It Wasn't Me (Undertale) (Sans x Chara)

Ch. 1 - Down the Rabbit Hole

Chara's POV~

I fell to my family that day. I would be lying if I said I regretted it, but at the same time... I ensured my happiness while ruining theirs.

And I will never forgive myself for that.

Selfish, weak. Unloved. That's all I was. A demon. Who'd hurt the only people who cared about me because I thought I was invincible -⁠ thought I was strong enough to save them - but I was not the rumored angel.

They were. Frisk was the angel that would clear the Underground of people. And they did it.

In more ways than one.

I have to admit, out of all those people, Sans put up more of a fight than the rest. Undyne sure was determined, but Sans was driven by revenge, not perseverance, and so he managed to kill them 560 times. 560 relentless times.

Except. It was her body being killed, but not her soul. She forced the control onto me, every single time, and the pain cut through me like broken shards of glass. Zero times in the ruins. Twelve in Snowdin. 100 in Waterfall. Fifty-two in Hotland. Eighty-nine in The Core. And of course, 560 times in Judgement Hall.

The pain never went away. Each death was unique in its own way, but the pain was always the same. Like an earsplitting scream that can never escape. A bone snapped here, a flesh wound there. It was all the same. And Sans looked at their body, staring into my red eyes, my soul, and...

He noticed my pain. Loved it. Because he thought I was Frisk, maybe, or because he thought he was breaking whatever was controlling Frisk. But you can't break what's already shattered.

I was driven to insanity the moment I was born into the world. Dramatic as it sounds...

It lessened, the insanity, as time spent with my best friend and my parents went on. It increased again, when dad got sick because of me. Ebbed away once more. Resurfaced when I got Asriel killed. Then nothing after my own death.

Until I awoke to a youngster in a striped sweater, with short brown hair, and eyes as red as mine.

Since there was really no point on dwelling on the past, I felt nothing for a long time. They spared everyone in all the ways they could, and I admired them. An angel. I helped them, immensely grateful that a human would help my family.

Should've known that was too good to be true.

Insanity pursued and killed sanity, until I was left with nothing but a wry grin, killing habits, and buttercup poison in my veins. The 561st fight, Frisk forced me into her body, thinking she was about to take a final blow, and as Sans's bone soared towards me, I dodged it ever so slightly, only grazing my cheek. Before smiling. And finally hitting him back. One measly hit was all it took. He had 1 HP, after all.

And I took over from there. In a way, I'm glad Asriel killed Asgore so that I didn't have to. But then I killed him. Even in his flowery state, he acted like Asriel would. Innocent. Crying. Begging for mercy. And I refused him even that.

Of course, I don't regret killing Frisk.

The most satisfying kill, I have to admit. After all, this journal is about telling things honestly, the way they are. And I hope one day, I can prove that I'm not entirely responsible for the genocide route.