Broken Souls [rewrite]

Chapter 3

I'm not dead!! :^)
I'm still kickin and I will see this story through. So yeah! I hope you enjoy chapter 3. If you see typos, please comment on them!

Before he could really process it, he was being pulled towards and onto the ferry by his chain, and the ferry was moving towards Hotland. Papyrus's eyes widened as he realized that Sans was taking him to Toriel. As they stepped off the boat, his master kicked his feet out from under him. He collapsed and quickly forced himself up onto his hands and knees. Sans started to walk again, and Papyrus started to push himself to his feet in order to follow, but Sans pulled on his chain, yanking him back to his knees.

"You will crawl. You are not good enough to walk like a free monster," he growled at him, continuing to walk.

Papyrus bit back a whimper, and, shame filling him, crawled as fast as he could after his master. It was humiliating, even though he knew it was a common practice for slaves like him. He knew no one would stare at him or take notice, but he still didn't want anyone to see. He wanted to turn invisible, or be anywhere else. After what felt like an eternity of moving after Sans on his hands and knees, they were in the throne room. Papyrus's knees hurt from crawling, but he stayed silent.

"Mutt. Tell the Queen what you've done."

Papyrus flinched. He hadn't expected to have to tell her himself. Apparently, his hesitation lasted too long, because he felt a blow come into contact with the top of his skull.

"NOW."

Papyrus made no noise at the hit. He lowered his head more than it already had been and closed his eyes tightly. His voice trembled and cracked as he spoke.

"I-i k.... I k-killed Alphys..."

There were a few moments of deafening silence. Then the temperature in the room rose a few degrees, and he heard the Queen stand up. He heard footsteps, and then suddenly he felt something hard hit his ribs, knocking him over and leaving him splayed out on the floor.

She stepped hard on his rib cage and glared down at him. "I knew your master should have gotten rid of you. Tell me what happened. In detail." She was shaking with rage.

Papyrus avoided her fiery eyes. "M-my master and I-i were at A-alphys' house to t-talk to her... sh-she attacked h-him...
I-i took a sword from the wall a-and killed her with it...
I-i just wanted to p-protect-"

"It was my fight. I did not tell him to intervene. He did this of his own accord." Sans was watching, arms crossed. Papyrus glanced at him and knew he wasn't going to get any help.

"You will be punished for this, Slave. Sans. When we are done here you will chain him up. You will torture him. Make him wish he was dead, and do not feed him. Do not give him a moment of peace between now and when he dusts from starvation."

Sans nodded, shooting a hateful glare at Papyrus. "Of course, my queen."

Papyrus closed his eyes so as to not meet his master's gaze, but they fluttered open when he was grabbed by the neck and pulled roughly up. He looked down to see Toriel holding him up, squeezing his neck tightly. He choked, his magic flow to his skull cut off. He struggled half-heartedly, but knew he wouldn't be getting out of his. A blazing, fiery pain began in his neck, scorching him. It began to sear through the rest of his body. He screamed, but it was more of a pained gargle with the hand still clamped around his cervical vertebrae.

He felt like he was burning from the inside out, and as if fire was licking at his bones. He felt the wetness of tears in his eyes, but they didn't stay long due to the heat. He didn't think it could be any worse, but he was wrong. His whole body was alight with pain, but that burning was completely dwarfed by the feeling that was now encompassing his very soul. He screamed - this time a real, blood-curdling scream - and began to writhe in her grip, seeing with shaky, blurry vision that his soul was clenched tightly in Toriel's free hand. The horrible pain continued for what felt like an eternity, until he was dropped unceremoniously onto the hard floor. He curled up tight, his bones literally smoking.