Warning: This chapter is not for the faint of heart or those who do not enjoy disturbing content. If that's not you, stop reading. If it is, continue._

Frisk giggled in anticipation. She had been waiting for a long time. It had taken her forever to fix it. Not to mention, it was extremely hard to smuggle that darn Soul. And even longer to fix the machine up. All the machinery and medical supplies were quite old. Frisk was almost thankful her father had forced her to fix their CRAP around the house. She cleaned her face in the sink. She had been sleeping in one of the more furnished rooms. She looked over at the chair. The jacket was still there. Today, she was gonna wear it. Today, it will be soaked in blood.

She skipped down the halls. Frisk loved the doors in this facility. They were completely locked in the inside, but she could just open the door without keys. It was always fun to his confused and frustrated face as she opened the door. Today, though, he wasn't staring at the door, like usually. Sans was staring at the camera. Why though? Did he think if he stared at it long enough, Frisk would let him leave? Or did he want to know why they're there? In that case, maybe she COULD shed some light on that later. But not today. Today is going to be fun.

"Sansy! What are you looking at? Mind sharing it to the class?"

Apparently, he hadn't seen her, and he jumped. Idiot.

"oh, you."

"Well, I am hurt," she pretended.

"sorry that I deeply damaged you. Could you ever forgive me?'

"Nope, but I have an idea of what'll make me feel better! Come on, Sansy! I have a surprise for you!"

She grabbed his wrist and yanked him out of the bed. He winced a little, but other than that, Sans didn't seem to notice. She guided him down the halls. Usually, they would turn right for her Drawing room. But today, they were going left. It seems Sans must have noticed this difference too.

"mind telling me where we're going?" he asked half curious and half sarcastic.

"Aww! But that'll ruin the surprise! We're here anyway!"

They were staring at the door. Frisk opened it, much to Sans absolute frustration at how they work. The door swung open to reveal her workshop. It used to be an operating room, but it was completely destroyed by the time Frisk had found it. Oh well, it was useful now.

She shoved him into the room. The room had a big surgeon table on it with straps. And toys.

" well, now. looks like you've been busy. Science project of something?"

"Yup! It was hard, but I FINALLY DID IT! I FINALLY found a way to get around your obnoxious little problem!"

Apparently, he didn't understand. Does she have to explain everything!?

"Just get on the table!" she yelled. She was so angry that he didn't understand. Why didn't anyone understand?

He reluctantly started to lay down when Frisk jumped in "Oh, but first. Remove your shirt,"

Sans gave her this look that said that 'What the-?'. Not an uncommon face. Frisk had seen it so many times, "Just do it before I decide to snap your neck!"

He rolled his eyes (wait) and took it off. His ribcage was thinner than she'd thought. Not skinny, but not big. In a middle ground, of sorts. Each rib cascaded down till it stopped. His spinal cord seemed to jet down to his- Frisk saw his soul around his neckline. It was so small. So fragile. So breakable. He laid down on the table.

"there?" he mumbled with absolute disinterest. This bothered Frisk. He should be excited. She was.

She hopped over to bed and started to strap him down to the table. THIS warranted a reaction from the otherwise unenthusiastic party pooper.

"what are you doing?"

"Does it concern you? Like you have ANY control over what I do to you?!"

"fair enough," he sighed. He really didn't care. Then again, he didn't understand. He would, eventually. She strapped his down. First, the hands, then feet and the lastly neck. Frisk was bubbling in excitement.

"got a reason for strapping me to a table? Not like I need to hold still for you to kill me," sans asked.

"Actually yes. I do." Frisk said, shaking herself, "I have a very good reason for strapping you to this table."

"mind sharing?"

"Yes, yes I do. Like I said, surprise! Weren't you supposed to be smart?"

"Weren't you supposed to be a sweet kid?"

This bugged Frisk. Was she supposed to be like that? A sweet kid? No, she wasn't. She picked up the syringe. She looked at the anastasis inside. Perfect.

She took the syringe carefully and walked over to the table. She approached him and the syringe caught his eye.

"so you're a doctor now?" The sarcasm in his voice was clear.

"Don't need a degree for what I'm doing. Besides, if I mess up, I can just reset." Frisk taunted back. She liked holding her complete control over time over Sans' head. Very entertaining watching him fail.

"I am so comforted by that fact," he snarked back.

"Oh, hush now. Save your strength!" Frisk giggled. She leaned over to his neckline. Frisk touched his soul. She felt him jump and close his eyes. Dummy. She jabbed the syringe in. He body jerked back in response. He body rattled and slowly came back.

"Sansy! Good job! You didn't die!" she chirped. Sans glared at her. Frisk shrugged. She walked over to her machine. The machine was placed on a roller-desk. She pushed the machine to the table. Frisk stared at the light green, pulsating from the machine. FINNALY!

She grabbed three of the tubes and stuck it into his soul, being careful to make it extremely painful the entire time.

"do you have a reason for sticking me to a life supporter? not like it'll do much good,"

"You'll find out soon enough." Frisk clicked the machine on. It lit up and gave her his stats. One hp. Good, it was working. Frisk went over to the rest of her tools. She grabs the roll of duct tape. She rips some good pieces off. Frisk skipped to Sans, still strapped on the table. Frisk stuck the tape over his smile, making sure to do it tight.

"Now I don't have to listen to your insufferable chat!"

Frisk was so excited. It was WORKING! Frisk skipped to the skeleton. She touched on of his ribs and grabbed it. Frisk yanked the bone upward snapping it off the ribcage. A bloodcurdling scream blared through the room. The duct tape was bloody now. Sans looked like he was choking on his own blood. She giggled. It was funny.

Frisk glanced urgently at the machine. ONE HP! She was so happy, she could scream in joy. Though, he probably has that covered. "Wow! You sure are loud when you scream!"

She tossed the bone onto the ground and stomped on it. Over and over until it was basically a pile of dust. Frisk was surprised when this only summoned a whimper. She wanted him to scream more. Oh well, she had time. And TOYS.

Frisk picked up a blade and examined it. It was sharp and silver. She could see her reflection. Frisk hopped over and leaned into Sans' face. It was flushed with tears and blood, but a defiant look of hatred. She frowned then smiled grimacingly.

She lashed at his ribcage, breaking several ribs. Blood exploded from his wounds. He body jerked upward, and roars of screams echoed in the room. But she could barely hear him now. Her blade clashed violently with the bones. Blood was on face. She ripped with her blade, over and over. Over and over.

She imagined the pain must be excruciating. Every part of your body longing for death, but still tethered to life as the pain soared higher. She cut and snapped his right arm in half. Screams were like white noise now. Blood. Lots of it. She raised her blade to strike again and shoved it down.

The knife hitting the table made a loud noise. Her adrenaline was off the charts. She calmed herself down. Frisk stared at the bloody, dusty table. She breathed and tired to collect her emotions. She felt better. She knew she'd feel better. But now she just wanted more. Every part of ached to slice Sans open again and again. Why did she have to love his screams? Why did she have to love him?