…the bones in her hands exploded through her skin
…the witch collapsed.
Chapter 22
Bravery and Perseverance
-1 hour earlier-
The clatter of chain.
The draw of steel.
(The muzzle, the leash)
"Don't do nothin', Dollface."
Threatening. Warning.
The witch closed her eyes.
She breathed.
In.
Out.
Through.
A pulse of orange light erupted from her cracked fingertips and threw the skeleton off guard. His body clipped the wall and he fell like a dead weight.
The girl grinned wildly, her eyes blazed an infected orange.
"You're completely fucked." She barked, reveling in the energy that flowed through her. The energy that she bent to her will, the energy that coursed through her veins and fueled her anger, her desire, her lust.
The impostor rubbed a raw knuckle against his head. He was confused. Scratch that, he was completely and utterly baffled. He couldn't believe that this weak mutt who had been rolling in filth for weeks, unable to move from the pain of surgery and the new bruises he had lovingly inflicted, could possibly fight back in any capacity. He thought that he had broken her spirit. Clearly, he was wrong.
The skeleton cracked his chain like a whip, sending sparks flying. Sounded to him that this self-proclaimed witch needed to learn that her tricks wouldn't fly with him. Just as he wound up to unleash himself on the girl, Wicca snapped a stack of cards into her hand.
Edged in an orange hue, they cut through the air like daggers and impaled themselves into their target. One after the other bit bone, Jack, Joker, Three of Hearts. Their victim stumbled back in shock. He barely had a breath before the witch flexed her fingers and the cards pushed in, sending purple fissures across the points of intrusion.
The sounds of the impostor's bones splintering brought a smile to Wicca's lips. She drove the cards deeper, eliciting a cry that made the girl laugh.
"It isn't quite as fun when you're the one to get hurt, is it, Little Red?"
The skeleton glowered through his pain but said nothing.
Wicca narrowed her eyes lazily, high from the buzz and thrum in her veins. The witch slowly walked over to the collapsed impostor, setting a boot against his ribs. She pulled the collar of his jacket to her face and she breathed in his fear.
She peered into his eyes, and an image of her Sans flashed into her mind. She stumbled back and fell, releasing the skeleton from her grip.
The witch coughed as she tried to stand amid a dust cloud. Eyes watering, she tried to squint through the thinning fog where she could make out a short blurb retreating.
Before Wicca could react, a pale bone sailed through the air and nearly impaled her on the spot. The girl growled in response and flexed her blackened fingers.
-1 hour later-
Wicca couldn't tear her gaze from the leaking hydrogen peroxide bottle. She could feel Sans looking at her, but she couldn't bring herself to stare him in the eye.
She wasn't sure when it happened, but she knew that she had changed. Her time with the impostor Sans had created a version of herself that was cruel and vicious, and she didn't want her Sans to see it. But, she didn't know if she would be able to contain that vile part of her. She had spent too long in hell.
"I'm sorry." She muttered weakly.
Sans shuffled from foot to foot, uneasy.
"You don't need-Look, if you-" Sans blundered about, trying to find a way to say what he was feeling.
"I want you-"
Wicca wrapped her arms around the skeleton and squeezed.
"I tried to come sooner. I tried so hard. I- I think I killed you. I think I killed the monster that shared you name. I couldn't help it, I became something-I became someone else. The things that I saw…The things that I did. Sans, it hurts so much."
-1 hour earlier-
The witch and skeleton faced each other, each battered and bruised. A calm tranquility passed over the girl. She had hoped to defeat Sans and find her way back to her skeleton. In the weeks before she had tortured herself by breaking her hands and fingers, spreading the charred blackness from her tips to a centimeter before the first digit. She had found a way to create some sort of tear in space, and after more practice she managed to make it larger. Eventually, she saw him, her Sans, sitting at a table looking bored out of his mind. She had cried, cried because she got to see him, cried because she found him, cried because…it was the only thing holding her together anymore.
Every time she spent her magic, ever time she drew and cast energy, the blackness crept ever closer. She didn't know what it meant, and she was terrified of finding out, but she had no choice if she wanted to get back to Sans.
Even now, in the face of her tormentor, she could only think of her Sans waiting. She wasn't sure anymore. She wasn't certain that she could muster the strength to get to him anymore, she was already tired, already injured, already spent. But, she wouldn't stop trying.
The witch stretched out her hand, extending her fingers toward the skeleton. A faint purple sheen lightly dusted them, and a spark of light burst forth and smacked the monster square in the chest.
In agitation, the impostor raked his chain back and managed to catch a broken saw blade. From exhaustion, Wicca couldn't dodge in time. The blade sank into her thigh, and her vision swam with black. She could only feel the hot blood trail down her leg and hear the screaming in her brain. One second she was in the basement, and the next she was surrounded in a purple haze before she fainted.
When she came to, the skeleton's bones were cracked and splintered with steam raising off the body. An explosion of blood coated his surroundings, and Wicca was left whirling from the pain and vertigo.
She blinked. Hard.
She needed to get out.
She had to find Sans.
And so, she lifted her hands and tore the air, and tore, and tore until she fell through.
-20 minutes later-
The witch unwrapped herself from Sans.
He looked started and surprised, and if Wicca had the energy she would have laughed at his expression.
"Can we please go back?"
Sans furrowed his brow bone, "Go back where?"
"Your home, my hell."
Sans made a face, "How."
Wicca smiled (and Sans felt a weight press off of him. She was in there, somewhere. Enough to smile, at least), "That's easy."
The witch tore the air with her blackened fingers and kicked Sans into the void. Wicca looked down at the bloodied and broken saw blade lying on the cold tile before she followed after.