Colors | Chara x Papyrus

Chapter Two: Silent Suffering

• • •

     Wind whipped past Toriel's white Buggy. She had light music on, but kept the volume low.
     Every once in a while Toriel would peer through the rear-view mirror, concern evident in her eyes. She'd often say warm-hearted things like: "I'm really glad to see you, Chara," and by now she was aware that Chara had no intention to respond. She couldn't, her mind was blaring. She could still hear Frisk's screams.

"You're a sick, heartless freak!"

     Chara squeezed her eyes shut, wanting desperately to filter her thoughts.

"For years, I was stuck enduring the pain you caused."

     No, no— something else, she needs to think of something else. Chara pressed her eyelids down further, her nails violently sinking into the nylon seats.

"You didn't care did you? You just floated around in mind, using me."

     No good, her eyes opened and darted around Toriel's car for a distraction. CDs, magazines, breadcrumbs—

"I'm not just some vessel for you to leech off of! MY LIFE IS NOT A GAME!"

     A fist came down at that, punching Chara in the jaw, knocking the wind out of her. She doesn't remember much afterwards, just distant shouts and the feeling of cold metal against her skin.

     She shook her head, trying to pry away from the memory. The car had conveniently stopped at a red light, she was able to look out the window and see clearly.
     It's Autumn, Chara remembers enjoying this season. The world is always beautiful at this time, nature's creative streak. Leaves on trees were an array of gorgeous hues: red, gold, orange, maybe all three at once in a mesmerizing gradient. It was always brisk out, a bit chilly, but never too much. Chara watched the breeze force weak bits of amber from the branches, whisking them away to an unknown destination. Soon they'll be all alone, everything they remember stripped from them.

No— focus, Chara. It's Autumn, you love autumn. Don't ruin it. Don't ruin it like you ruined everything else.

     It was then that Chara noticed her faded reflection in the window. Her right cheek adorned an apparent red welt.

"You're sick, you're sick and I hate you."

     Frisk's voice was like ice, hushed but thick with venom. Her golden eyes were strewn with hostility and resent, and Chara was afraid she'd hit her again.
     "I'm sure she didn't mean it." Toriel said quickly and Chara was pulled from her trance, realizing that her fingers were gently stroking the mark.
You're wrong, she thought.

     She'd felt everything in that hit. The force conveyed so much pain, as well as inflicting it, and the aching just wouldn't go away. She could still feel the imprint of her hand, tingling against her skin.

"Now I'm free from you, and I never have to hear your voice again."

Frisk meant it, Chara knew she did.

- - -

     Toriel pulled into the driveway of a decent sized brick house. In the front was a small garden of golden flowers, the patch encased by small bushes and stepping stones.
     "I moved in with Asgore a few months ago," Chara heard Toriel say as she cut off the engine. "Frisk lives here by herself now, but Sans pays her plenty of visits."
     Frisk made herself suffer through the turmoil alone, Chara remembers that. She'd sit in silence sometimes, lifeless. It was unbearable, so Chara would speak. Frisk never usually paid her any mind, not until she hit a nerve.