Outcast: A Gaster Story [Discontinued]

Chapter 8

“What the hell happened?” A worried voice wakes me, a breeze blowing into the car. 

“She burned the card. She got into the car. I don’t ask questions,” someone else says, both voices familiar to me. Another soft breeze hits my bare arms, goosebumps beginning to rise. I grumble, moving my arms underneath me to keep them warm. 

“Her back is covered in blood and you don’t question it? Riv, come on. You could have at least called me and I could have been ready with bandages. Instead, you send a guard to come get me, and he says the ‘friendly human is passed out in the back of the car.’!” The first man begins to freak out, beginning to yell with even more worry in his voice than there was before. Slowly, I open my eyes in response to his yelling. No use in trying to get back to sleep. I look back, seeing a soft orange glow, but not the actual monster. It was Grillby, no doubt. No other monster I know does that. I guess that makes Riv the name of the driver. 

“Flamsey, you’re too loud,” I say, beginning to sit up and groaning in pain. My back is now stiff from laying on the uncomfortable leather seats. It was a good idea at first, but ended poorly. Let alone any adrenaline that was once rushing through my veins now gone. Grillby looks at me, the top of his flames burning a soft blue. His gaze shifts between me and the driver before he shakes his head.

“I’ll talk to you later, Riv. Sammy, you have some explaining to do,” Grillby says, his hand grabbing one of mine and helping me out of the car. My eyes roll lightly at the fire monster’s concern. 

“Jesus, can I at least get some help before you start grilling me? Heh,” I smile at my own unintended joke. It’s always good to make yourself laugh. Even at the worst of times, making yourself laugh sometimes feels like the only thing that can help lift your spirits. Besides, if you are making puns, more than likely no one else is laughing at them. Despite how magnificently clever they can be. 

“Stop that. You’re hurt, this isn't a time to make jokes. Intentional or not,” he states, voice stern as he tries to help me. Slowly, I work my arms around and push him away, wrinkling his halfway unbuttoned dress shirt. It’s untucked as well, he must have been sleeping and in a rush to get to the car. “Samantha, this isn’t the time.”

“I have been through this before. No one was there to help me then, so I don’t need it now,” I deny. As I get about halfway through my stubborn-riddled sentence I begin to walk towards the entrance of Mt. Ebott, seeing a trail of lit torches going down the tunnel leading to the entrance of the royal home. Grillby persistently follows, trying to get something else out of me. 

“Before? What do you mean before? What happened?” He persists. I realise he is trying to be a good friend, but I mean come on. Well, alright, he is acting more like a concerned mother but still. I didn’t come out here to be nagged and questioned like I was a child again. “Samantha, please.” His hand grazes the bruise on my arm from my father’s forceful grab, making me wince and flinch. 

“I did this to myself, alright?” I say quickly and annoyed. ”My actions were the cause of this. The whole reason I came here was to get out of that house with that. . .that horrible disgrace of a human being.” He stares at me for a second, not saying another word as I try to fight back salty tears. "I had to call him my father for the past twenty-three years!" Crying alone is one thing, but crying in front of someone else is something I have yet to do. I let out an exasperated sigh, letting my eyes wander to the ground beneath us. “Just please, stop with the questions.” We begin to walk again, silent this time. I didn’t really mean to go off on him, but what’s done is done. I can apologise later when I feel better. Hopefully, that will be-oh shit!

I’m sent to the ground, my foot catching underneath a root sticking out of the ground from a nearby tree. My palms get scratched up trying to stop my fall, pain erupting in my left wrist. I should have known better than to try to catch myself. Without missing a beat, Grillby grabs underneath my arms, helping me back to my feet. “Now will you accept my help?” He asks, giving a yellow smirk, knowing now I have to say yes.