They felt a sinking in their gut. The thoughts were back. That meant the nightmares were soon to follow- assuming that they could ignore the constant need for violence. Their hand reached into the desk next to them and grabbed a pair of scissors. They seemed especially comforting, for some reason.

Though a knife would be better.

"Say something!" Chris said, trying to say calm, despite a shaky voice. He was getting really into it. He was right in front of Frisk. "You are a monster."

Chris then swung his hand openly at Frisk, surprising them.

They were no stranger to dodging, even when unexpected, however, and ducked quickly.

They felt the battle GUI pop up, despite the fact that they were no longer in the Underground. Perhaps it was a lasting effect? Whatever. No time for questioning now. Frisk quickly placed their soul over the act option, and chose to TALK to Chris. Perhaps if they did that then he would calm down.

But Christ did not. He swung again at Frisk, missing again when Frisk jumped up onto a desk. His eyes widened, looking at the child now towering above him. Did he just jump 3 feet straight up?

Frisk chose to TALK again. Still no response, and they again swiftly dodged the incoming fist. Calmly, they decided to try MERCY this time. Maybe that'd get through to him.

You know it won't.

They couldn't move from the FIGHT choice.

Hurt them.

You have the scissors.

Frisk gulped. They couldn't do this. They couldn't hurt this child. Why couldn't they ACT? What was stopping them? This had never happened before. Why now?

Do it. Quick.

But Frisk refused. No. They wouldn't do this. They wouldn't hurt this child. They could seriously hurt them. That's the point. The scissors feel almost heavy in Frisk's pocket.

Then, Chris hit Frisk square in the stomach.

Pain wracked Frisk's bones as they were pushed backwards, off the desk and onto the floor. They hit their head on the next desk over on their way down., and it also awkwardly hit their back. The physical pain broke them out of the GUI, and they felt they couldn't breathe. Their ribs felt wrong, and hurt in the back. They felt blood seep out of a cut on the back of their head. Everything was hurting.

At the same time, they felt almost grateful. They were no longer stuck on the FIGHT option, and they could probably recover before the bell rang, assuming that healing items still worked the same outside of the Underground.

Of course, then the bell had to ring. Meaning that Chris would still be freaking out and Frisk would still be injured when the class came in.

By the time the teacher had gotten in, Chris was crying on the floor and Frisk still hadn't managed to get any of their healing items. The teacher, understandably concerned, called 911 and sent Chris to the office immediately.

The teacher ignored Frisk's desperate cries for their backpack, which had several bars of NIce Cream. That's fix them right up, but no, apparently humans had to choose the hard way to do things. Frisk remembered why they liked monsters more. A monster would have common sense to just use healing items.

By the time the ambulance had arrived, the school had called every single contact that was available for Frisk. What they didn't realize was that because they all had monster phones, they all could only be called using other monster phones. It seemed counterintuitive, Frisk thought while waiting for the ambulance, but that was just how it worked.

Frisk, once loaded onto the emergency vehicle, was finally given their backpack, though it was set next to them on the floor rather than the stretcher. "I can call my mom." Frisk stated breathily, before the EMT could ask any questions.

"Didn't the school do that?" The EMT asked, checking Frisk's pulse.

"They can't. But I can. Please, give me my phone. It's in my backpack."

They then handed the kid the phone.

Four hours, three phone calls, and one very worried goat later, Toriel finally managed to convince the ER staff that just giving frisk the Nice Cream would help a lot. That was after finally managing to convince them that yes, she was Frisk's mom.

That led to the staff being horribly confused when the injuries healed near perfectly after two servings of the frozen treat, and declaring it a medical miracle. They then asked for a sample so they could determine what, exactly, about the Nice Cream could heal so well (later tests found that it was just ice cream, nothing special about it).

When they arrived home, everyone was waiting.

"hey kiddo." Sans said, looking the same as always. "heard someone came and hurt you at school today." Somewhere inside his voice there was a hint of frustration, but it was well disguised. His usual smile was still on his face.

Frisk looked at the ground. A feeling of discomfort washed over them, leaving them feeling unsafe and almost exposed. The annoyance and fear of the afternoon was surely getting to them. They were safe here, nothing to worry about.

"Do you want me to beat that punk up?!" Undyne flung a fist up, an invisible fire burning in her eyes. "I'd do it!"

"Undyne, no. You can't, um, beat up human children. I think it might, uh, be bad for our cause of, uh, trying to get humans not to hate us." Alphys seemed rattled more than usual, but continued in her attempt to calm Undyne down.

"PERHAPS, THEN, WE COULD KIDNAP THEM TO TEACH THEM THEIR LESSON! AND USE PUZZLES TO TEACH IT!" Papyrus shouted towards Frisk.

"Still not a good plan." Alphys muttered.

"I'm alright. Thank you." Frisk sighed "I'm just tired." Frisk pulled their backpack onto their shoulders and trotted up to their room. They set down their backpack, lid down on their bed, and hoped nobody would come up to talk to them. That was unlikely, considering that Frisk was the largest source of concern for most of them, at least at the moment.

They reached into their backpack, looking for something to fiddle with. A pencil, a notebook, anything. The backpack was still mostly empty, except…

The scissors. They had forgotten about the scissors. The EMT had taken them from Frisk in the ambulance. She must've thought it was Frisk's, because she set it in their backpack. But it wasn't, and Frisk didn't want them. But still, despite the dread that had settled in their chest, they grabbed them and placed them in their pocket. Good enough for now.

Frisk frowned, and shoved their head into the pillow. Sleeping seemed the best option for now, despite their concern about nightmares. They needed to do something besides mope, and they didn't want to talk to their friends at the moment. Too much work, they told themself, as if trying to convince someone. It wasn't because they were scared of themself.

When they awoke, they weren't really awake. The nightmares had returned. Yet they seemed less scary, somehow. Almost… fun. They still felt like they were inside their dream, and they groggily stood, glancing at the clock. Past midnight. The scissors fell onto the bed, and they grabbed them before moving again.

Go to the kitchen.

Frisk felt their body move without permission, placing the scissors in their pocket for probably the third time that day. They slinked silently downstairs, avoiding the rooms which undoubtedly held monsters. When they had arrived at the kitchen, they moved to the knife block. It was almost empty, but not quite.

They pulled out the small paring knife. It was small, but sharp. It'll do. They felt comfort flowing from the knife in their hands. They weren't sure what they'd use it for…

A loud noise came from their right, the doorway. Their head moved to see Sans there, one eye slightly glowing. It wouldn't be noticeable were they not in a dark room. Best frisk could tell, he had almost fallen over, slamming his hand on the counter when he steadied himself. "hey, kid, why do you have that?"

Frisk wanted to respond, they really did. They wanted to tell Sans that they were not okay, and they needed the knife taken away. But they couldn't. They couldn't open their mouth or drop the knife or do anything. They weren't in control of themself.

"kid. frisk. are you okay?" Sans was quite, and made slow movements, like Frisk was a wild animal that would attack if he startled them.

Frisk felt a small, dark smile forming on their lips. They wanted to tell Sans to leave, to get away and not come back. But they couldn't. Their legs jumped towards the skeleton, the knife raised and aimed straight for his skull.

Sans jumped out of the way, his eye now glowing bright, almost fully lighting up the room. He raised an arm. "you aren't frisk."

Frisk breathed an internal sigh of relief. He knew! He knew that Frisk would never hurt him, and that this was clearly not him. At the same time, he felt his smile grow larger. The knife was again raised.

"Chara." Frisk was surprised to hear the words come out in his own voice, while his head gave a curt nod. Why would they let Sans know that it was them? Unless they wanted to be recognized. But there isn't much you can do against the soul of the King's dead son so it didn't really matter either way

If skeletons could pale, Sans would've. Instead, he picked Fr-Chara off the ground with a flip of his hand. He held then in the air with as much magic as he could muster, despite the child's struggling.

For a moment, they stopped and then gave a dark glare at Sans. Then they smiled yet again, a wild look in their eyes.

"Mooommm!" They shouted. "Help!"

Frisk knew what they were doing- if Toriel came down, she would make Sans drop them. Then Chara would come up with some story, about how Sans attacked them, how it's all his fault. How they are innocent, truly the victim

Or worse, Chara would wait until Sans was forced to put him down, and then… then…

Well, they still had the knife. Frisk decided to leave it at that.

They heard the soft but quick thumps of Toriel sprinting down the stairs. Her head appeared in the doorway, followed by the rest of her. Her expression was that of concern, which turned to shock when she saw the scene in the kitchen.

"Sans! What are you doing to my child?!" She balled her fists tightly. "Put them down! You are hurting them!"

Sans' magic wavered but ultimately held steady. "toriel. you don't understand. this- this isn't your child." A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. The effort was tiring him, and the kid was really struggling. "they'll hu-"

Chara took their opportunity while Sans was talking. They broke free of the magical energy surrounding them, and dove toward Toriel, knife hidden behind in the fold of their sweater. Toriel held her arms open, bending down a little to greet her adopted child. Sans raised his hands, trying to stop Chara with whatever energy he had left.

But it wasn't enough.

Chara pulled out the knife only feet from Toriel. She didn't have time to move, or speak. Her eyes widened. The knife glinted as they ran at her. She waited, hoping this injury wouldn't be enough to kill her. She didn't understand. Frisk loved her, didn't they? Why were they trying to hurt her? They didn't attack her even when she was attacking them. Tears welled in her eyes, but there wasn't even enough time to actually cry. Sans tried to warn her.

The knife wasn't even an inch from her chest when it stopped dead, frozen in their small, childish hands.

Frisk looked at the knife in their hand, determined to not hurt Toriel. Determined to not let Chara win. They loosened their grip on the knife, still fighting Chara for control. Their hands shook, and they too felt tears form in their eyes.

Toriel pushed Frisk off, fear in her eyes. She stepped back quickly. "Frisk… why?"

Sans looked at the kid, and saw only a glance of their face. It was contorted into a grotesque expression, one of pain and sorrow somehow topped with a cruel smile. He stared as a tear dripped down Frisk's cheek. "frisk? you back, kid?"

That seemed to tip the scales in Frisk's favor. The knife clattered on to the floor the smile faded. Their hands rose up to their face, and they sobbed. They collapsed into a fetal position, crying and shaking. Frisk was in control.

Toriel cautiously stepped forward, kicking the knife across the room. She leaned over Frisk, hovering her hand above Frisk's back before gently placing it between their shoulder blades. She looked up at Sans, hoping he could explain, but he was busy grabbing the knife.

Frisk felt Toriel's hand on their back and began breathing shallow breaths. They hadn't hurt her, but why was she comforting them? They had just tried to kill her. Even if it wasn't exactly them, they felt guilt. It was their hands that held the knife and their legs that had ran at her. She didn't know it wasn't them.

Frisk pulled themself together as much as possible, wiping tears from their face and fighting to hold more back. They sat up. "I-I'm sorry mom. It wasn't me. I wouldn't hurt you."

Toriel sighed, almost relieved. "It is okay, my child. I believe you."

Why should she, Frisk wondered, she has no proof. It could've been Frisk.

Sans sat on the floor next to them. "why don't you explain what's going on? to toriel, i mean. i've got a decent enough idea."

fyi i just went in and did some edits. i have a tendency to be rather scatter-brained so like i write one thing and move on without finishing the thought.