Previously

We spend some more time talking about mostly meaningless topics until he realizes that he has to leave.

With no one to talk to, I'm alone.

A l o n e . . .

Now

It's been a week since then and it's Saturday. Honestly, I don't even know why I bothering keeping myself alive... Or how I even manage to get out of bed every day. But, alas, I do anyway.

I'm barely getting an hour of sleep with the nightmares and ghostly figures greeting me every time I fall out of consciousness.

Sometimes, I stay up all night and reread the notes I've received over and over. Each time, I pray that I've missed something or misread it. And each time, it's the same. This endless cycle continues until the sun pokes in through the window and snaps me out of my trance.

If Inverse wasn't staying up all night with me, she'll be up by sunrise. She starts the morning with a complaint about whatever, but I never really cared to listen. She then proceeds to deprecate me, in which this gets my attention. I try not to let her words get under my skin, but it's easier said than done.

If words could hurt physically, I would have dozens and dozens of wounds scattered across my body. There wouldn't be an inch of my body that doesn't have a scar covering it. Some may be fresh cuts and others would turn into ugly blemishes. Regardless, I'd look like I've just gotten out of a torture chamber.

I slowly make my way towards the bathroom and refuse to look in the mirror above the sink. I don't want to be reminded of how ugly I look. Coughing blood has escalated in throwing up blood. It's a miracle how I'm not dead from blood loss yet, considering how much and how often I vomit.

After the bathroom, I stumble downstairs, tightly gripping the handrails as to not fall down. Hurling always leaves me feeling dizzy and nauseous afterward. Not to mention that sleep deprivation heavily affects my distance perception.

When I manage to get into the kitchen without falling over for the umpteenth time, I've already lost my appetite from nausea. The thought of food makes my stomach churn and makes me want to gag.

I get out and find my way to the couch, collapsing on it. My muscles are aching from the lack of energy. My soul starts to squeeze tight and I would start gasping for air. My heart is desperately trying to pump blood and determination throughout my body.

I curl up into a ball from pain, emotionally and physically. Everything hurts so much and I don't have any idea what to do. I don't have control.

* * * * * *

I lay on the couch as a ball until around nine. At this time, I've cried out most of the tears I could cry out for the day and the physical pain has stopped. Mostly.

I slowly try to push myself off the couch and get up. I've already wasted three hours being absolutely useless.

A thought strikes my head, 'Why did I come down here again?'

I try and retrace my actions nothing comes to mind.

'Idiot.'

I stand back up and walk upstairs with a stagger.

'I should find a job...'

I flop down on my desk and start job hunting, browsing through dozens of ads and flyers.

* * * * * *

Another few hours fly by without much progress. The jobs that I've found are either I'm not qualified for or it overlaps with my school schedule.

I sigh in defeat and decide to try again after taking a small break. I stand up from my chair and stretch, my bones popping with every movement. I yawn from exhaustion but know that if I take a nap, I'll be stuck in some hellish nightmare.

I run my fingers through the ends of my hair and realize that they're all tangled up. I forgot to brush my hair this morning, didn't I? Oh.

The sound of a doorbell and the front door opening makes me jump.

"(Y/N)? Are you home?" Mr. Error's voice comes from downstairs.

I scramble to my closet and close the door, making sure to be quick and silent.

I can hear two pairs of feet walk up the stairs.

"(Y/N)?" Mr. Ink calls out.

My bedroom door creaks open. I hold my breath and put my hands over my mouth.

'Please don't find me. Please don't find me. Please don't find me.' I beg.

"Huh."

They leave the room and presumably make their way back downstairs. I continue to stay noiseless until I hear the front door shut and lock after a good ten minutes.

I practically fall out of the closet when I open its door and catch myself with my arms. I wipe the sweat from my forehead due to how stuffy it is in there.

With shaky arms, I get up with a tetter and head downstairs.

Nothing in the living room nor the living room seems out of place. Except for a small piece of paper laid on the dining table.

(Y/N),

We restocked the fridge. Make sure you're eating enough and taking care of yourself.

Support from Mr. Ink and Mr. Error

"Make sure you're eating enough," I softly repeat to myself, "Heh...oops."

I place the note back down and ignore the growling of my stomach, knowing that if I eat right now, I'll end up feeling extremely sick afterward.

But, hold on, I forgot to take my medication today again.

I grab my mug and fill it to the brim with water. I take my pill and chug down all the water before pouring myself a second cup and chugging that down too.

Water can suppress hunger and I know I'll feel full without having to actually eat, which is always a plus in my book.

* * * * * *

Five or six more hours go by with a combination of me going job hunting again, staring at the wall in front of me, or Inverse jabbering in my ear. My attempt, as expected, ends unsuccessfully.

I flip my laptop lid down just enough that the screen goes black but is not fully closed. My stomach complains from the lack of food, which reminds me to eat at least something. Wouldn't it be funny if I just starved to death? Haha.

I grab my phone from my nightstand and go downstairs, tripping on a few steps. Thankfully, I was holding onto the railings, or else something would've gone terribly wrong.

When I finally get to the kitchen, I pondered what I should eat for dinner. I anxiously open up the fridge, a bit scared that my temptations would take over.

My stomach rumbles loudly but I suddenly feel nauseous again. My legs are trembling and I grab onto the counter to keep myself from falling. Oh, geez, the room is spinning...

I stumble my way to the table and collapse into one of the chairs.

"I-Inverse...are you doing this..?"

'No.'

I stay there for a few minutes, almost falling off my chair a couple of times.

Thankfully, the nauseous subsided, but, now, I have no appetite.

I sigh and stand, falling almost immediately. Luckily, I catch myself with the table and stand back up, knees quaking.

I limp over to the cupboard and open a box of saltine crackers. It's something to eat when you have no appetite, right?

I grab around four or five crackers and put the box back in. I slowly crunch on the crackers and make my way to my room again, trying to steady my balance as I walk up the stairs.

* * * * * *

The next few hours consist of brooding, job hunting, munching on the crackers, and Inverse trash talking me.

She is pushing me so far, I don't know how much longer I have until I crack.

"C-Can you please...be quiet...?" I beg in a low whisper, "I can't think straight..."

'Oh, can you please be quiet?' she taunts me in a mocking tone, 'Ha! No.'

My frustration gets the better of me and I start to quietly weep.

'Awww look! (Y/N)'s gonna cry~'

"Will you shut it!?" I scream, quickly trying to wipe away the tears with the back of my hand.

'It's not that easy to make me be quiet. Plus, you keep me entertained.'

"W-Why me...?" I manage to croak out.

'Because I can!'

The time hits midnight.

'Awww looks like it's time for me to go!' She whines in a playful manner.

"G-Good. Go," I finish drying my face.

'I'll see you in the morning, partner!' And with that, she's gone.

A rush of relief washes over me the moment she disappears. Now, I must deal with the stillness around me.

Silence is no longer calming, it's more ominous. Since I moved to live alone, I've had a major fear of stillness. It reminds me of death and it has too much sadness associated with it.

I slide off my bed and feel around for my earbuds on my desk. It's dark and I can't see anything. A couple of moments of searching around, I find them and connect them to my laptop. Some music or even rain will do me some good. It doesn't really matter as long as I'm not sitting in silence.

I turn down the brightness of my laptop and stare at the bookshelf across my bed. I can just barely make out the silhouette of the silver urn in the moonlight.

"I need you guys..." I whimper desperately.

I want to squeeze my eyes shut and open them to reveal that everything was a nightmare. I don't want any of this to be real. Fake. All fake!

I slip out of bed again and head to the bathroom, switching on the lights and rummaging the cabinet behind the mirror. Before I can even comprehend my actions, I feel my fingers grip a thin, rectangular object. The object, my assumption is metal or steel, comes into contact with my arm. It's a bit cold.

"Ow! What is that!?" I wince in pain and look down at my arm. Some sticky, red liquid is running down my arm.

"..." I observe the tiny, steel object in my hand, "Razorblade...?"

'I know this isn't right but...some people say that cutting is a coping mechanism.'

I hold the razor to my arms again, slightly below the last cut I made.

'I'm going to try it again. This time, making sure I really feel it. Is that messed up? Maybe..."

In one swift motion, I make another cut on my arm.

'Crap...that burns! I should stop. I should stop.'

I put the razor down and observe my arm.

'But it feels so good...!'

I pick it up again and make one last cut on that arm.

'I feel freaking alive!'

I switch arms and make another wound there.

'Is this how I'm supposed to feel?'

Ow! That one stings more than the other!

'I should stop soon, shouldn't I?'

I make one last slice and put the razor down.

'Okay, that's done...! That's done.'

I wash my arms and the razor with soap to get the blood off. After the thorough wash, the bleeding has mostly stopped. I look through the mirror cabinet again for some petroleum jelly and rummage through the sink cabinet for a gauze bandage roll.

I treat my wounds with the jelly and bandages with a bit of pain every time I move my arm. It's my consequence for feeling alive during the actual process.

I put the items back in their place and return to my room.

It's around 1:30 in the morning.

I grab the letters on my desk and pop my earbuds back on.

'There must be something I'm missing!'

I go back into my endless cycle of reading and analyzing everything on the papers. Dr. Gaster would be proud of how hard I'm examining every word. If only my brain would work in school like it does now.

One hour passes by. Then two. Then three.

I feel myself slowly slipping away from the waking world. And before I know it, I'm knocked out cold from exhaustion.

* * * * * *

PJ's POV

I wake up, well, not really wake up. I'm still drifting in and out of it. I want to stay here forever, away from everyone else. It's more peaceful here than the noisiness of outside.

I move my arm to outstretch my arm to reach my phone before I stop myself. Why do my arms sting so badly?

I slowly and painfully grab my phone, turning on my flashlight. The room is almost completely dark due to the curtains I've drawn. I roll up my sleeves and shine my phone on my arm to see why it burns so badly.

I do a double-take on it and sit up in alarm.

'What the hell happened!?'

On both my arms are three thin, vertical cuts. The wounds don't look too bad; they're much like scars, but none the less, still worrying. At first glance, they don't seem very visible but, after a closer look, there is clearly some kind of injury there.

I know for a fact that this was not my doing. These scars look like they've been made on purpose and I would never intentionally hurt myself. I really can't think of any other reason why these injuries may be here.

I roll my sleeves back down and prop my pillow against the bed frame. I lean into it, hunching my back and forgetting about my phone.

'God, I miss her so much...'

If she was still here, she'd be sleeping peacefully next to me. She'd wake me up with the sweetest "good morning" ever. She'd give me a kiss on the cheek and help me get up.

But she is not. And she won't be.

"I-I can't d-deal with you r-right now..."

I was an idiot to try and push her that day. I got angry at Undyne and BP because I found out that they started picking fights again. Unfortunately, I ended up taking it out on her.

"Leave me alone!!"

I could hear the panic in her voice when I confronted her. But I was too blinded by rage and drama that I kept going.

"Take a-another step. I-I dare you."

I wouldn't blame her for using magic to defend herself. But I've never heard her voice ever get so threatening. Fear really is a dangerous emotion.

"D-Don't make me r-repeat myself."

And without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away. Regret started to immediately sink in at that point. I chose not to follow her or else one of us would end up getting seriously hurt, physically and emotionally.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

"Dad...?"

"PJ, how are you feeling?"

I chuckle hollowly, "Not great."

"Come on, you need to get up," he walks over to the window and opens the curtains, the light beaming into the room.

"Oh, Asgore, it's bright," I complain, shielding my eyes from the sun with my arm.

"Yes, it is. But you have to get up at some point. It's almost one in the afternoon."

"It's that late?" I turn on my phone to see that he's right, "Oh. Oops..."

"How about we take you and Cil somewhere today? We haven't had a family outing in a while and you need a good distraction."

Without even thinking, I instantly answer, "No, I don't really want to..."

"Why not? You need to get some fresh air and not be so cooped up in your room all day."

"I just..."

'There's really no valid excuse, is there?'

"Don't feel like going out..."

He seems to ponder for a moment before sighing, "You have to get up at some point, you know?"

"Hmm..."

"Promise you'll go out next week?"

"I..."

"Yes or no?"

"Fine, promise," I reluctantly give in.

'Well, dammit. I just made a promise I have to keep.'

"Good. Even if you're staying home, please don't lock yourself in your room all day," he stops himself just before the doorway, "And lunch is downstairs, so come down when you're ready."

He exits the room, leaving the door open for me later.

"What am I going to do without you, (Y/N)?"

~A/N~
Please, if anyone has the same mentality as (Y/N), I urge you to seek help
It is NO WAY healthy for you physically or mentally
Cutting is NOT a joke and NEEDS to be taken seriously
If you are grieving, DO NOT use self-destructive methods to cope
They will NOT help you and will only make it worse for you in the long run

So please, please, please talk to someone about your problems

Word count: 2837 words (including A/N

*nopes out*