Before the Storm ( Sans x Reader )

4. Heartaches and Heartburn

It turns out that eating a poisoned hot dog can leave you with some pretty nasty heartburn. You realised this as you woke once more back in your cell, eyes trained upon the green tiled roof that you had begun to hate, the way that the cracks in the walls no longer resembled tiny fractures of hope but rather glimpses into a life that you could not have, a life outside these walls that you craved for so desperately and yet could never have.

You looked over to your right to see the two empty piles of sheets on the ground, signifying that neither Sans nor Papyrus had returned from whatever the scientist was doing to them. Maybe it's better that way, you thought grimly as you remembered Papyrus' lifeless form sprawled across the cold, metal table, barely any indication that he was still alive. Perhaps it is best to die and leave this hell behind to whatever afterlife awaits us. They are the lucky ones then, the ones who can get a shortcut while I have to be dragged through the mud.

Your bout of self-pity came to an end as you recounted the scientist slamming Sans into the ground, the way that the cracks had snaked across the skeleton's skull, the same type of cracks that were on the walls of the green tile, the cracks that had once given you hope and now had become your adversary. You did not think that you wanted these two skeletons to die. Unlike the others that had come before them, you had allowed yourself to open up to these two, embrace them unlike the countless other experiments that had withered into dust.

Sans and Papyrus had lasted longer than anyone else had, the small fruitful hope that perhaps there were other creatures in existence that you could finally understand, finally connect with on a personal level because they had experienced the same pain and life that you had been going through for countless years. You remembered time after time again of skeletons shriveling into dust, skeletons and experiments whose names you could no longer remember because there had been so many. The pain of loss and grief had eventually dulled the initial shock, but now there was a flare of emotion inside you whenever you thought of these two skeletons and you were determined to make sure that unlike those before them, they would live.

You got to your feet and walked over to the machine that produced the laser beam that kept you confined to this prison. The damage that you had inflicted upon it was gone, no sign that anything had happened at all. It seemed strange that the scientist was capable of fixing such damage and yet could do nothing about the cracks in the tile, the way he seemed to ignore the biggest things that needed fixing in favour of something that didn't. The puzzle cube was also no where to be seen and that irritated you. Now there was nothing to do but stare at the wall, to delve its secrets that it was always trying to keep hidden.

As you moved back to the corner of the cell, a chorus of footsteps echoed down the hallway. You got to your feet and whirled around just in time to see the scientist typing a passcode into the wall and a second later, the laser vanished. "You will come with me," he ordered nonchalantly. "Do not attempt to use magic or any sort of resistance against me. You will not win as you learned last time and trying to do so again will result in more permanent damage to your companions. Is that understood?"

You swallowed your pride and forced a nod, not entirely sure what the scientist wanted or what he had done to the two skeletons that you had allowed into your defences, allowed yourself to grow attached to. You were not sure how you would react if you saw their dusted remains, their ashes that might coat the floor like a fine powder. You had already seen it so many times before with the dozens of test subjects, the experiments that were doomed to failure from the moment they awoke in this pitiful world.

"What happened to them?" You couldn't help but ask the scientist, not bothering to hide the venom and hatred that coated your words, embodied the hatred and resentment that had grown towards him as the years went by, torture after torture.