After your date with Papyrus, if you could even call it that, you were invited to stay the night. You were surprised to say the least. They hardly knew you, yet were comfortable inviting you into their home? You didn't want to question it, in case they decided to change their minds.
Papyrus was more than happy to let you use his bed for the night, but you felt guilty enough just staying there, you couldn't take his bed too.
"Oh Papyrus, thank you but the couch is more than fine! Besides, it's just one night for me, but you need all the rest you can get so you can make more of those amazing puzzles in the morning!" You knew it was a little dirty to play on his love of puzzles like that, but you didn't want to fight him on it. You were drained. You caught Sans' eye and smiled as he gave you a hidden thumbs-up.
"In that case dear Human, I, The Great Papyrus, will spare no expense to ensure your complete comfort and satisfaction!" He explained quite exuberantly. He rushed around the house, pulling out every spare pillow and blanket there was. He began piling them in your arms, but when you couldn't hold anymore, he began piling them on top of your head.
You just grinned at him and watched as he danced around like a puppy. By the time he was finished purging the house of all bedding materials, he was panting. You had enough blankets and pillows to make at least four beds, but you wouldn't tell him that.
A clock somewhere in the house struck the hour. You counted the chimes as you placed the bedding on the floor next to the couch. It was almost ten in the evening. It sure was a long day… at least you had somewhere to sleep for your first actual night in the Underground. You're first night with Toriel didn't really count.
You laid out a few blankets and pillows to make a comfortable bed, or nest as you liked to call it back home. You could hear Sans and Papyrus shuffling around upstairs, the latter more so. You snuggled into the makeshift bed and stared at the ceiling fan as it made lazy circles. Thinking back on your day, your head began to ache.
Was it really all one day? It felt like a lifetime since you had your standoff with Toriel. You felt the stress melting from your muscles, and tears began to prick at your eyes. You were so… content. You sigh, accepting the truth of the matter.
You couldn't stay, no matter how badly you wish you could. You couldn't stay with Toriel, and you can't stay with the brothers. You didn't belong here. You felt a familiar itching on your arm, but you tried to ignore it. You didn't need any further damage.
You thought about the life you left behind in the human world. No friends, an almost non-existent family, all the pressure to be strong when really you're breaking down with each and every passing second…
You wipe your cheeks, trying to sop up some of the wetness. You couldn't stay here… but you couldn't go back. You didn't belong anywhere…
The itching in your arm grew tenfold and you knew you needed to fix it before it drove you absolutely insane. You pulled the top layer of blankets aside and pulled out the little pocket knife you fell down with. You always kept it on you, at first for protection, then later for this exact purpose. You tightened your hold on the closed handle as you searched for the bathroom.
The light was still on, probably left by Sans so you'd be able to find it. He really is thoughtful. Maybe you should talk to Papyrus about going a little easier on his dear brother. Sans does a lot for him. But that isn't your place. You don't have a place.
Shutting the door as quietly as possible, you made sure it's locked nice and tight before pulling off your sweater. Your arm was a lattice of interlacing scars. Most were healed, but a few were still quite pink. Before you fell, you were abusing your thigh more than your arm, but down here no one cared. Down here, you could cut your arm as much as you liked without having to worry. The thought made your chest feel funny. Not quite relief but not quite anxiousness.
You unfold the little pocket knife and look in the mirror. Your hair was a mess from running around all day, and the bags under your eyes were big enough to land a plane on. You looked sickly, no way around it.
Sighing at your reflection, you turned your attention back to the knife in your hand. No longer do your hands shake when about to cut. No, your hands were as steady as your resolve. You made the first cut, hissing sharply as the pain hit your senses. The adrenaline hasn't kicked in yet, so each cut felt even more excruciating.
By the third cut, you felt the high finally set in. By the seventh cut, you didn't care about the blood dripping onto tile flooring. By the tenth cut, that wonderful black edge around your vision appeared. It wasn't enough blood loss to be dangerous to your health in any extreme way. You made sure of it. You made the final cut, twelve, and surveyed your handy work.
Twelve beautifully crimson cuts were lines up perfectly from your elbow to an inch above your wrist. You placed the knife on the sink, not wanting to accidentally drop the slick blade while trying to clean up.
Now your hands were shaking, and you realized maybe you went a little too far. It took almost an entire roll of toilet paper and three flushes to clean everything up. By this point your head was starting to swim in a not so enjoyable way. You also realized you don't have any kind of bandages on you. The closest ones were down by your stuff, and you didn't want to be fumbling around in the dark looking for them. You also didn't want to rummage through the medicine cabinet, just because that would be an awful thing to do as a guest.
You take what's left of the toilet paper roll and wrap it around your forearm like you would wrap a mummy. The white was instantly stained by the scarlet, but there was nothing more you could do. Your world was beginning to tilt and jolt.
Sliding your shirt back on, you turn off the light and make your way back to the couch, trying to make as little noise as possible as you ran into furniture and stairs in the dark. You find the couch and stumble, your knees suddenly giving out momentarily.
You crawled back into the blankets, and you were suddenly a thousand times more comfortable than you were before. You briefly thought about how too much blood loss could prevent you from waking up, but you were just too tired to care about that at the moment.
Besides… you've done worse before, and you woke up just fine. Nothing to be worried about.
If only you remembered the knife.
Sans woke up early the next morning for his first job at the hot dog stand. Papyrus calls him lazy, but he worked more than his fair share of jobs. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. He managed to beat his alarm by three minutes.
Clicking off the alarm, Sans made his way to the bathroom, dragging his feet along the carpeting of the hallway. He knew Papyrus wouldn't be up for at least another hour, and he didn't hear anything from the living room, so their house guest must still be asleep.
He lazily flicked the light on with his powers and stopped dead, no longer tired in the slightest. On the sink was a small pocket knife, the blade still open. The handle and blade were coated in a dark brownish color, and the sink had a few drops on it. He felt his bones go cold.
Though he didn't know you very well yet, he really did enjoy your company. He also knew something was wrong the second you started talking, but he couldn't tell what. Sans guessed that now he had his answer. With the flick of a wrist the sink was cleaned, the knife now hidden safely in his room. He trudged downstairs, making a mental note to come up with some excuse for missing work again today.
You were sleeping peacefully, the rise and fall of your chest barely visible. Sans crouched next to the couch and felt your forehead. His fingers met cold and clammy skin. He pulled back, startled. He hadn't had much experience with humans in general, but he at least knew that's not what they're supposed to feel like.
He placed two fingers on the side of your neck, just where your chin meets your throat. There it was, your pulse. It was faint, but it was there. Now he knew without a doubt something was wrong. He cursed under this breath and wished for the first time he knew more about human anatomy.
He noticed dark splotches on the sleeve of your jacket, and pulled the sleeves back. The toilet paper wrapping your arm was soaked through. Instead of doing what he originally wanted to do, which was wake you up and shake you for being so stupid as to hurt yourself, he removed the soaked bandages and found some real bandaging. He carefully rewrapped your arm and pulled the fabric back down. He took a shuddery breath and stood. He placed a hand on your forehead again, hoping you felt a little healthier.
You stirred under his touch and he pulled away, afraid of waking you up. He heard another body moving around upstairs and knew his bro was awake. He felt a twinge in his chest as he pulled the blanket up around you and thought of a lie to tell his brother.
He trudged up the stairs, feeling the sweat start to bead on his forehead. He rapped two knuckles on Pap's bedroom door, taking a deep breath. The door creaked open and Sans made a note to fix the hinges. Pap stuck his head out and looked at his brother in confusion.
"Hey bro…" Sans scratched the back of his head. "Uhh I think the kid's is sick, so I need you to make sure she stays here and gets better and stuff. Maybe you could make her some soup? Read her a story?" Papyrus looked genuinely distressed at the news.
"Will the Human be alright?"
"Yeah bro, as long as you take real good care of her."
"But why me brother? You were always the caretaker when I fell ill." Sans gave his brother a big smile.
"Don't worry bout that bro. I have something that needs to be taken care of. I'll be back as soon as possible to help." He turned to leave his brother, but thought of something important. "Oh, bro. If she tried to fight back or tell you she's fine, don't believe her. She thinks she's stronger than she really is. Make sure she stays here, okay?"
"I understand brother. Keep the human here, keep the human safe." Sans gave another big smile and zapped out of the house.
Sans knocked on the lab door, feeling nostalgia at being back at Alphys' lab. The heat of the land was starting to get to him, the jacket not helping the amount on sweat forming on his head. He counted to three, than five before hearing sounds behind the door. The door slid open and he was greeted by the small shaking scientist.
"O-oh hi Sans. What are you going in H-hotlands?" Sans gave her a reassuring smile.
"I just have a few questions, and I figured you would be the best person to talk to." She perked up and ushered Sans inside. She sat him down and implored him to continue. She was always willing to help a friend.
"S-so, um… what's up Sans?" The skeleton suddenly deflated a little, fidgeting in his chair.
"Um…" now that he was there, he didn't know how to ask his questions. "Why would someone… purposely injure themselves?"
"OH! Um…" Alphys started glancing around frantically. "Um… well sometimes when p-people feel u-useless or like they don't b-belong, they hurt themselves as p-punishment um… and sometimes to uh… make them feel like they're r-real?"
Sans sat back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. It made sense, that's for sure. Now the issue was how he was going to talk to the kid about this. Sans knew immediately that she would resist any kind of help he would want to give.
"Um… Sans? Is something wrong? Why are you a-asking these kind of questions?" Sans gave her a reassuring smile.
"Ah I was just curious doc. Don't get your scales in a twist. Hey, I gotta go. Got some jobs to take care of. Thanks for your help Alphys." He used the door like any normal being, but teleported back to the house as soon as the door separated himself from Alphys.
He landed right out front of his house, and was immediately tackled by a much larger person. His brother was clinging to him, tears pouring from his eyes. He was babbling incoherently, and Sans couldn't understand a single word was saying. Sans pulled his brother to his feet and tried to get him to calm down.
"T-the Human! S-she's G-GONE!" he erupted in another wave of sobs and Sans felt his whole body go cold.
"Bro what happened?"
"I went to take care of her and she seemed really upset that she was sick, so I tried to comfort her, telling her I'll make some special chicken spaghetti soup! She went quite for a second and said she was looking forward to it! So I went into the kitchen to make some soup, and I heard her go to the bathroom. I thought it was strange she was in there for so long so I went to check on her but your door was wide open! She must have gone through your window or something! I looked all over Snowdin, but no one saw her leaving!" Sans felt even colder as he bolted up the stairs.
His room was an even bigger mess than ever before. Each drawer over turned and all the papers pushed aside. Sans rushed to the drawer that hid her knife and knew before he even looked in that it would be empty. Something white caught his eye.
There was a piece of paper on his pillow, folded neatly in half. Sans opened the note with shaking fingers and read the neat handwriting.
Sans- I'm guessing you found out. I would ask you to forget about it, but I know you won't. What I will ask of you is to not tell anyone. I'm already a feared human. I don't need any more reason for people to hate me. I don't know when I'll be back, if I'll be back at all. Thank you for letting me stay. Apologize to Papyrus for me. I shouldn't have run away from him.
Your name was signed at the bottom, and Sans sat down on his bed, feeling defeated. There was nothing he could do for you now.
You woke up with a start. After leaving the skeleton's home, you continues your adventure. You managed to stay alive for most of it, but it was the darn dog guard that did it in for you. He wasn't even trying to hurt you, he just got too excited. You woke up, feeling the phantom ache of where the injuries were.
Thankfully you SAVED fairly soon before the battle, so you didn't lose too much of your life. It's hard to mess with the timelines like that. No one else really seemed to notice it too much, but it was obvious to you. You sat up and rubbed your head, hoping to make the pain subside a little.
You missed the skeletons. You missed Toriel. You missed being around people, but it was better this way. You couldn't burden anyone this way. It had been at least a week, if not more, since you last really talked to anyone. You pushed your hand into your pocket and felt the warm metal of the knife. You felt a little guilty going through Sans' room, but you needed this knife. It was the only thing you really needed to have with you.
You can't believe you were dumb enough to leave it sitting out that night… you knew as soon as you saw the wrappings on your arm that Sans was the one who did them. Mostly because you weren't woken up by an extremely loud, extremely scared skeleton.
Hanging your head, you remind sitting on the ground. You guilt filled every fiber of your being. It took a while, but you managed to stand and continue on your journey. You heard that very specific laugh in the distance a few times since leaving, but you tried your hardest to avoid it.
You walked until you made it to the Hotlands. There was a booth, but no one around. Looking in all directions to make sure no one was going to jump out at you and fight you, you made your way to the booth and sat behind it, your back against the wood.
Taking a deep breath, you took some time to think about your adventure so far. More importantly, you took the time to think about all the things you've done wrong so far since falling down. Your arm began to itch again, the wounds from the house healed since the last time you reset. You flicked the knife open with practice ease and pressed the blade against the ground, watching the silver start to turn red with heat.
With grin satisfaction, you pressed the blade against your arm, not breaking the skin just yet. The searing pain sent a spike of clarity though your mind. It was getting hard to think again, and the pain was your favorite way to clear the fog.
You tilted the blade so the sharped part was pressing against your taunt skin. You pressed down just enough to see the skin pull against the knife. Just as you were about to put pressure of the tip of the knife to break the skin, a hand on your shoulder stopped you.
You jumped, surprised. In your surprise, you let the knife push into your arm. It wasn't the nice pretty cut you wanted, but it drew blood and caused you pain. That's all you needed. A breath of relief flew past your lips before you managed to look behind you and see who interrupted you.
A blue aura surrounded your knife and ripped it from your hand and threw it across the way. Sans looked down at you, a forlorn look in his dark eyes. His grin was twisted into a sad little frown. He shook his head slightly and sat next to you.
"That's what I thought…"
"I'm not going to stop."
"I wasn't going to ask that." You shook your head. As if.
"What were you going to ask?"
"Why do you do it?"
"I…" You all of a sudden didn't know how to explain it. "I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere. I do this because… because it reminds me of who I am. Of what I am. Keeps me from thinking I'm something better than I really am. Plus, it helps me think. When my head gets all jumbled, it helped me think clearly."
You didn't look at him. You were sure he didn't know what you meant. You barely knew what it meant. It was hard to explain.
"That… makes sense I think." You whipped your head around to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his eye sockets blank.
"Do you hate me now?" His whole body jerked in surprise.
"What? N-no! Of course not- how the hell could I hate you?" You look at your hands and clench them tightly together. You take a few breaths before answering.
"Back home… in the Aboveground. They found out and thought I was weak. A failure. They called me a freak… a monster. They hated me because I hurt myself… which made me hate myself even more. I… I wanted to end it all the day I went up the mountain." You were shaking again, your breath picking up. You didn't look as Sans, but you felt his hand wrap around yours in a comforting way. "I figured, those who went up the mountain never returned. They talked about monsters, but I didn't believe those stories.
"It took me a while to find the hole. I thought I would die just on the way up, but no. I found the hole. And I threw myself down it. I thought the impact would kill me instantly, but I was wrong. I was so wrong… Now here I am. I don't belong up there, and I certainly don't belong down here. The only place someone like me belongs is six feet under the ground." Your voice was so bitter, so filled with hatred, Sans found himself being filled with fear.
"You can't really think that, can you?" A chipped, bitter laugh dripped from your mouth.
"You can't really think I'm not all of those things. I knew you were lazy, but I didn't know you were an idiot too." He signed and shook his head, pushing himself off the ground. He stood in front of you and held out a boney hand.
"Come on kid. There's always a place on our couch for you. Pap will be ecstatic if you came back, and we could eat dinner together. You belong with us." You start crying again, despite your best efforts to stop the tears.
"You'll get tired of me. You'll realize what a burden I really am… You'll learn to hate me just like everyone else did."
"I could never hate you Kiddo. It would be like hating Pap. Just not possible." You still refused to give him your hand.
"I don't deserve this."
"Don't say that kid. You're amazing. I mean, look at you! You came here to kill yourself, but you're still alive and kicking. If that's not strength, I don't know what is. You made it all the way to the Hotlands, and never once did you give up. That's pretty admirable if you ask me. Maybe these monsters should take a page out of your book. Might teach them a thing or two about what it means to truly be alive."
You take his hand and nearly tackle him, burying your face in his shoulder. You sobbed, soaking the fabric, but it felt so good. These weren't bitter tears, wet with hatred and pain. These were happy tears, pulling all the negativity out of your soul. It was wonderful.
In a flash, you were back in Snowdin, the chilly air a welcome feeling from the sweltering place you just were. The door flew open as soon as you made a single step to the house. Papyrus was standing there, grinning from ear to ear, eyes wide with tears. Happy tears of course.
He scooped you up into a tight hug, squeezing the life out of you. The hug pulled at your arm and the slight cut you made when Sans scared you, but you were too busy being amazed to care much at all.
"Why are you so happy to see me?"
"Why? Dear Human I have missed your company greatly! It was so dull at home with just my lazy bag of bones brother to keep me company. Besides…" his hug tightened a little more. "I was so afraid you were gone forever. I don't know what happens to humans when they pass away, but I was afraid I would walk out the door and see a pile of human ash on the ground."
"Don't strangle the poor thing bro. She's had a rough day." Papyrus suddenly realized that he was indeed slowly strangling you, and practically dropped you.
"I am truly sorry dear Human! I did not realize my immense strength was causing you harm!"
"Don't worry about it Papyrus. I… I've missed you too buddy."
"BUDDY? SANS THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE! I HAVE A BUDDY!" You chuckle at his enthusiasm and turn to Sans. His smile was softer, like a mother watching their child playing after a long day.
"Glad to have you back kid…"
"Glad to be back Sans."
I can't believe the feedback I've gotten for this! Thank you guys so much for reading and supporting me with this. I have a few ideas, and some lovely reviews have given me some more. I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write, nor can I even estimate how many chapters there will be in the end.
I can guarantee at least three or four more, minimum. There's been a few requests, plus variations of the self harm issue and the body image issues.
For anyone going through problems like these, I truly am sorry. No one should go through this, ever. Especially not alone. If anyone, and I mean ANYONE, feels like they are alone in their problems, please talk to me, or anyone.
I know what happens when someone offers support like this. They usually get ignored, but I know first hand what it's like to have no one to talk to and have all those awful thoughts swirling though your head. So please, if you want to talk to rant of whatever, send me a message. I will respond ASAP and try to help you through it. I've been through most things, so I can help with just about anything.
Thank you everyone for giving me such amazing support and love. It's really helped me stay on track with my recovery hoopla. You're all so amazing.
Until next time
~Starlight