A/N: Hi guys! Back again! All I gotta say is hope you enjoy this chapter and have fun! :3
-:- Last Chapter . . . -:-
Frisk sniffles slightly, wrapping his arms around Toriel as she began carrying him away from the corridor.
Frisk felt his eyes begin to weigh, becoming heavier and heavier the farther they got.
And soon enough, he'd fallen fast asleep.
-:-
Frisk was floating in the darkness.
He tried moving, but his body seemed frozen stiff. From what he could see, there was nothing. Just a vast, empty darkness, until he spotted a silhouette in the distance. He couldn't tell who or what it was, but it seemed to be holding something.
Suddenly, a brighter figure, in the shape of a white heart, appeared in front of the silhouette. The silhouette raised its right arm; the object in its hand glimmered. The next moment, the silhouette attacked the heart, causing a large crack through the middle of it. The heart vibrated for a moment, as if struggling, then broke into two pieces before disintegrating into the darkness. The figure then turned, facing Frisk.
Frisk felt himself gasp, his heart skipping a beat.
Its face was . . . deformed. It smiled sadisticly as its eyes bled, the tears of blood trailing down it's face. And in its hand was a knife, worn, but pointed sharply.
Frisk wanted to cover his eyes, but his body still refused to move, only shaking slightly. He tried closing his eyes, but they refused to. He just couldn't stop staring, no matter how hideous it looked.
The figure began to move closer to him, muttering things louder and louder as it came nearer and nearer.
"She was only trying to protect you. But you killed her." Frisk heard it say.
What? What was it talking about? Who was it talking about? He would never kill any one, not even a monster. Right? Not unless they tried to hurt him.
Frisk wanted to back away from the figure, but his legs refused. He wanted to cover his ears, block out the awful mutters, but his arms still didn't respond. He could only stand there and stare until the figure was right up to his face.
"It's all your fault." The figure raised its arm, knife gleaming. It struck.
-:-
Frisk woke up with a jolt, screaming. Footsteps could be heard from outside where he was, hurrying towards him. Suddenly, a door opened, Toriel standing in its opening.
"Child, what's wrong?" She asked as she hurried towards Frisk, wrapping her arms around him and petting his hair soothingly. He hugged Toriel back, crying into her chest. She quietly began to shush him, telling him it was just a bad dream. Frisk was thankful for that.
A few moments passed before he calmed down, now only hanging onto the motherly goat, tears streaming down his face.
"My child," Toriel began to say. "Would you like to talk about it?" Frisk wanted to, but he didn't want to remember that face. He didn't want to remember what that thing had said about him. Those awful words.
Frisk shook his head, sobbing slightly as he inhaled. He didn't hear a response from Toriel, but he could tell she wasn't going to push him for information. It was nice. None of his foster parents had ever done that. Sure, sometimes he did need to talk about things, it helped . . . but not often. Otherwise, it was just annoying. They weren't his parents after all. They were only ever temporary. Hopefully it wouldn't be that way with Toriel. He was more than thankful to have met her. He felt like an actual son for once, not just some foster kid.
He felt like this was home. Hopefully, it would stay like that.
-:-
A/N: Short chapter, I know. I'll come back to this later and spruce it up a bit probably. Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! Remember that I'm entirely open to any constructive criticism! See ya guys next chapter!