"Chara, my child?" Toriel looks over at me from across the table, as I stare dejectedly down at my bowl of broth she had made for Asriel and I. I look up.
"Um..." I stammer,
"You've barely touched your breakfast, are you feeling okay?" I look up and stare directly into her dark brown eyes ensconced in her furry white outer layer. I hold there for a while, saying nothing. "Chara…?" She asks, concerned.
"Yeah-," I blurt out, "I'm okay." I turn back to my broth and go to force some down my throat.
"Chara?" Asriel turns to me, "You're acting weird." I drop my spoon and look back at Toriel. I can't say anything. The corners of my vision are going red. Her eyes turn crimson, her arms start moving up to point at me. My teeth clench hard enough to shatter. My hand reaches down and grabs the butter knife beside the bowl, as I lunge to my left and ram it into Asriel's hand.
"Chara!" He screams as he leaps from his chair, clutching his hand.
"Asriel!" Toriel runs to him and immediately takes his untouched hand, guiding him away into the kitchen at the back of the room. She doesn't turn back to look at me. As I hear Asriel crying and shouting a slew of "It hurts" and "Make it stop" I look down at my hands. My palms looking up at me with a spurt of grey dust over them. I drop the knife and run back to Asriel's room, slamming the door behind me and burying myself under the bedsheets. Lying on an impromptu mattress with naught but a single sheet over it, I curl up and press my eyes into my knees. I try not to cry but can't stop myself…
I feel the sheets being pulled away. I crawl back against the wall,
"Get away from me," I say,
"Chara-,"
"GET AWAY FROM ME-,"
"Chara, calm down-,"
"LEAVE ME ALONE-,"
"CHARA-,"
"NO!" I scream back, and stop crawling. I stand against the wall, one hand resting on it, the other twitching by my side.
"Please-," Toriel says, her knees bent, standing beneath me, "Please try and-,"
"NO!" I shout in her face, "I don't know who the hell any of you are, and I don't know why-,"
"Chara-,"
"I don't-,"
"Chara-,"
"GO!" I yell, spittle frothing from my mouth, "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"
"Chara-,"
"THROW ME OUT! LET ME STARVE, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT-," I feel a sharp pain singe my back, "AH-," I cry out, as I sink back down onto the mattress.
"Chara-," Toriel keeps saying,
"No, I don't-,"
"It's okay."
"No-,"
"It's okay."
"I don't, I don't…"
"Shh…" She says, reaching out a hand.
"No-, I don't, deserve, leave- no-,"
"Chara…" She keeps whispering my name, as her soft, furry palm touches my shoulder.
"I…"
"Shh…" Her arm reaches round and and clutches my other shoulder,
"No…"
"Shh…" She brings me in and holds me close.
"I, I, I, I…"
"It's okay, Chara." She says, "We know how hard it must be, Chara."
"I…" I feel my eyes welling up.
"We're here for you." She says.
"No-, I…"
"We're here for you," she says again, "never forget that."
"N-," I stammer as I feel the first few tears run down my cheeks, mingling with the soft fur on her face, "Never…?
"No, Chara." She says, hugging me closer, "No matter what." I can't hold it in anymore. I start spluttering as I bury my eyes in her arms, my nose blocked, my tears streaming down her arms,
"I'm so sorry…" I say through the onslaught of water from my eyes.
"It's okay…"
"I'm so sorry..."
"It's okay…"
"Never again…"
"Never."
That night, as I lay trying to forget, Asriel called to me from the other side of the room.
"Chara?" He asks. I pause for a few seconds.
"Yeah?"
"Do you feel bad?" He asks. I sit up and turn to him.
"What do you mean?"
"I just…" He trails off. He gets up and comes over, sitting down and crossing his legs next to my mattress. "I want you to know that I don't think you should blame yourself."
"Oh, Asriel-,"
"No, Chara, I don't think it was your fault." I look down at the bandage stained in grey on his right hand.
"You shouldn't-,"
"It's okay." I smile back at him.
"Get some sleep." He giggles.
"Sure thing." He bounds back to his bed and buries himself in the sheets. "Night!" He calls. I look up at the ceiling ensconced in shadow. It's hard imagining that something like this could happen. A family I'm born in treats me like an object but this one I intruded upon treats me like a person. It feels more odd than good. More like something's odd, or that it's almost too good to be true. The fact of the matter is, I should be dead. I want to be able to stop what happened today from happening again. Yeah, that's a good thing to do. I turn over and marinate on the thought as I slowly drift into a dreamless sleep.