Passive Hatred

SOUL problems

Nonononono 

This is -- what even is this

Alex's heart pounded as he stared at his SOUL, his breath quickening. This wasn't what it was supposed to look like—this wasn't how it was described in the books. Theirs were heart-shaped, pure and strong. His was... wrong. It was misshapen, pulsing with a dark energy he didn't understand.

"No, no, no... this isn't right," he whispered, his voice shaky. He could feel panic rising in his chest, his stomach twisting. What was wrong with him? Why didn't it look like it was supposed to?

He tried to focus, just like the books had said, willing it to change, to smooth out into something normal. But as soon as he concentrated, the dark tendrils around it stirred, writhing and curling in response to his panic. They were like shadows, creeping out from the edges of his SOUL, and the more he tried to control it, the more chaotic it became.

"Stop... stop!" he hissed, gripping his head in frustration. But it didn't stop. The tendrils seemed to grow stronger the more upset he got, twisting and curling as if feeding off his fear. His chest tightened, and his mind raced. Was this who he really was? Something broken? Something twisted?

"I don't understand!" Alex's voice cracked, trembling as he stared helplessly at the dark, chaotic shape before him. "Why is this happening to me?"

His legs felt weak, and he stumbled back, his thoughts spinning out of control. Was this some kind of punishment? Was he cursed? None of the books had mentioned anything like this, and the uncertainty clawed  at him, making his panic rise even higher.

Desperately, he tried to push the tendrils away, to force them back, but they didn't listen. They lashed out, wild and unyielding, like they had a mind of their own.

"Stop!" he yelled again, his voice hoarse. But nothing changed.

His breathing came in ragged gasps now. He didn't know what to do. Everything felt out of control. This wasn't what he had planned. He had just wanted to summon his SOUL, to learn, to train—but now he was staring at something that shouldnt be making react like this 

Why is he so afraid right now

"I can't... I can't fix this," Alex whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in his ears. The more he looked at his SOUL, the more hopeless he felt. What if he couldn't control it? What if this dark, twisted shape was who he really was?

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Timeskip

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Alex trudged through the snow-covered streets of Snowdin, his mood as bleak as the non-existent sky above him. His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, the hood pulled low over his face. He kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of the few monsters who passed by. His heart still pounded in his chest, the image of his twisted,  SOUL burned into his mind.

He felt cold, but it wasn't from the snow. It was the kind of cold that came from within, a growing sense of dread that made his insides twist. What was wrong with him? Why didn't his SOUL look like it was supposed to? Every time he thought about it, a fresh wave of anxiety hit him, and he hunched further into his hoodie, trying to disappear from the world around him.

The snow crunched under his boots, and he barely noticed where he was going. His mind was too full, spinning with questions and doubts. Was this some sort of sign? The way those tendrils had lashed out, uncontrolled, had scared him more than anything. What if he couldn't control them next time? What if they hurt someone?

"I can't stay like this," he muttered under his breath, glancing around nervously. The monsters here all seemed so carefree, so normal. They didn't have to worry about what inside them. They didn't have to hide their faces in their hoods, afraid of what others might see. But him? He couldn't let anyone see his SOUL like this. They'd know something was wrong with him. They'd be afraid.

The idea of being different, of being... wrong, weighed heavily on him. Every time a monster passed by with a casual wave or smile, he flinched, tightening his hood and walking faster. He couldn't risk anyone getting too close, couldn't risk them seeing the truth.

His breath was heavy in the cold air, clouds of mist escaping from his mouth with each exhale. He needed answers. He needed to understand why this was happening. But the more he thought about it, the more lost he felt.

The familiar sight of the glowing bar sign in the distance gave him some comfort. It wasn't much, but working part-time here kept him afloat—enough to buy food and pay for his stay at the inn. As he approached the door, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. He'd been doing this for a while now, but every time he stepped into the warm, fire-lit bar, he felt a little out of place. The cozy atmosphere, the quiet hum of conversations, the clinking of glasses—it was so different from the thoughts swirling in his head.

Pushing open the door, Alex felt the warmth of the room wash over him. Grillby, the ever-silent owner, gave him a nod from behind the bar. The other patrons barely glanced his way. Most of them were regulars, used to seeing the hooded figure darting between tables, taking orders and cleaning up. Alex liked it that way. He could blend into the background, unnoticed, just another face working to get paid then leave.

He headed to the back room to grab his apron, tying it on as he tried to focus on the tasks ahead. Maybe if he stayed busy enough, he wouldn't have to think about his soul, about the tendrils, or about the dangerous power lurking beneath the surface.

For now, this was his routine. Work, earn, survive. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming. And it was gunning for him.

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