How the Innocent are Twisted

"It's me, Chara." | "I'll be your best friend" | "Forever"


3. Welcome to Being Manipulated into Killing Innocent Creatures

“C'mon over here.” I say, motioning towards a room in the north. Poking their head up from the leaves, Frisk leaves behind the glowing SAVE point and dutifully follows me into the room.

“What is this?” they whisper in wonder, gazing at the large bowl of brightly colored items. They squint at the small words engraved in the front of the pedestal. “...Take one.”

“Well? Do you want to take one or not?” I ask.

They hesitate, their fingers trembling over the bowl for a minute, before taking a piece and shoving into the pocket of their pants.

I float behind the pedestal so that I can stare at them. “Why not take another one?”

Their eyes widen slightly. “I mean, I already took one. Shouldn't I leave it here for someone else?”

“Who else is gonna take it?” I scoff.

They gulp, and they quickly lash out and take a second one. The bowl wobbles slightly.

I laugh. “C'mon, one more. No one's gonna miss it if you take another one.”

“Yeah,” they agree. “Who'd miss it if I just took a few more pieces...”

Their hand flies out again, too quick. The bowl tips over, the candy flinging out of the bowl and landing in the water to the side. Frisk is left with a single piece of candy in their hand. It's covered in a bright red wrapper.

I shrug. “Oh well. That was a lot of candy to take, anyways,” I giggle. “Why would you need that much candy anyways? You'll make yourself sick.”

“I- well- uh-” they splutter, their face turning a bright scarlet. They walk out of the room, and I can hear the candy wrappers crinkling in their pockets.

“Ribbit, ribbit (Human, do you wish to come play in the leaves with me?),” A Froggit hops up, gently nudging its knee into their shoulder. Frisk jumps, swiping the pointed stick at it. A large gash appears in its side. Startled, the Froggit summons a wave of flies that quickly surrounds Frisk. A few bit their shoulder, and they gasped in pain as it sucked their HP away.

“Bad frog!” they yell, stabbing it in the chest with the stick, the sharp end digging all the way through. The frog exhales slightly, and was a pile of dust. A small number of coins spill on the ground, which they slowly scoop up and put into another one of their pockets.

“Wow,” I say, laughing. “You really are bad at dodging, huh?”

They frown, and rub at the bug bites on their arms. Red bumps are beginning to show, and Frisk itches them.

“Maybe we need to work on that,” I giggle. “Hey, look!” I point to where a Froggit sits. It stares at us with wide, frightened eyes. It shakes, too scared to move.

“Ribbit, ribbit (You just killed him...)...” it says quietly.

Frisk tilts their head. “But... he surprised me,” they say. “And then he hurt me. So I... I mean, it was an accident.” They swipe at the Froggit, but it jumps out of their way.

Frisk gulps as a horde of flies appears behind Froggit, zooming towards them. “I'm sorry,” they say meekly. But the flies still hit them anyways, and their HP is nearly gone.

“You can do it,” I encourage them, softly. “Look what it did to you. You don't want to die, right?”

Frisk shakes their head determinedly. “No,” they say loudly, before thrusting the stick into the Froggit's stomach. It freezes, crumbling to a pile of dust and a few coins.

We traverse through the rooms. Froggits crawl out to us, croaking. Piles of dust are all that remains behind us. A small fly flitters up to us, wings fluttering haphazardly like it's struggling to stay afloat.

“This thing... it won't hurt us, right?”

I glare at the creature out of the corner of my eye, my face filled with fake fear. “That thing? It looks weak, but it's a lot stronger than you'd think.”

The thing, the Whimsum, trembles. The wings stop fluttering for a moment, and it begins to plunge to the ground before it shakily pulls itself back up.

Frisk, without saying a word, plunges the stick directly into the Whimsum's head. Tears form in its eyes, but then there's only a pile of dust floating to the ground.

Their phone rings. Frisk doesn't answer, but we hear the answering machine go off.

Child, I do not know why you are not answering your phone. Are you alright? Are you hurt? I feel as if I may need to come and get you.”

Frisk snatches up the phone. “Hello!” they say cheerily, scooping up the dust from the ground.

“Oh! Goodness, child, you are alive!” Toriel's loud voice crackles through the speaker. “I was wondering if you had gotten hurt.”

Frisk doesn't respond for a minute. “I'm fine,” they say shortly.

“Good, good. That is good,” Toriel says. “I was... wondering. Have you been... how shall I say... hurting anything? Like perhaps the good citizens that live here?”

Frisk turns to me, a question on their face. Quickly I shake my head.

“No,” they say.

Toriel doesn't say anything for a bit. “...I see. Well, okay. I was wondering which you would prefer. Cinnamon? Or butterscotch?”

Memories strike me, but I push them away, turning to Frisk with a blank expression.

“I don't know,” they say. “Whatever you have.”

Toriel agrees, and the conversation is over.

The room takes on a somber tone. We walk through rooms again and again. Frisk looks to practice their dodging skills, and I watch as their LOVE goes up.

Eventually, we pass into a room. There's a table, and some cheese stuck to it. The cheese is a yellowish green, and smells strange. It's deformed, half melted into the table.

Frisk turns, and we spy a mouse hole. It's empty.

“Here,” I say gently, pointing to a glowing yellow star by the wall. “You must be very tired. You did amazing at dodging today!” Out of habit, a memory from the past, I reach out to touch their shoulder. I immediately flinch, expecting my hand to pass through. But, though it is still transparent, my hand rests on their shoulder.

Frisk touches the star, and they SAVE.

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