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

Ch. 9 - What the Hell~

(A/N: TW - Self harm)

3rd POV~

The blood, thick, with a metallic tang, enters the air, red, though one could have presumed it to be pitch black, as the girl clutching the pocket knife was also presumed to be a demon.

Her family had been the only ones to tell her otherwise, and now... They wanted nothing to do with her.

So she brandished her knife, a pen in disguise, dipping it in the ink of her veins.

You'd have to be stupid to cut on the wrists, an attention-seeker, and a not-suicidal, depressed lunatic, she thought. Which was on the contrary for our young heroine. Her target was her upper legs, scarred enough already from years of wear and tear... and some outside help.

She sucked the air in through her teeth, trying to keep from breathing heavily. There were others in the house. But they never heard her before, the walls too thick and her voice convoluted and a meaningless cacophony. Her voice only carried ever so slightly past her door and into the downstairs vicinity. But no one had confronted her on her behavior.

It had always been this way.

The blood continued to run, dripping onto her floor. She quickly lapped up the remaining drops from her leg, with her tongue, insanely enough. It rubbed her fresh wounds and stinged in such a way that she couldn't help but wince.
Don't focus on the past; focus on the exhilarating pain, the freedom of this choice.

And she did, her mind distracted by it. Keeping her attention focused solely on it, and not even a glance was spared anywhere else. Not even towards the door.

♡♡♡

Sans was asleep downstairs, as always. Lazing on the couch in the daytime, it only made sense he'd be stuck to it like glue during night. He seldom slept in his own room, on his own mattress. He'd always been able to hear the crying, the hysterical laughing, the sharp and pained breathing... But his subconscious mind had brushed it off as part of his nightmare, nothing more.

But this night, when he miraculously experienced a pleasant dream - one in which he lived happily with his brother, regardless of those around them - he was jolted awake by heavy, hurt breathing. "Papyrus..." But the noise was not coming from his brother's room. Instead, it surfaced from Chara's room, and while no light leaked from beneath her door, it was quite clear that she was doing something, as crying and/or having a panic attack led to different sounds. He peered curiously over the railing that lined the upstairs, and strained his neck past the incline to see that there was indeed a little light coming through her room, a natural source. She'd opened her curtains and let the moonlight in. Sans could only assume she was looking for something, changing, staying up late working on schoolwork. But when he floated himself above the railing, treading lightly on the overhang, as he peered into the room, adjusting the door to be open just a sliver. He saw her, grasping a knife and staring intently at her thighs. Red marks lined them, and Sans felt the urge to gag, as the sweet and sickly iron smell hit him. Why was she hurting herself?
She seemed to be off in her own world, crazed eyes that dilated and contracted as she made another wound. He pushed in, grabbing desperately at the knife and confiscating it. "Kid... Buttercup, are you insane?!"

Chara appeared startled, if only for a second. Then she calmed, and looked up at him with her deep red eyes. "Sansy~ Give it back~" She smiled with malicious intent, before making a grab at her possession. Asriel had given her that... Her creepy smile widened at this thought.

Sans held her down with his powers, trying endlessly to placate her. "Kid, you can't just hurt yourself and expect everyone to root for ya... Please, Buttercup." He looked at her with pleading eyes.

She replied with a snarl, then broke free of his telekinesis and made a lunge for her pocket knife. She succeeded in the sense that she had managed to get her knife back and had pinned him down, the flat side of the knife laying on his ulna. "I think you've forgotten our time together in judgement hall, Sans. Do you need a reminder?"

"No- J-Jesus, get offa me-" He made an attempt to use magic, grab her soul, and force her off...

But it refused. Not even Frisk's determination amounted to this ability, and Sans knew it. His eyes widened.

But she stood, steadily, before moving so that he had room to get up himself. He scrambled to his feet, genuinely scared. She sighed, then gestured for him to get the fuck out. He did, with barely a glance back.

She just needs some time, he told himself. He really didn't like that smile... It reminded him too much of the smile Frisk had... He should ask her about these things tomorrow. So much trauma has already happened to the both of them, and they should learn to sort the issues out before they decided to get closer.