"Frisk," his word, soft, beckoned your eyes toward an outstretched hand. Your vision fuzzily wavered. A cyan-colored jacket stood out in the outstanding darkness, along with a small, blue flame next to his faded grin. Your arms were heavy; in your head, all you could do is think how badly you wanted that hand to carry your heavy one. Your legs began to move quietly beneath you, and you looked at them as if they moved without your permission. Something glimmered off the soft blue light that the other was giving.

A knife, suddenly given weight by your subconscious. It made no sense. The knife was so heavy that you thought it might fall out of your small hands. Regardless, your fingertips blazed a white color, as if they were gripping the knife tightly. You couldn't feel it…you couldn't feel anything. It was so dark, and sleep suddenly sounded so sweet, and comfortable. You blinked blearily.

"Frisk."

Your eyes open slightly. His voice, deep, is laced with pain and disdain. The room that the two of you are standing in starts to brighten and you look up, uncomfortable with the new light that introduced itself into your tired eyes. A dragon's head was staring at you with his fearsome jawline exposing a large orb of white light. The cyan jacketed figure has a red scarf, billowing without a sound. He repeated himself over and over until hearing the word "Frisk" caused you emotional grief. The lack of feeling that you had before was replaced too easily with hurt, and fear. You wished for release from this nightmare. You tried to speak to him. 'Just do it.' 'Release me.' 'Get it over with.'

No words exit your closed mouth. It may as well have been for decoration. Another dragon's head appeared with an opened mouth, similar to the other one. His grin was dark, and mostly hidden behind the red scarf that he had recently acquired. His words penetrated your mind and any line of thought you may have had was completely and savagely torn asunder.

"Dirty. Brother. Killer."

You looked down; sensing your knees bend beneath you caused you to gaze upon them in wonder. The knife lifted up to your head, beside your face. You couldn't possibly mean to fight? There was just no way you could. Why would you?

He looked like he was grieving too.

The light began to shine brightly—far brighter than any sun you may have ever put your eyes upon. In an instant you were aloft in the air, avoiding certain death. The toll that the jump took on your body came in the form of a wave of flame over any nerve endings you could have felt. The scream you let out was both one of anger and of pain. Your eyes burned with tears that you couldn't clear from your face. Everything ached horribly. Your body moved with a purpose that you could scarcely follow, let alone understand. His attacks brushed past you and you dodged them with seeming ease. He growled lowly.

"Anytime you reset," he spoke between his attacks, focusing his hand on your frame in the air, "anytime you come back, I'll be here. I won't let you go." The last part of his sentence crawled out of his throat. He was plagued with sadness, it was evident. You wanted to hold him and cuddle in that large, fluffy jacket against him and tell him sweet nothings until the world ended. The thought of being unable to reach that sweet grin—the red scarf, the blue jacket…caused you considerable pain. His hand closed in the air, and you crashed into the ground. You could feel the skin on the side of your head gash open, and weakly, your blood ventured away from your tired, crushed body. With his hand still closed he walked towards you. Every footstep slower than the last. You gasped for air that rejected your lungs. Coughing loudly was all you could muster. The knife glistened in the distance.

"I won't," you stretched your mouth open with great effort. "I won't come back…here." The words poured out painfully. The tears ran down your now bloodied cheeks. "I won't…hurt you. I won't…come back." Saying the words caused a jolt of electricity to surge through your body, from your feet to your new wound on your head. The cyan-jacketed figure knelt on one knee. You could feel the distrust through the floor on which he stood. His dragon heads focused raw energy at you, but did not fire.

"Or we could repeat it a hundred times. A thousand times. However many times you need to understand that I will always be stronger than you." His presence, cold and distant, neared your face. His hand grabbed your short hair from behind and he lifted you from the ground on which you previously lay. "I will always be here to keep you from goin—"

"I won't come back!" You struggle, but get your words out. "I won't hurt you again. I won't hurt you. I won't. I…" your eyes catch his long enough to see that he, through pain, is surprised by your outburst. "I…give up."

Any determination that you may have had fleetingly exits your mind and the world goes dark. He called you. Frisk. Frisk. Frisk.

And for the first time in his life, you were gone. And any trace you may have left, gone.

And the world reset.

Frisk wakes up.

The sun exerts itself into her room—a one bedroom apartment that she got since she left the orphanage a few years back. She lifts herself from the bed she was resting on and stretches her hands into the air, quietly groaning with the reanimation of her sleeping body. A tired hand rubs beneath her eye and she places her forehead into her palm. That dream, in particular, was exhausting. For the last few weeks, she would dream about that cyan jacket and the dragon heads, and the painful whispers. It left her feeling restless constantly. Frisk pulled the sheets from her legs and lifted her feet into two white, fluffy slippers. She quietly glanced at a picture she had of herself standing with a few other children at the orphanage where she was raised. Despite not carrying any memory of her life before she came to live there, she had been accepted lovingly and grew up with warmth and sincerity in her soul. Once you turned 18, they could trust you to live by yourself, and Frisk had turned 18 sooner than she had ever expected.

While she kept to herself for the most part, Frisk had grown into a lovely person to be around. Universally accepting of everyone, she had a small group of friends and worked during the days at a local diner as one of four waitresses. Not particularly girly, her hair grew only until she tired of it being horribly long and difficult to take care of, so it rested at a medium length against her shoulder. Her body had blossomed into that of an adult—soft skin, quiet grey eyes, and a small mouthed smile. She pulled a pair of faded jeans against her legs and pulled a loose fitting sweater over her arms—a nice, beige color. After pulling her hair back into a ponytail and eating something small for breakfast, Frisk threw some old sneakers on and stopped in front of a mirror conveniently placed next to the front door. A hand touched the side of her head wearily. Despite being awake now for an hour or two, she felt as if she could very well pull her hand back and find blood against it. It always stunned her to find that she was incredibly sensitive around that part of her head anyway, before the dreams even started. Her hand came back to her line of sight and came up empty. She was…'empty-handed'. Her own, pitiful attempt to cheer herself up caused her to stifle a small laugh. She smiled into her reflection and clenched her fist.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Everything is fine. Today's just another day at work." And whether she was only trying to convince herself or stating the truth, she grabbed her blue scarf, placed her hand on the door, and opened it into the world.

Frisk jumped outside—the temperature and scenery surprised her. It was surprisingly cold outside, and snow fell softly from the sky. She lived in a small complex beneath Mt. Ebott; a mountain where people were said to never return; and likely due to this fact was the reason that her rent was so cheap. She laughed softly. People never returning? Surely that was a lie created by someone scared of heights or something. The forest surrounding the mountain was like a second home to her. She wasn't on the 'Snow-White' level of befriending animals, but they feared her less than the normal human who roamed through. The ground was thick with a fresh layer of snow and she smiled to herself when she jumped into it with her sneakers, not minding the chill that it gave her. She had always loved the colder weather—snowfall in particular was lovely to watch (and play in, of course!). She pulled her cell-phone out of her pocket and checked the time—7:30am. She wasn't expected at work until 9am…maybe a walk in the forest was the break that her mind needed after a night of cyan colored nightmares.

The young lady walked into the forest below the mountain calmly, enjoying the snow weighing down branches on trees and the creatures who were racing to get back into their warm homes and, for all she knew, hibernate. These woods were so quiet—eerily so to some, but to Frisk it was only peaceful. She continued through the forest, breathing into her warm, blue scarf. Her eyes lifted up to the sky and she tilted her head a bit at finding the sun hiding behind a sad, grey cloud. "Oh, Mr. Sun," she laughed at how she talked to no one in particular. "You can't possibly mean to just hide there all day! You gotta come out at some point!" Truthfully, though she joked about it, her eyes were glad for the slight cast of shadow that the clouds put against the forest today.

"Someone! Anyone!"

Frisk jolted out of her skin. She was…alone. Right? She took a startled step in the direction of the voice. "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Help! Please, help!" A soft voice, maybe that of a child, cried out to her.

She began to walk toward the voice that was crying for aide, her heart racing. "Hey! Are you okay?! Where are you?" After waiting a few seconds, she was unrewarded. She wandered around quickly, worry replacing her initial scare. "Hello?"

Frisk turned beyond a tree and found herself touching the lowest branch for what could have been more emotional support than physical. Her eyes widened, curiosity engulfing her. This…was a hole. A giant, giant hole. She ventured closer to it, keeping her feet firm against the ground. It called to her silently, as if it were a memory. She clenched her hand to the front of her sweater, where her heart would be, and called out.

"Hello? Are you down there? Hold on!" She fell on her knees to try and crawl closer to the hole, wincing softly at the snow collecting over her now numbed fingertips. But…she couldn't stop now. Someone could need help. Someone could be hurting…

She was suddenly engulfed in a warm, red glow. Her heart beat madly in her chest, and the numbness that had encased her fingers abandoned its attempt at frostbite. Her eyes felt as if they were going to pop out of her head, and the side of her head tingled, not painfully. Frisk's chest felt like it was about to catch on fire. She stood up and looked down at herself, holding her hands out. A wind blew around her warmly, like a sweet summer breeze. She felt the sudden burst of strength and fortitude solidify around her fingertips into the shape of a heart. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, and every question she had couldn't be properly formed into words. She was scared, but strong. She was unsure, and yet she was completely sure. She was hesitant…but Frisk, for the first time since she could remember was full of determination.

"Welcome back, human." A snide voice echoed behind her, a resentful voice. She turned around quickly, bringing her hands over her heart to protect it, though she could barely register why. Two hands gripped her shoulders uncomfortably, causing her to cry out a little bit. She tried to lay her eyesight on whoever was doing this, but the figure was cloaked in a veil of black. As tall as her, with hands almost as large as hers. "Truly. Welcome. Back! Gyah hah hah heh heh heh!" The voice cackled as if something was funny. The hands deathgripping her shoulders suddenly eased their pressure, and she was given a firm and harsh push…

…right off the edge of the hole, and plummeting into it.

"Send my regards! I'll see you around! Gyah hah HAH HAH HAH!"

Her mind raced. Her hands tightened over her chest—over this new warmth that she had found. She was afraid, but she couldn't let it go. As she fell, the light from the surface grew more and more distant. Frisk feared the ground, wherever it may be. 'Surely,' she thought quickly, 'Surely this will be how I die.' Despite her own negativity, however, she found herself shaking her head. 'I just have to stay strong. I'll be okay.'

And just like that, the world became blanketed in darkness.