Some Angsty Writing,,

Freedom.

WARNING!
Suicide
And Angst.
Duh.

Killer looked around his room, focusing on all of the pictures he had of the gang.. they were all happy.. smiling.. laughing.. pissing off Nightmare..
Those were the good times..

He missed those times. Where did they go..? Where did the people he cared about go..? Where did the people he'd always seen so happy go?!

Everything was so serious now.. they never had fun anymore.. Killer got in trouble for doing things he used to do with no problems.. everything was so rough, now..
At least he had memories. He had memories stuck in his mind forever.
He could stay up all night looking at one picture and laughing about how much fun they had..

He looked out of his window, his smile growing a bit..
He giggled quietly, suddenly remembering that one time he was playing with his knife, and accidentally stabbed his own hand. He remembered how everyone actually had cared back then..
He could've lived in those memories forever..

Emphasis on could've.

Killer hated how hard everything was, now..
Chara called him out for everything he did wrong..
Frisk laughed at him everytime he cried..
The worst ghosts he could've ever had as friends.

He felt like everyone hated him.. like everyone wanted to hurt him..
Tears filled his eyes.. the happy memories were quickly replaced with bad ones..
He began to cry quietly..

Frisk and Chara both tried to get him to stop what he was doing. But he pretended as if they did not exist. Because soon, they wouldn't. And neither would he.

Killer whimpered, tightening the rope around his neck, his breathing quickening..
He didn't want to do this..
But all he wanted was to be free..
He felt selfish for feeling so bad for himself.

But he'd do anything if it meant making his friends happy..
And by anything..
I mean anything.

Killer looked at the two ghosts.
He gave a small, sweet smile, before pulling out his knife and throwing it at the stool he was just barely standing on.

The stool got knocked out from under him..
And suddenly- a wave of regret came over him.
He started to gasp for air..
No.. no no no no! He didn't want this anymore! It hurt.. oh god, it hurt so bad..
Killer began to scratch at the rope, attempting to breathe, but without much luck..
His hands began to bleed..
He tried to scream for help.. but due to the lack of air, he could not do anything..

Blood dripped off of his hands, and they dropped to his side, any form of life disappeared..

The door to his room creaked open, and Cross walked in.
"Killer, Nightmare needs you t--"
Cross stared at Killer, his eyes widening.. he covered his mouth, dropping whatever he had been holding..
This had to be a joke.. this wasn't real life, right?! This CAN'T BE REAL!
Cross tried to convince himself he was dreaming. He fell to the ground, his body shaking..

Before he knew it, he was sobbing, gasping for air just like Killer had been doing.. except he was doing it because he was crying so much he could barely breathe..

Cross looked around the room.. although his vision was blurry.. he managed to make out all of the pictures in the room..
He remembered..
He remembered how happy Killer looked back then..

And he realized..
This was their fault.
This was everyone's fault..
Cross put a hand on his own chest, trying to calm himself down..

Cross shakily stood up, and slowly walked over to Killer's lifeless body..

God he hated this so much.. it made his chest hurt just looking at Killer..
He couldn't believe.. that the gang had driven him to this..
He couldn't believe he had HELPED drive him to this..
He didn't want to believe it was partially his fault that this happened..
He slowly reached his hand up, and put a hand on Killer's cheek..
Cold..
His body felt cold, and dead..

And finally, Cross knew this wasn't a dream..
He knew this wasn't just his imagination going insane..
He knew he wasnt hallucinating..
He friend was truly dead..
Everyone Killer had put his trust in did this to him.. they all hurt him, even when they never meant to..

Why didn't they see it before..?
Why didn't they realize this..?
Why didn't they care for the small one..?
Why didn't they even try to make it better?
Why didn't they care to even check on him..
Why didn't they give him a break..?
Why didn't they try to go back to the old days..
Why..
Didn't..
They..
Help..
Him..?

This was so unfair to Killer..
And Cross knew that..
Cross heard the rope make quiet noises that broke the deafening silence..

Cross hesitantly cut the rope, and hugged Killer's dead body as tight as he could, going back to sobbing until he couldn't breathe..

"I-I'm so sorry.."
He hiccuped, whispering apologies to what was once his friend, but was now nothing. No one. And nobody..

This was the end..

This was the end of his dear friend..

Killer had died..

Because of his own sadness..

That everyone had shoved onto him..

This was everyone's fault..

How could they..?
How could they have done this?!
WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO HIM?!
Why did they hurt the small skeleton until he gave up..?

...
He had.. given up.
He had been trying for so long..
To stay happy and positive..
But he had given up..
He had given up trying..
He had given up everything..

Just to be free..

And now..

Where he is now..

He will experience true freedom.

The End