Umm… Undertale is still by Toby Fox…

By the way, this chapter may be a little dark. (Just a little, but it will not be that dark after this chapter.)

CHAPTER 9

Laying in a soft bed of buttercups. Seeing darkness. That was what was happening. The soft thuds of feet on grass. Then, a male child's voice."It came from over here… oh! You must've fallen! Here, I'll help you up." A furry, and small paw. "What's your name?" Silence… "Chara, huh?" [NOTE: I know what he really says, I named the main character Frisk for a reason. It will all be explained at the end.] "What a nice name! My name is-"

Frisk's leg felt numb, her back ached, and her wrist was sore. She was laying down on her back. Frisk opened her eyes quickly to find herself staring at nothing. She rolled over, and found that she was laying in the petals of golden buttercups. Despite being crushed by Frisk's wight, they still swayed peacefully in the gentle breeze. It smelled awful! Smelled like a dump! This was confirmed when Frisk looked over to see a pile of trash and trash bags.

Frisk shivered as she noticed flies buzzing around it, landing on pieces of moldy food. There were pieces of shattered wood around where Frisk was standing. She was ultimately surprised not to have a single splinter. Frisk took a deep sigh. Ready to move on. Frisk felt her belt to make sure her green item pouch was still there, luckily, it was. Not even loose! Frisk stepped over the buttercups to prevent further damage. Her pulse pounded through her head, and she had a massive headache.

She limped over bits of trash scattered around the sand, and tried to keep her wrist still. Out of nowhere, her torn boot caught onto a small branch, sticking out of the ground, and she lost her balance, falling face first. Frisk looked at the spot in the grainy sand where her face had hit, and saw flecks of blood. Her lip grew sore, and she began to feel sick to her stomach. Frisk could feel her soul shaking… weak… helpless… empty of determination. Frisk laid on her side, in the damp sand, and tears formed in her eyes. She started crying. All she wanted was to go home now. She didn't want to help anybody but herself.

Frisk continued to sob. Lonely. Tired. Afraid. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for death. Frisk groaned… and shivered… and groaned some more. Frisk reached for a slightly torn poster of a box-shaped robot on one wheel, underneath it were the letters 'MTT'. Frisk did her best to cover herself up with that damp poster. Tears continued streaming down her face, and the pain continued to sting. All that was left to do, was wait. Wait until she bled, starved, or even freezed to death. Frisk couldn't stop thinking, of what she could've done better. Nothing came to thought. Frisk slowly began to drift off into the land of nod. She wanted to just fall asleep, and not wake up. Suicide would be tough due to the lack of many lethal items. (Except trash, but that would've been a slow, and suffering death.) Frisk began to fall into a deep sleep.

Going… going… gone. Frisk had fallen into a deep sleep, with a bleeding leg, and a MTT poster draped over her pale, cold body. "Frisk… it cannot end here…" boomed a deep voice, seemingly in her head. "Stay determined…" the voice said. Frisk felt helpless. She wished she could 'stay determined', but she would die anyway. Frisk had done enough damage for once. "Keep on going! Don't give up!" Boomed the deep voice. Once again, Frisk lay motionless, hoping the voice would shut up and let her die. "Think of your friends…" said the voice calmly. Frisk thought that was a ridiculous idea, but she did it anyway. Toriel. Her soft, warm and fluffy hugs. Sans. His terrible puns. Papyrus. His love of spaghetti and puzzles, who was so goofy, he was irresistible. Napstablook, from the Ruins. There was probably some way to cheer that depressed ghost up. Everyone would be devastated if their friend died only an hour after they met, all because she gave up. No. Giving up was no excuse to die.

Frisk's eyes shot open. Her leg was still sore, the MTT poster was still over her limp body, and her hair was still a mess. After struggling, Frisk managed to get on her feet. She wiped some tears off of her cold face with her sleeve, and began limping toward a golden glow in the distance.