(I DID IT.

ARE YOU PROUD OF ME FOR DOING THE BARE MINIMUM?!?!?!!?)

*You wake up.

*You can't run.

*You can't hide.

*Your sins are crawling on your back.

*The sun is shining.

*. . .

*It's a beautiful day...

"AAAAAAAAA!" That goddamn dream again!"

"What's wrong, Frisk?!"

"Nothing, Ana. Nothing at all."

"Was it the dream again? Should I schedule another psychiatrist's appointment?"

"I'm fine Ana!"

"Okay, okay, I was just trying to help. Jesus." She had a hurt expression on her face. I felt awful, but she was angry now. She wouldn't listen.

"I'm sorry. You know how much I hate that place. And It's so expensive. You know we can't afford it much longer."

"Yeah. I guess so, but still. What's the dream about anyway?" She looked at me, wondering what could warrant such a reaction. Usually I was so quiet.

"It was about Chara..."

"Okay, that's it. We're making another appointment."

"I told you, I don't want you to spend unnecessary money on me!"

"Getting help for you is not unnecessary, Frisk." Ana said, obviously concerned "I know Mom and Dad would too." This made me start to cry.

"I miss them. Don't spend it on me. Please, Sis. I'm fine." I cried and cried. We had only lost them two years ago. "I'm going to my room." I say, sniffling.

"Okay, Fine, but I'm worried about you, Frisk. These dreams are concerning. Chara is gone. He was found dead by Mount. Ebott. It's concerning you dreaming of him all the time." Ana said with a worried expression on her face.

"I told you, I'm FINE!" I screamed, my vision blurring red for a moment. That had never happened before. Ana let a single tear roll down her cheek. She was an expert sympathy-getter, which was probably how she got a job in the first place. Our parents were knee-deep in debt when they died, leaving us with no inheritance and no way to live. Ana tried her best, but sometimes, her best wasn't enough. I slammed my door and flopped on my bed. Closing my eyes, I remembered my dream- Chara had fallen down a hole, a little goat, was it?-had helped him up. The goat ran to their mother who, like her son, was a goat. The mom picked up Chara's limp, broken body and carried him inside a castle. It flashed to a snowy village, Chara being alive, ran with the little goat, shouting "Azzy! Wait up!" and the little goat screaming "But I want you to meet my Best Friend! He loves puns!" With that they entered a lab, as the sign outside said. A little skeleton sat cross legged reading a book titled "Science Puns- Christmas Edition". He looked up, smiled and closed his book. A younger, but not by much, skeleton with white hair and goggles walked in, stumbling over a pile of snow. Chara's face flashed with jealousy.

"Your best friend?"

"Sorry, Chara. I didn't mean it. Not like that. I can have more than one friend though." The goat said.

He looked like he did when he ran away- a 12-year old with a crappy haircut he gave himself. Wherever he was, it must be happier than where me and Ana were.

That was stupid.

Goats don't talk, and skeletons only existed inside human bodies. Matter. That's all we are. There's no magic. At least that's what mom said and she was always right.

"Damn, I'm going crazy." I murmur, opening my eyes. On my bedside table, a picture of my family before it was just me and Ana. My Mom and Dad stood next to each other, me between them. Chara and Ana stood beside Mom and Dad. I missed them. All of them. Mom used to tuck me in and Dad said good night. Chara and Ana would play outside all day during the summer. I remembered how I was too young to play soccer or bike with them. Mom would take out a board game or a soft ball and play with me. Mom and Dad had been on a trip when they were killed. It was an accident, Ana said. She held me close and played with my hair. Chara had run away and fallen down a hole a year before, his body found in a field next to a cave wall. And then, we were alone. I missed Chara, but it was one less mouth to feed. If he were alive, Chara would be 15, 3 years younger than Ana, and 5 years older than me. Sometimes, it felt like he was talking to me, telling me things about how wonderful the underground was, trying to coax me in the same soothing voice he always used. Other times, he would be incredibly angry at me screaming at me to help him, for someone, please ANYONE to come keep him company. He sounded so helpless then, and when I told Ana, she took me to Dr. Santos a week later. And with that, we had another thing to add to the growing list of expenses that just kept piling up. I was just adding expenses, causing more worry. I was sick mentally and physically. I had always been weak. Maybe that's why Mom never let me join soccer or Why Dad went on every field trip I had. I was always so embarrassed to have them there, but I feel guilty for it now. I know I shouldn't, but there's always this impending sense of doom hanging over me, like something bad is just about to happen.

I fell asleep. My dreams were complex and hard to understand. There was a lot of metaphorical stuff going on, as Ana would say. I was on a building made of dirt, like in those tv shows about ancient civilizations, and it seemed to never end. I couldn't see to the bottom, and I had a terrible fear of heights. Considering my dreams were nothing but bad these days, I knew where this was going. But I just stood there, which was a shock. It felt so... Real, like It was a place in the real world. I could hear birds singing, and the sun was shining. A light breeze blew through my long hair. I could almost hear my mother's voice again. . .

"Frisk! Say cheese!"

"Cheddar!" I was so happy, I started to cry. But I couldn't stop. It filled up the building until the horizon was all water. I was drowning, sinking further and further down, drowning in my own tears.

I woke up, sweating. It was sunny. It had already been another day, and I was starving. I went downstairs and half heartedly apologized, ate my breakfast, and packed my backpack. I stepped out of the apartment building. I could see Mount Ebott on the horizon. It was beautiful, so it wasn't a surprise that so many children had gotten lost up there and never came back. I wish I could go there, but Ana needs me to keep her company because pets aren't allowed where we live.

I walked down our street, making sure no one was following me- again. I always felt like someone was watching me, maybe it was because of the dreams or maybe something was following me. I didn't honestly care if someone was. Who would want a scrawny, unhealthy, mentally ill child on their hands? No one, that's my point. I turned onto the main street of town, which was busy with kids, waiting for the bus. The smell of pastries was unbearable but I ignored my hunger for something sweet. A group of girls stopped talking as I walked up.

"Look, it's that girl, what's her name?" One of the said.

"Frisk, I think." Another one laughed.

"I heard she has no family, no parents." One said.

"I think her sister raises her." I tried to ignore their nasty, snide, ugly remarks.

"Orphan."

"Loser."

"Stupid bi-"

"I'M NOT A GIRL, DAMMIT!"

"Oooooh, so the weirdo thinks she's special does she?"

"Shut up, Diana!" Diana turned around to face Frisk. "If you're going to be jerk-faces to me, then at least use my preferred pronouns! I don't know what's WRONG with you people!" Frisk saw red again, literally. It wasn't a good feeling. They turned away, trying not to cry. Their mom had always said not to cry over spilled milk. Even if it was sour milk, don't cry over it. She was right. I guess.

"Frisk! Frisk! SHE'S so special!" They all sang. I wanted to punch them or worse. But I didn't. I got on the bus and ignored everyone. My book's fell out of my bag. I sighed and picked up my math book. I had forgotten to do my homework over the weekend because of my dreams. I did a couple math problems, ignoring the chants and despairing over fraction division. The chanting only got worse as the bus ride went on for another painstaking hour, but at least I got my homework done. I closed the book and got off the bus. I went to a K-8 school, and fifth graders were like the middle child of the school. Constantly ignored and left to do what they wish without consequence. It was the last year of freedom, as even 6th graders were expected to be role models. "Freedom" wasn't the word I would have used, as only some of us had it. The popular people could do anything and like anything they want while the outcasts were ridiculed for every movement they made. It was a terrible system, but a necessary one, according to that book on societal structures I read. I walked into my classroom, placed my bag on a hook, and walked to my seat on the edge of the class. It was perfect, being near a window and away from other people. I pulled out a book and was lost in the pages...

Today, I was in wonderland, and Alice was just as confused as I was. She chased the white rabbit through the twisted woods and met insane hatters and two round twins. A turtle greeted her on the beach, and...

"Class is starting, Miss Santos!" Ugh. Meet the world's most annoying teacher, Mr. White. He was a racist and sexist jerk who everyone either hated or hated a lot. Nobody knew how he had been hired, but the rumor was that he was the principal's nephew. Nobody would be surprised if he was, as the principal was ancient. Apparently she went crazy a while ago and thinks monsters are real. Nobody particularly blamed her. She fought in a war when she was younger, and being around children was the only thing that gave her happiness,Which is kinda creepy or Kinda sad. I dunno... If only this day would go faster. I looked out the window at Mount Ebott and sighed.

And so began the last day of school.