TW: Suicide. Feel free to skip this chapter, you won't miss a thing. This will be mentioned later into the book, but very briefly from time to time.
Who knew that a trek to end your life would be so long? It was almost as if the walk to your death was trying to give you a moment to reflect back on your life and the good memories. But, the problem was, good memories were a rarity.
It started when Frisk was three-years old that their sister just disappeared into thin air. No one could find any traces of her anywhere, it was only because of the pictures that hung from the wall that they remembered this stranger.
"Who's that girl?" They would constantly ask, pointing to the one unidentified person in several of the pictures. There was one where they were all standing with beaming smiles in front of their house that stood out most. Their mother was cradling a child swathed in warm blankets, which was them as an infant, their father to the right of her and before them, a girl around the age of seven they had forgotten ever meeting. Unlike their mother and father whose skin was rather dark, their skin was as white as snow, their eyes an unnatural pinkish color, and hair as fluffy and delicate as a chocolate cloud.
"We don't talk about her." Their parents always replied, voices both carrying heavy weights of sadness and unattended grief. They suddenly hurled it off their shoulders, a now startling sense of anger taking over them. "It's none of your business, now get back to doing your homework." They were always so cruel after their sister left. It seemed as if they were still upset and tender about their disappearance, and the anger of her absence was taken out on them.
Up until the midst of junior high, school was a safe haven. There, they were surrounded by friendly faces who never got upset and lashed out if a mistake was made. They could read peacefully, play with friends, and relax without a worry. Going home never made poor Frisk feel as safe as they were at school. They always looked at their sudden shift in mood as a flower. At night and in early morning, they would close up into a bulb. But during the day, they blossomed and were open, exposing all their inner potential.
Yet, in the seventh-grade, everything took a sharp turn. The verbal abuse from their parents really got to them. They were growing more and more introverted. Their grades dropped along with their joy, they and their friends were slowly starting to drift apart. Home was never any better. The more withdrawn they grew, the more their parents' anger started to grow. They figured that since they weren't responding, they would need to be louder, more angrier to finally get a response out of them.
That still continued, even up until they left home. Frisk was in their final year of high school. Many had pressed for them to seek help, yet their parents ever denied there being anything wrong. School counseling was the best kind of help they could get, but that was never enough. They were stuck, and there was nothing they could do about it. And yet, Frisk managed to wriggle free and escape for a little while. And that wasn't a good thing, as their footsteps had stopped before the gaping mouth of a cave.
Stalactites drooped from the ceiling like the sharp canines of a vicious animal, making it look as if the mountain was going to devour them whole. After all, those who go to Mt. Ebott never return. They pursed their lips, posture straightening as they began to walk again. This was it. This was going to be the end. The cave itself was dark, cold, and quiet. Only the occasional drip of water would plummet to the rock below with a quiet plop into the puddle below it. It was most definitely an eerie place that made even the scary monsters under your bed look cute and cuddly.
Frisk had to watch their footing, steering clear of any cracks in the ground and stalagmites that stuck up like the hairs on the back of their neck. After what seemed like forever of blindly navigating their way around, they saw what seemed to be a small sliver of light. It's not like they were going back out on their plans after coming this far... They began to shuffle towards it, the sliver growing larger and larger with each slosh their feet made along the damp ground. As they stepped into the light, their eyes wandered. Before them was a gaping hole in the floor, vines slithering around stalagmites and into the hole itself. The ceiling was lower than the rest of the cave, the sharp rocks hanging even more closer to their head.
Frisk inhaled and exhaled, focusing on the edge of the hole. This was it. Their feet advanced slowly, as if the last few ounces of them wanted to go back home and forget about this whole thing. But going back home would only lead to more unnecessary tragedies waiting to happen. Their feet moves a bit faster this time. How deep was this hole? They wondered. As they were about to lean over the edge, their foot get caught in one of the vines. Just pull it out, they thought to themself, attempting to slip their ankle from the vine. It wasn't going to give in that easy, for it clung desperately to their ankle, begging for them to rethink their actions. They just wanted to see the depth, they mentally negotiated, pulling on their foot harder. The vines did give in, but so did the footing beneath them. Before they knew it, they were plummeting downwards, further and further into the dark abyss. This was it. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, holding their breath.
There goes everything.
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