VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 141

Upon returning, she was quick to be encountered by the now familiar face of Leah, who was all too happy to direct her to the third floor, room 306. So that's where Frisk headed, riding the elevator up a couple of floors and making it to the designated room.

Upon opening it, she was greeted with a different tone from the rooms she and Terrence had occupied separately. This one had the blinds drawn down on the shady side of the building, giving the room a rather closed-off and dark vibe. A total opposite from Terrence's room. Gregory was seated in a chair, hands resting on the arms of it, staring forward with a dull expression. Karen Favian, or whatever her last name had returned to after the divorce, was lying on her bed, quite clearly unconscious.

"Hey," Frisk greeted.

"Hey," was the response she got as Greg didn't even look toward her, appearing ensnared in his own thoughts. Although the atmosphere was gloomy and Gregory's response didn't leave much room for conversation, Frisk didn't blame him at all. Greg had always preferred to be alone with his thoughts whenever he wasn't among friends, and considering school had been closed for the last few weeks, and presumably would be for some time following everything . . . it was unlikely Greg had much to do outside of the hospital.

"How is she?" Frisk asked. Obviously, she wasn't awake, but Frisk was hopeful that the woman would regain consciousness soon.

"Don't know," was Gregory's once again simple reply, no change in facial expression or tone. He didn't even sound particularly upset, just . . . distant.

"And how are you?" Frisk pressed, closing the door behind her. He finally blinked at this, though his eyes didn't so much as twitch in her direction.

"I'll live."

"I know this is rough, but you need to be strong, Greg," the girl stated, walking toward him. "There's people who care about you-"

"Like Sadie?" his voice was completely level as he finally turned his head to look at her. "I see how she still looks at me. Ready to pin all the blame on me. Maybe I am to blame but I've only ever done what I could . . . and people got hurt because of it."

"Greg, don't take that personally," Frisk shook her head. "You're smarter than that. She's just . . . confused, and she's hurting. Her mom . . . well, you know what happened."

"Yeah. Still, though. It makes me think about what I could have done differently. And then I keep thinking that I handled the situation as best I could in the moment."

"Yeah? That's cruddy, isn't it?" Frisk could sympathize with him, having felt this way often in the past, and sometimes in the present. Looking back at your actions, knowing you did your best, but always overanalyzing what could have been better.

"It could be worse. I have plenty of time to think lately," Greg slowly moved his head back to its original position. "Do you think Sadie will ever look at me normally again?"

"Some people . . . can't," Frisk admitted. "Not unless they forget."

"Fat chance then," Greg replied, voice still melancholy.

"But there are more that can," the girl added, reflecting back on Asgore and how he handled the knowledge of the timelines. How he'd thrown it all away by simply accepting who Frisk was in the present—and not anywhere else. Gregory closed his eyes, sighing inwardly.

"I need to train," he stated. "To understand how to use my SOUL. Otherwise I'm useless."

"You're not-"

"I am," the boy asserted firmly. "There's a reason Krashna was so interested in having me as his protégé, right? For my potential, I was told. When Terrence couldn't make a difference, he learned how to use his SOUL. So when I learn how to use mine?" He paused, glancing toward his mother as he opened his eyes. "Nobody will ever hurt me, or my family again. Ever," those sounded like dangerous words, from a certain point of view. From a certain . . . place of experience.