Your Perspective

You sigh and collapse on your bed, the events of the day leaving you both emotionally and physically drained. The moment you had gotten back to Sans' house, Papyrus had dragged you back out again to help him "recalibrate his puzzles." In other words, you had to complete every single puzzle between Snowdin and the ruins.

Now, that in itself didn't seem like a terribly hard task. And it wouldn't have been... if you had only needed to solve them once. Papyrus never seemed to be entirely happy with their difficultly level, and he had to make them just a little bit harder every time you successfully passed through. It was tedious work, and you'd eventually started to fake being stumped just to satisfy him.

Sans and Frisk had tagged along, of course, but they'd been content to let you do all the dirty work, sitting on the sidelines and egging Papyrus on. Some friends. You can't help but groan as you remember the smirk that'd been on Sans' face as he watched you struggle, a pun always ready on his lips. (Er... teeth? Whatever.) The point is, it had been infuriating. Never in your life have you been so glad to get home.

It may have been tiring, you think, but it's nice to have friends again.

It's been a long time since you've talked to anyone besides Frisk, and it's been ages since you'd last had someone you could genuinely call a friend. Your last attempt at friendship... well, it hadn't exactly ended well.

And moving away from the city didn't help, you think, an enormous yawn escaping you. It pretty much killed any chance I had of a social life.

You cringe, deeply regretting your inner monologue's choice of words.

Why does everything in my life seem to revolve around some kind of killing?

Before you can come up with an answer, your eyelids gradually grow heavier, and the world slowly starts to fade away as sleep finally overtakes you.

***

The next time you open your eyes, you find yourself in the middle of an endless expanse of... emptiness. There seems to be some kind of invisible ground beneath your feet, but beyond that, there's absolutely nothing here. No matter where you look, no matter where you turn... all you find is an unending, all-consuming, blackness.

Wh-where am I? you ask yourself shakily. What is this place?

If you had to identify the place, you'd call it a void... but that doesn't make very much sense. Voids aren't exactly things that exist naturally. And besides, weren't you just in bed a Toriel's? How did you even get here? You find yourself crossing your arms, the pressure of your own grip somehow comforting amidst the uncertainty of your current situation.

This... this place has to end somewhere, right? you ask yourself, trying to think logically. Nothing goes on forever.

As you see it, you only have two options open to you: you can stay here, or you can move forward. With a sigh, you pick the latter, taking your first few uncertain steps into the void. At least this way, you'll be more likely to find an exit... if there is one.

After what seems like hours of walking, a shiver slowly makes its way up your spine as some primal instinct tells you that you're not alone. You falter in your path for a moment, fear starting to take root in you. Someone else is here... and they are very, very interested in you.

As if confirming your thought, a child's laugh echoes throughout the void. Never before has a sound exuded so much bloodlust... or filled you with so much terror. Your breath catches in your throat as you break into a run, your feet pounding almost painfully against whatever invisible ground is beneath them. You have to get away. You don't know why, but your instincts tell you that you have to get away.

A dark chuckle resounds from everywhere and nowhere, as though its owner finds your actions entertaining, but completely pointless. You can't help but agree—it's not as if there's anywhere you can run to. That doesn't keep you from trying, though. You sprint as fast as you can through the darkness, arms pumping and breath coming in gasps as you struggle to escape the mysterious presence that hunts you.

Suddenly, your foot catches on something unseen to you and you go flying, sliding several feet along the ground before reaching a painful stop. Your heart beats erratically in your chest as you move to push yourself up, desperate to get to your feet before the owner of the voice catches up to you. Before you can raise yourself so much as five inches, however, you find yourself confronted by a pair of translucent, brown boot-clad feet. You go rigid, and slowly look up.

Standing over you is a slowly shifting, ghost-like figure. It seems to be a young girl, about the same age and height as Frisk. She has a similar sense of style as Frisk, too—she's wearing jean shorts and a green-and-yellow striped sweater. However, that's where the similarities between the two end. The girl's blood-red eyes are full of malice as she stares down at you, and her broad smile gives her an unsettling air of insanity. You've never seen her before. You're sure of it. Yet, at the same time... something about her is almost... familiar.

"Well hello, (Y/N)," she says, methodically turning a recently sharpened knife in her hands. "What a small world it is—fancy meeting you again."

Your body shakes uncontrollably as you frantically scoot away from the figure. That voice... you know that voice.

B-but that's impossible, you think frantically. She... she isn't... she doesn't look like...

The girl giggles at your terror, her smile growing wide enough to almost split her face in two.

"Aww... (Y/N), don't you recognize me?" she purrs, taking a lazy step forward. She runs the sharpened edge of the knife against her thumb, testing its sharpness.

No. No, nononononono.

You manage to stagger to your feet, and waste no time in sprinting away from the girl at top speed. Before you can make any significant distance, the girl appears in the air in front of you, as though she'd teleported. You can't slow yourself down in time, and you scream as your momentum drives you straight into her outstretched knife.

"Is that how you greet an old friend, (Y/N)?" she asks, a fake pout making its way onto her face. "That's not very nice."

You scream again as she forces her knife out of your stomach. Your knees give out soon after, your body too weak to hold you upright anymore. Blood gushes from your wound, the red of it creating a splash of color in an otherwise black world. You whimper as she moves to stand over you again.

"Don't look so scared, (Y/N). I can't kill you here," she says lazily. "This is just a dream, after all."

She brings her knife up again, looking at your pathetically trembling form in its reflection.

"But that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun," she continues, smile making its way back onto her face. "Oh, but before you go, would you do me a teensy-tiny favor? Tell that sweet little brother of yours that Charlotte says 'hi.'"

No... no, it can't be...

The girl's form flickers, as though she were a candle in the wind. When she settles again, you're looking at a completely different person. Her previously short and shaggy light-brown hair is now blond and wavy, a red ribbon holding it away from her face as it spills past her shoulders. Her eyes are a leaf green color, and there's a spray of freckles across her nose. She's wearing a knee-length checkered dress, and her boots have turned into black pumps.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry—I nearly forgot," Charlotte giggles. "I killed him."

Unfathomable anger flashes through you, and you manage to stagger to your feet despite the stabbing pain that accompanies the action. You lunge at Charlotte with all of your remaining strength, but your movements are clumsy, and she easily step-sides you. You're unable to regain your balance and fall to the ground again, a weak gasp making its way from your lips.

"In that case, why not say 'hi' to your sister for me?" she asks as she saunters over to you. Her form changes again, until it's not Charlotte, but Frisk that's standing over you, knife in hand. "I'm sure she's getting lonely without me. Such a shame—I liked being in her head."

In her head? Then this... this must be...

"Ch-Chara?" you stammer.

"You catch on quick, (Y/N)," Chara says, beaming on you. "Yes, I'm Chara."

"But you... you sound like..."

"A traitorous old friend," she finishes for you, changing forms again to look like Charlotte. "Oh dear. Are you still confused? What a shame."

She teleports away, her voice echoing from behind you.

"This timeline is going to be very... interesting," she says. "I wonder... how long will it take before you snap?"

You turn to face her, barely taking in the sight of ruby red eyes before her knife bites into your throat. You gurgle in pain, your devastated vocal chords not allowing you so much as a whimper. You can feel yourself slowly slipping away, the black of the void gradually being replaced by the red of your own blood.

"Until we meet again, (Y/N)."

***

You wake in a cold sweat and sit bolt upright, your hands flying to your throat, then to your stomach. There's nothing there. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. It was just a dream.

But it had seemed so real... you think, remembering the sensation of Charlotte's knife embedded in your stomach.

You sigh, falling back onto your bed. You have a thousand questions that need answering, but you refuse to allow yourself to ask any of them. You haven't thought about Charlotte or your brother in years, and it was going to stay that way. You can't help but be relieved as the details of the dream start to fade away into uncertainty, and move to get up.

"Mmm!"

You turn to look across the room. You hadn't even noticed that Frisk was awake.

"What's up, Frisk?" you ask groggily as you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

"What do you want to do today?" she asks. "I haven't shown you waterfall yet. Oooh, I could introduce you to the warrior fish!"

"Sorry Frisk," you say, yawning. "I'm pooped. I honestly just want to hang out here for the day—maybe write a little."

"Aww... you're no fun," she signs. She hops out of bed and runs out of the room, before returning with your backpack.

"If we're staying home, can you at least let me borrow your laptop? I wanna show goat mom pictures from the surface," she signs.

"Who said I brought my laptop with me?" you ask, obediently unzipping the topmost compartment of your computer bag.

"Since when do you ever not have your laptop with you?" she points out.

"What, you think I'd even lug it up the mountain with me on a rescue mission?"

"Am I wrong?"

"No," you sigh. Your laptop is pretty much the single most important object you own. Leaving it at home just wasn't an option.

You reach into your backpack, but quickly withdraw your hand again with a shriek of surprise. You stare at your finger, and watch as a single droplet of blood lazily starts to make its way down your finger.

What? Oh, no.

Dread encompasses you as you stare down into your bag, and then carefully start to take out the broken shards of what used to be your laptop. Thinking back on it, it makes sense that it's broken—you'd landed on your backpack when you fell.

"Oh, no," Frisk echoes.

Your laptop was pretty much your entire life. Everything that's important to you was on it—your stories, all your college work, your passwords, some of your favorite video games, your anime collection... not to mention your Youtube and Quotev accounts. You feel no shame as you start to cry over your laptop like you would over a dead child.

My life... is officially over.

Frisk tries to comfort you, gently patting you on the back, the same way that you used to do for her when she was little.

"There, there," she signs. "It'll be okay."

You simply shake your head. Even if you had access to the human internet from down here, it would take you years to replace everything that you'd done.

"It looks like we're going somewhere after all," Frisk signs. You sniff, and start to wipe at your eyes.

"What?" you ask.

"I think I know someone that can fix your computer," Frisk signs. "I'm going to introduce you to the royal nerd."

Author's Note

Bet you didn't see that one coming. ;-) 

Anyway, I've been dangling information about your (as in the main character's) past by a string, haven't I? Well, I'm afraid this is all you get to learn for now. Don't worry, though. All will be revealed in good time. If anyone has any questions relating to what happened in this chapter, I may answer, so long as I don't give away too much information by doing so.

Oh, and for anyone that's confused: Yes, Charlotte and Chara are the same person. In the interest of keeping your backstory secret, all I'll say is that Chara possessed this girl named "Charlotte," just like she sometimes does to Frisk. Why and how will have to wait until later.

--Zana