Healing *Discontinued For Now*

Welcome to Underfell

-Intro-

Help;

The thing that Sans needed most. Insomnia and abuse often go hand in hand, yet cause unfathomable damage to its host. He was so tired, exhausted even, both physically and mentally. Underfell will do that to a monster.
Sans shouldn't even be alive, he'd be dead already if it wasn't for the captain of the royal guard, his brother...
His 'Boss'...
Papyrus.

Yet it was escape from him that he needed most, the daily beatings and lack of food had taken their tole on the small skeleton, he was thin , pale and WEAK. Weak, that's a word Boss always used to describe him, and the sad part is that it's true, one measly HP and one defence. He's often made weaker from depleted magic reserves, cause by the immense amount of healing his often severe injuries required.

He just needs to rest

'CRASH'
The boot of 'The Great and Terrible Papyrus' makes its way through the already beaten door, earning a small yelp as Sans braced for the inevitable impact. Splinters of wood hit the back wall of the admittedly tiny room, while the menacing, angry skeleton before him unleashed a storm of blows to the ribs and head, cursing and screaming at the terrified figure below him.

"SANS, I LET YOU SLEEP IN 10 MINUETS LATER THAN USUAL, AND STILL YOU TAKE MY GENEROSITY FOR GRANTED! YOU'RE SO FUCKING USELESS YOU CAN EVEN WAKE UP CORRECTLY! WHY DO I EVEN KEEP YOU AROUND, I SHOULD HAVE THROWN YOU TO THOSE DAMN DOGS YEARS AGO!"

Finishing, he ground the heal of his boot into the already cracked eye socket of the victim. Deepening the crack, humiliation and pain that he already felt.

"PATHETIC, TOO WEAK TO EVEN FIGHT BACK! YOU HAVE PRECISELY 30 SECONDS TO GET YOUR ASS DOWN THOSE STAIRS BEFORE I THROW YOU DOWN THERE MYSELF!"

Every morning was almost the same, yet still unpredictable. Its been like this; but today was worse. I guess the king has been putting more pressure on him than usual. He did know one thing however, Boss does not make empty threats.

Frantic, Sans quickly slid his thin red sweater over his head, grabbed his black heavy jacket, and hurdled down stairs.

5 seconds remaining. Good.

Sans immediately headed out in to the blistering cold snow, he knew he wasn't getting breakfast after the stunt he pulled this morning. But at least he can be on time to his post, maybe Boss won't be so hard on him ?

"heh, good one"

As he trugged slowly along, he could feel the stares of other monsters stabbing him over and over in the back. Do you know what that feels like? The constant on edge feeling that fills you with unease. Having to be on guard every second. He knows everyone want him dead or to be used as leverage against Boss, but even they aren't stupid enough to make a move like that. It's not like Boss would give a shit, he'd probably be punished for bring captured in the first place and being too  fuckin' weak ! 

Shaking off the stares, he focused on his destination. Sans' thin sweater did nothing against the piercing, iced east winds that knifed him. Shivering violently and grasping himself to fight the cold, Sans reached his post. A small, two walled, wooden shack with a single crate as a seat. There he sat and waited, fighting against the intense cold that threatened his life. But maybe that was for the best.
Eventually, the conditions and the lack of sleep began to get to him, eye sockets dropping shut and quickly snapping back open as he dug his claws into his wrists, chipping off pieces of bone.
Pain was the only way to stay awake.