His Demons
WARNING: Mentions of mental illness, drug use, and child abuse/neglect are ahead. Nothing too graphic, but could be triggering for some viewers.
After I wrote about Frisk's mother from my Undertale fanfic, Hopes, Dreams, And DETERMINATION, my awesome friend J-Farraday wanted to know more about Frisk's father, Eric. I had previously mentioned to others that he had emotional/mental problems and used drugs to cope, but as he was barely in the story and Frisk had pretty much no relationship with him, I wanted to show why, and give him more depth, like I gave Frisk's mother, Lola.
While this story can be read alone, you may want to read Hopes, Dreams, And DETERMINATION for more background.
Also, I changed the name of the drug Frisk's parents took from Psylium to Euphoria as a kind reader let me know the drug name I thought I made up actually exists and is a laxative. Don't be like me. Always check to see if drug names exist first...
...
Since he was a young teenager, Eric's mind was always in turmoil. He felt angry far too often, would snap for no reason, then hide in his room, intense shame and guilt overwhelming him. His parents at first thought it was just puberty, but he felt worse and worse as time went on.
They tried to help him, sending him to a variety of therapists and psychiatrists who prescribed him drugs that were supposed to help with the intense surges of emotions and ensuing depressions. But they made him feel dizzy and sick, and he didn't want to take them, so he didn't. He pulled further away from his parents and his friends, joining a crowd of kids that were just like him. Those who had to deal with demons inside them as well.
He started skipping class, smoking, sneaking out at night, and one fateful day one of his friends introduced him to a drug known as Euphoria, saying it would take away all his problems.
And taking that pill, feeling that high, he felt...happy. It was like all his problems vanished, expelled in a haze of joy. But when the high faded, he came crashing back down, feeling worse than before. So he started taking it more and more, spending every bit of money he got from his parents, selling his things, and stealing money whenever he could.
His parents found out. They fought, his mom crying and his dad yelling, and he was given an ultimatum. Throw away his pills and go to rehab, or leave. But he couldn't bring himself to give up the one thing he felt made him happy, so he left. He picked up odd jobs, crashed on friends' couches and lived day to day, sometimes attending classes, sometimes not.
And then one day he met Lola while smoking outside the school. She had come up to him, beautiful with her spiked brown hair and her black tank top and torn jeans, and asked him for a light. They smoked and talked, and her sarcastic humor made him laugh, and for once, the sun shone in his mind without Euphoria. As weeks passed, they grew closer and closer, and he found himself falling for this wild beauty.
But Lola had her own demons, and the demons lived in her house, not her mind. She came to school once, make-up on her face barely covering a black eye. She told him what happened. His anger flared, this time in a way that didn't hurt, and he offered to kill her foster parents for her, but she wouldn't let him. He tried to figure out how to make her feel better, and then his mind landed on the one thing that helped him.
He took out one of the Euphoria pills he managed to buy and gave it to her. "This will take all the pain away, I promise."
She had taken one, and he had taken one, and while the memories were a haze, he remembered such joy. Holding her, kissing her, swaying to music only they could hear as they laughed.
He didn't realize until almost twenty years later, in a prison therapist's office, that in doing this, he had damned her.
But then, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had her, and she made him happy in a way no one else could. That he had made her happy. Through the high, he told her he loved her, and he had thought the love was real, and maybe it was.
They made love, not thinking of the consequences.
And then after several months, Lola wouldn't let him touch her. Her vibrant eyes were haunted and she went through class like a shadow, wearing overly baggy clothes and thick hoodies in even warm weather. She avoided him and it broke his heart.
It took weeks for him to get her alone, and that day, he found her sobbing outside of the school, her face bruised and her knuckles torn, holding her stomach. He had sat next to her, pleading to know what happened, who had done this.
And then she slid her hoodie up, revealing her pregnant belly and his heart had sank. And it got even worse when she told him she had been kicked out.
He knew it was his child. Lola had never been with anyone else, never trusted anyone like she had him. And that day at the back of the school, she looked up at him and told him that he didn't have to stay, that she would understand if he wanted nothing to do with her now.
But he loved her, and at this point it was more real than it had ever been. He wrapped his arm around her and told her that he would never leave her alone.
He dropped out of school, not that he was doing well anyway, and got a job. They both tried to do the right thing for a time. She quit smoking and he made sure not to do it around her or the baby and cut his cigarettes back slowly. They both stopped taking Euphoria, and he got a job at a factory.
Their baby was born in a low income clinic and despite everything that happened afterwards, he still remembered fondly holding her for the first time. Her fine hair was only slightly lighter than her mother's and she had his nose and brown eyes. She looked at him, let out a tiny coo, then grasped the pen he had in his shirt pocket and unsuccessfully tried to pull it out.
He and Lola both laughed, tired, scared, but for this moment, happy, and he aptly said her name should be Frisk. And so it was.
But things didn't stay happy. Frisk was a good baby, but like all infants, she could be fussy. He and Lola had barely any clue what they were doing, being only seventeen and eighteen respectively, and had a lot of trouble trying to figure out how to care for and comfort her. Sometimes it seemed like Frisk would cry for no reason at all, and the crying grated on both their nerves. And when that high pitched cry filled the air, he felt his demons rise up.
And one night they were released.
Frisk had been colicky and crying all night, frustrating both of them, and her wails burst his fragile control. He remembered towering over her crib yelling, "Shut up! Just SHUT UP!"
Frisk of course had cried even louder, terrified, and his demons broke free. He reached out angrily, wanting to shake and throttle her, make the cries piercing his ears just STOP.
And then, thankfully before he touched her, he realized what he was doing and yanked his hands back. Frisk wailed and his beloved Lola was looking at him in pure terror.
He could have killed Frisk.
He was no better than Lola's parents.
He stammered out an apology, then he ran.
...
That night, unable to cope with what he had almost done, he took the Euphoria pills he kept for "emergencies" and took them, trying to soothe the painful emotions inside. It worked for a while, but when the high faded, he felt worse than before.
He couldn't stand what he had become. He started pushing Frisk away, staying away from his baby as much as possible. He worked, he got high, anything he could to push the demons away for a while.
And in doing so, he pushed Lola away too.
Frisk spoke her first words without him there. Took her first steps without him there. Lola was constantly frazzled, upset, and resigned, but she stayed. And one night she came to him, sat next to him, and asked for one of his Euphoria pills. As little one year old Frisk cried in her room, they laughed and danced like they once had.
But after the high wore off, they realized nothing had changed at all.
He still loved Lola, as much as he once had, but nothing could chase his demons away.
...
Years passed, through the haze of drugs and demons. He lost his job at the factory after failing a drug test and bounced from job to job, never staying at any for more than a few months. Frisk grew from a baby into a little girl, a little girl who somehow still loved him and tried to reach him, but he pushed her away every time, not wanting his demons to touch her. And in doing that, he broke her heart, her innocence becoming resignation, sadness, and a slowly growing anger that was different from his, low simmering and tired rather than burning like hellfire.
His relationship with Lola was just as shattered. He could only connect with her now when he was high, could only remember the happiness he had once felt with her while under Euphoria. When the withdrawal hit, they may have sat in the same room together, but they were miles apart, tired and apathetic. Lost.
And then Lola became pregnant again. They talked about abortion and adoption, but in the end, Lola couldn't bring herself to do either of those things, and she kept the baby.
Eric wasn't sure about this, but he still loved Lola, and part of him pleaded with himself to be better, especially when he held the tiny, beautiful baby with dark brown hair and brown eyes just like his who he named Tina after his mother. But parenting hadn't gotten any less hard, and like her sister, Tina cried a lot.
Frisk proved herself to be a godsend. She cooked meals for them and cleaned the house, but mostly stayed out of the way at first. But when Tina was six months old, everything changed.
He had been exhausted and Tina had been crying all day, so when she had started up again at midnight, he lost his temper and once again yelled, though he stayed in his room, fighting to control his temper. Tina had cried for a few minutes longer, then finally stopped. With a mix of relief and horrible guilt, he fell back to sleep, and when he woke up the next morning, he found Frisk in the living room with Tina in her lap, feeding her a bottle. He had felt a million emotions at the sight, but when Frisk had finally noticed him, giving him a wary look while her arms wrapped around around Tina protectively, he simply turned and walked away.
Frisk learned how to feed Tina, how to change her, how to take care of every one of her needs. She was a better parent than they were and they all too easily and gladly gave up the responsibility.
Neither of them thought of how hard that must have been on Frisk. On both girls.
Eric felt much freer now. Free to party, free to play like he once had, and that's what he and Lola did. They drank, did drugs, held wild parties, anything to make themselves happy and chase the demons away.
They didn't realize then that in doing this, they had given up what was truly good, were missing what was most important. Eric had gotten so lost in artificial happiness that he had forgotten how to be happy for real. Forgotten almost how to feel real emotions at all.
He never noticed or thanked Frisk for her quiet dependability. Pushed Tina away when she sat on his lap and gave him her teddy bear when he was hung over because he "looked sad."
He had done everything he could to hide from his demons, and in that, had let them take over fully. He never realized how much he had left to be shattered until the week Frisk and Tina disappeared and he and Lola were arrested.
His demons came out full force and he yelled and raged at the officers, saying cruel things about them, and about his two innocent children. He remembered their looks of horror and disgust. How Frisk had refused to look at them and Tina was terrified during the trial.
His demons had driven him to rock bottom, and as guilt eventually replaced anger, he realized he hadn't even fought them at all.
...
He spent years in prison, and even more years going to therapy. He found out what created his demons, what caused the anger inside him.
Borderline Personality Disorder, which had gone misdiagnosed and untreated for far too long.
They found him medications that didn't make him sick. Had him talk to the prison therapist for years, until the demons began to recede and he fully confronted what he had done.
He was made to quit Euphoria, to quit drinking, and was helped to find ways to work himself through the withdrawals without backsliding or violence. He found more constructive means to let out his emotions, spending hours in the woodshop, cutting and building and shaping, pouring his emotions into his work. He ate as healthy as he could. Got plenty of rest.
The anger started to ebb, and his emotions began to settle, but he couldn't bring back the years he had lost.
He had no contact other than a letter from his daughters. Frisk told him how she felt about what he did, but also said she forgave him. He wrote back a simple, "Thank you. I'm sorry." addressed to both of them. He didn't know what else to say. He was a stranger to them, he had made himself a stranger to them, and it would be best for them not to have him in their lives.
He and Lola broke up. It hurt. He still loved her, but love couldn't always make two people good for one another.
While it made him sad, it didn't make him rage like it would have so long ago. She was released a few months before him and he hoped she found happiness.
He wrote to his parents and siblings for the first time in over twenty years, apologizing for what he put them through. They responded, and though the letters were a bit tense at first, and his younger sister didn't want contact at all, they eventually opened up, and so did he.
And when he was released, for the first time in too long, he stepped into his mother and father's arms and hugged them.
...
He decided to leave the state, move closer to his parents, and get a fresh start. And the day he was set to leave, hurrying to meet the bus that would take him to the airport without watching where he was going, he ended up crashing into someone.
"Sorry!" the voice of a young teenage girl apologized. And as she picked up his suitcase for him, his breath caught as he looked into an all too familiar pair of bright brown eyes.
Tina was nearly fifteen now, her hair long and wavy rather than in the pigtails she once favored(though she still clearly retained her fondness for puppies, as evidenced by the golden retriever on her black t-shirt), and she wore jean skirts rather than dresses. But in her eyes, in that friendly smile, he saw the tiny girl that had sat on his lap and gave him a hug and her teddy bear just because he was sad, despite all the times he had pushed her away.
The smile faded and became a look of worry. "You okay, Mister? Did I hurt you?"
He realized she didn't recognize him. It was understandable. He looked older now, his hair had grayed, and she had only been six when she last saw him.
"No, don't worry. And don't be sorry, I should have been watching where I was going. I was just in too much of a hurry to find the bus." he told her with a smile, deciding not to tell her who he was. He didn't want to scare her, or make her lose that smile.
"Oh, I just came off of it. It's right across the street." Tina told him with a smile. "It leaves in like ten minutes."
"Thanks." he told her gratefully, then spoke the words he wished he had so long ago. "You're a good kid." He patted her shoulder. "Have a nice day."
"You too, sir!" she told him brightly before running down the sidewalk. He watched as she called out to a spider monster boy wearing a red polo shirt, and happily tackled the boy into a hug. Her brown eyes, so much like his, sparkled, completely free of his demons.
He smiled as he crossed the street and waited for the bus that would take him to his new life. His daughters were happy, for real.
And though he could never change the past, and his demons would always be with him, though finally quiet, in seeing this, he too had finally found his happiness.
