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A new lease on life

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I think it would be best if i start my story here.

Simply, I remember… living two lives. It is easier to divide up my actions, my way of life in this way, so it should hopefully be easier to explain.

In my first life, i had a mother, who, despite trying her best to raise her child, also happened to have subjected me… her child, to the boundless expanses of human indecency. My biological father… or in other-words the guy who put his dick in my mother and shot me out… he happens to be a complete stranger. I knew from a young age as to what my mother was, a whore plying her trade. I loved her, and i hated her at the same time, hated that she subjected herself to other men… and i hated myself, not knowing who i was, who my father was. I never told her how i felt, but i felt as though i was a burden, which was how i felt inside at the time.

Then i remember falling down. Six years old at the time… or was i seven, I can’t recall?

It was an attempt at suicide which eventually led to me becoming happy, for a time.

This was where my so called ‘second life’ began, as i like to call it now. A life where i remember being carefree, running around without a care in the world, my brother Asriel and i playing games and annoying girls… or at least the last part was mostly me, in that case.

It was true, i liked to create a ruckus. I was free…

But the good times went away, it tumbled, it went hither-thither when brother fought brother over who got to play with this-or-that toy which led to my ‘fall from grace’. If it involved swords, it might feature in a Norse tale or something similar to that, but this was simple brotherly squabbles.

Suffice to say, Asriel said something to me that affected me severly, something along the lines of “I am royalty, you are nothing... now give it back to me!”. I stood there, shaking with indiscriminate rage, and i walked off, seething. Asriel got to play with the toy that he wanted because, to me, from my point of view, he was right.

Asriel’s scorn illuminated within me, clear as day, the message as to just who i was and as to who i would forever be remembered as, the son of a whore, father unknown.

I knew that the people would remember Asriel, but what about me, what would i be remembered for. Nothing!

No, i would be less then nothing… a rotting carcass left deep in the ground, the laughing stock of the underground, the whore-boy who thought he could be royalty.

My world had changed at the age of eleven. If Asriel could pull away at my façade, why couldn’t everybody else. What of my second mother and my first father, Toriel and Asgore, what if they too could pull apart my illusion. I would be left bare… nothingness itself, nothing but the son of a whore, and i would die as one. My prospects grew darker, and i grew depressed as the voices in my mind grew darker and darker, casting shadows through me.

That was my fear, my greatest fear, the fear of being forgotten, forgotten by time and forgotten by people. My second fear was of being mocked… i had temper tantrums in my ‘first life’ when older children mocked me.

I stuck up for myself, used violence and rude words against my bullies, and of course i got bashed afterwards and my mother was very upset… but i remember wiping away at the blood on my nose with a smile on my face. It was fun, getting into a fight, and i had pride in the fact that i stood up for myself and my mother at the age of six.

But, my problem in life has always been my ability to remember everything down to minute details and recall them at the end of the day with some level of clarity… which was not a problem in itself, except for the fact that i hold grudges very well. With the two combined… i felt as though the world had it out against me, and i wanted to fight back against the world, to let every wrong committed against me be righted... in righteous vengeance, or something approaching it. It was a them-vs-me mentality i had fostered very early on, i must have been seven years old at the time.

In the end… after Asriel got his new toy, i began to confine myself, to keep myself hidden, a corner-rat. My emotions, anger, hatred, fury… i tried my best to push them down, to keep them bottled inside.

Asriel noticed, Asgore noticed, Toriel noticed… they all noticed as i started to become more withdrawn and ‘cold’.

Asriel apologised about what he had said, and i accepted it, pretending to be sincere and kind… but i knew he was lying. I was so sure of it back then… so swallowed by my depression that i would mentally skew all actions that might have been good intentions as being devious, evil schemes… i hated myself, utterly, i hated humanity, utterly. I was… unstable.  

I realised after several months that i just didn’t enjoy life in the same way anymore. Asriel wanted to play with me, and i pushed him aside. No, i was still angry with what he had said before.

Eventually… i ended up poisoning Asgore by a complete accident, buttercups instead of cups of butter… ridiculous how i... or rather Asriel in this case, made that connection between a flower and a cup of butter. I laughed it off… but inside, i felt like the lowest person on the face of the earth, i was scum. Asriel was there… he cried, and then that face… i knew i was scum.

Food and drink began to lose its appeal, i was depressed. I stopped eating regularly, i started to lose weight… eventually i grew to become terminally ill.

I hated myself.

I remember when Asgore spoke to me, about a month before i died. The very man that i had poisoned and laughed at, could offer me such heart-felt words.

“Chara, you have to stay determined! You can't give up... You are the future of humans and monsters...”.

But, i didn’t believe him, not for a single second. I was not even his real son, i could never be the future of either humans or monsters. I was the son of a whore, it was all i would ever be, no matter what anybody would say contrary to that. Self-doubt and pity, those were the feelings in my heart.

I wanted petty revenge, i wanted to piss on the world and die out in a blaze of glory. I was twelve at the time and the notion of dying in a ‘heroic’ or epic fashion appealed to me. Better to die as a lion than as a sheep, or so they say.

I thought it through, my plan. I was very sick, but i took the time to gather information, to read all that i could about the barrier.

I hatched a nefarious plan to steal six souls human souls, to gain as much power as i could… and then i would kill as many people as i could, open the barrier. Then i would destroy humanity, not entirely because i despised it, but solely because i wanted to have the last laugh before i went away.

But, i knew that i would have to deceive Asriel in order to hatch my plan.

I did just that.

Truly, i lost my way in life, my direction, my purpose, i had lost it for so many years now.

And in the end, when Asriel lay down, dying, because he refused to fight… i said my last few sentences to him. I knew i wouldn’t have another opportunity to speak because he was growing pale, blood matting his fur in clumps.

“Asriel… you… even though you let the humans live… beat you, hurt you… i respect you. I wanted to die… in a blaze of glory, to make people fear me, respect me. But… we can die… together, our deaths will be famous, the prince of monsters… the human boy, we can die as equals.”

In the end, i remember nothing else, until the day that i felt something, many years later, a source full of determination. My soulless being was gathered like a moth to a flame, i had a purpose again.

She, Frisk, had fulfilled that which i was supposed to have done, to be the future of humans and monsters. I was the shadow, her shadow, but i could never touch her, could never reach to her… her heart was both like my own… stubborn, but she was also pure and innocent, both of which i lacked. She never even knew i existed, except for the time when she gazed upon her reflection in a mirror, and saw a glimpse of me.

I had no soul… and i didn’t want to be beneath Frisk’s bounding shadow anymore… so when the monsters moved to the surface, i imprisoned myself above my own coffin and that of the other children… i watched that place, my footsteps tattered through ten-thousand fold in every direction, soulless contemplation awaiting the rest of my days, and the search for answers within my fractured mind. In my soulless being, i was angry, confused, sorrowful… a melancholy taint upon the world.

Eventually, i was saved, i was given a soul... but i will save that story for another time.