Gotta get to school, gotta get to school, gotta get to school.
Frisk repeated that mantra to herself as she ran in the street, ignoring yells of anger and such. Toriel always worried about her safety when she walked to school, fearing she would lose another child in mob business...
She heard the car before a hand grabbed her by the collar, yanking her out of the street. The pink Buick rushed by, over where Frisk had been a second ago. The thirteen year old looked up.
The monster that had grabbed her was a skeleton, holes in his palms. There was two cracks in his skull- one extending under his socket, one extending upwards. A gold eye turned to her.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Y-Yeah."
"What in stars were you doing?"
Frisk was set down, next to a still smoking cigarette. "Walking to school." She said. "Thanks mister!"
Don G Snowdin watched the little girl walk away from him. She hurried through the empty street and soon disappeared. He chuckled as he lit another cigarette. "Weird kid."
In six years, he would eat his words.