Chapter Text
August 15th, 20XX. The day you lose everything. Your hopes, your dreams, your family. Everything.
The teasing has been going on for a while. People make fun of your sister for being from a poor family, but it doesn’t bother her at first. It is just words in the beginning, but it soon escalates. She doesn’t realize how bad it is until they start going after you. They beat you up, call you names and throw things at you. She is older than you, and shoulders the burden of working 3 part-time jobs. Both of your parents work too, but you are deep in debt and can’t afford much. It doesn’t bother you, because you have your family and that is all you need to be happy.
It isn’t the same for your Mother though. She tries to be happy, to be strong for you. But when she gets sick, you don’t have the money for treatment. She has to quit her job, putting more pressure on your Dad and Sister. The day you turn 12, you are going to apply for a paper route to help out. Unfortunately, that day never comes.
Your mother passes 2 months before your birthday. Your Dad falls into depression and turns to alcohol to cope. Your sister was much closer to your Mom than you were, so it hurts her more than you. Your home situation gets steadily worse after that, with your Dad basically shutting down. It causes your sister to take on another job, so she is never home. You barely see her or your Dad, but they argue any time they are in the same room. It’s always about money, or his drinking, or Mom. Your birthday is approaching fast, and you know your sister is trying to save up for something special.
***
Returning from your friend’s house, you practically skip home. You hum a tune to yourself that Mom taught you, a huge smile on your face. When you turn the corner before your house, you can immediately tell something is off. The car is in the driveway. Your sister’s shift isn’t supposed to end for another 2 hours. You hurry closer to the house. You can hear raised voices coming from inside. This is a normal sound, to hear them arguing, but this sounds more serious. You open the door, walking into the living room. “Dad, Ana! I’m home!” you call. The arguing only gets louder.
What you see from the doorway will haunt you for the rest of your life.
Your Father stands over your sister with a gun in his hand. Both of them are crying, but your Father has a crazed look in his eye. It seems he finally snapped. Losing your Mother completely destroyed him. You stand in the doorway, frozen in fear as the man who was once your Father fires the gun. You scream as your sister’s body slumps to the floor, her bloody hand reaching to you. With her last dying breath, she whispers your name. Her eyes become blank and lifeless.
He then turns to you, pointing the gun your way. You turn around and run upstairs, slamming and locking the door to the hallway. You run into your room, grabbing your wallet and some clothes. You shove them into your backpack, hands trembling and tears falling from your eyes. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears.
You grab your keepsakes from your shelf, making sure to protect the picture of your Mother. You need to leave, to get to safety, but you can’t go just yet. With a quick sweep of the other rooms, you grab some other small items. You pause in front of your sister’s room. A small gift sits on the bed. Gingerly picking it up, you sprint into the final room. His. You hear the hall door burst open, and the sound of liquid pouring on the ground. It smells like gasoline. You hide in the closet, hoping He will not find you here. Your hand brushes against something cold and metallic.
Your hand trembles as you bring it into the light. The pistol in your hand is loaded. You muffle your scream with your other hand as it drops onto the floor, landing on a pile of clothing. You stumble from the closet toward the window, forcing it open and pushing out the screen. It seems people are gathering around your house. You struggle to climb out, but a creak of the floor makes you freeze. He stands in the doorway, blood on his hands and tears in his eyes.
Time seems to stop as he points the gun at you once more. All you can hear is the pounding of your heart in your own ears. You see the exact moment the last thread of sanity snaps in His eyes. Your heart drops into your stomach, a wave of nausea crashing over you. This is it. You are going to die here, alone, helpless and afraid. You hear the sound of the gun firing before you feel it. You fall from the window sill and slam your back into the dresser, crushing your backpack under your body. An intense burning tears through your side, hotter than fire as a loud scream tears your throat. You fall to the floor, blood darkening your shirt and pooling under you.
Your side begins to go numb. Through partially lidded eyes, you watch as He puts the gun to his own head. A broken apology escapes His lips before it fires again. Soft sobs fall from your lips, tears clouding your vision. Everything you have ever known up to this point has come violently crashing down in front of you.
The next thing you know, your house is ablaze. Your eyes close and you let the darkness take you.
***
You shoot up in bed, suddenly wide awake and screaming. Your shoulder and side sting with the memory of being shot, the nightmare still fresh behind your eyes. You curl your knees up to your face, covering your eyes and sobbing. Your breathing becomes erratic, coming in gasps between sobs. You feel a hand gently touch your arm, and a soothing voice washes over you.
“hey, bud. you’re ok. nobody is going to hurt you. focus on your breathing.”
You do as the voice says, slowing your breath and grounding yourself. You finally uncurl from your ball, the occasionally hiccoughing. When you look at the source of the voice, you are met with a concerned-looking skeleton. A brief thought crosses your mind at how a skull can be so expressive, but it quickly disappears when a nurse hurries into the room and pushes the skeleton out of the way. She then injects something into your arm and helps you slowly lay back down, your shoulder becoming numb. She writes something on a clipboard, checking your vitals and muttering something into an intercom.
“Where… where am I?” Your voice is quiet and hoarse, barely above a whisper. She looks at you with something you can only describe as pity.
“You are in the hospital my dear. Don’t worry, we will take good care of you. You should get some rest.” She pulls the blankets back up your body as your eyelids begin to droop. You see her talking to the skeleton before they both leave and you fall asleep.
***
Your sister’s pale face haunts you every time you close your eyes for months after that day. You wake up screaming from nightmares, calling for the family that isn’t there. You are alone in the world, with nowhere to run and nobody to turn to. Your so-called ‘friends’ turn you away, and you are hurt by those you thought you could trust. Your only companion is the voice in your head; telling you it will be ok, that you can get back at those who hurt you. You give the voice a name:
Karma.
***
When you wake up again, the room is cool and dimly lit. You silently wonder how long you were asleep. Looking around, you see a small vase of flowers sitting on the bedside table. A soft snore brings your attention to the chairs in the corner, one of which is occupied by a breathing blue lump.
“Who’s there?” you call. The lump stirs, slowly stretching out into the skeleton from earlier. Heavy lidded eyes blink slowly, a yawn filling the room. “You’re the one who helped me earlier, aren’t you? I appreciate it, but do I know you?”
A light blue blush dances across his skull. He stands up and walks closer to the bed “heh. sorry about that. the name’s sans.” He holds out his hand, and you hesitantly shake it. The room fills with the sound of wet fart, and you stare at his hand. A moment of tense silence hangs over the air, neither of you saying anything.
“Oh my god. Sans. Is that a whoopie cushion!?” You look at him with disbelief. He nods, barely concealing a shit-eating grin. You both burst out laughing. You laugh for a few minutes, the tense feeling suddenly lifted. “Ahaha! Ah! Ah- stomach cramp!” You stop laughing and grab your abdomen, trying to calm down. You wipe tears from your eyes, noticing Sans looking at you with concern. You tell him it’s normal for humans to hurt after laughing too hard, and he relaxes. Then, there’s a knock at the door.
“SANS, IS THE HUMAN OK?” A loud voice comes from the other side of the door, carrying easily through it.
“yeah bro, come on in. she’s awake now, so you can properly introduce yourself.” Sans looks at you and smiles, assuring you that his brother is a big softie. The door opens a crack, and a tall skeleton pokes his head in.
“ARE YOU SURE THAT IT IS OK FOR ME TO ENTER? I DO NOT WISH TO DISTURB ANYONE.” He looks nervous, still standing behind the door. You smile at how polite he seems, and chuckle lightly to yourself.
“It’s ok, you can come in. I don’t mind.” He hesitantly comes in, but perks up when you hold out your hand to him. He comes over and gently holds it in his gloves, examining it.
“HUMAN! ALLOW ME TO INTRODUCE MYSELF. I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! IT SEEMS YOU HAVE ALREADY BEEN ACQUAINTED WITH MY BROTHER SANS… NO MATTER! I AM THE BETTER BROTHER!” He then starts laughing, a loud NYEH HEH HEH that makes you giggle. Soon, the entire room is full again with the sound of laughter. Your abdomen starts hurting again, and Sans gives his brother a slightly edited version of your explanation when he looks at you, confused yet concerned.
There’s another knock at the door, and you all quiet down. Sans goes over to open it, but he is shoved out of the way as Gwen comes bursting in. Another nurse stands in the hallway, looking slightly frazzled. Despite wearing slightly dirty scrubs, she still looks well put together.
“ ! Are you ok? What happened! I saw you wheeled in on a stretcher… I was so worried! I would have come sooner but there was an emergency-” She comes over to hug you, but makes sure to be careful to not touch your shoulder. You guess she probably looked at your file. When she lets go, you look around. Gwen is the only one who moved since the knock; everyone else looks startled, confused and a little annoyed. The nurse who is in the hallway clears his throat and speaks.
“I’m sorry to interrupt… your reunion, but we’re here to do a physical exam on Miss…” He looks down at his clipboard and scowls slightly. You assume he’s looking at your mouthful of a last name. “G. We need to ensure that she is recovering properly. I’m afraid I must ask you to wait in the hall until further notice.” He has a somber look, the others leaving without protest. Turning towards you, clipboard in hand, he asks you questions about how you feel.
“Like someone hit me in the shoulder with a truck. Or at least that is how it would feel, if the meds weren’t working. But right now, it’s only a dull ache.” Gwen raises the angle of the bed while he does this and helps you into a wheelchair, much quieter than usual. She is much more subdued than normal, and you realize that she’s in work mode. It’s strange, being wheeled around by another person. You wave to the others as you wheel past, deciding to observe your surroundings.
The hospital is painted a boring uniform beige, but there are photos and paintings hanging on the walls. Every so often, a fluorescent light flickers. You roll to a stop in front of a door labelled Physicals . Gwen presses a button on the wall, the door quietly opening with a swish . She wheels you in, stopping next to another bed. Inside is the sorts of things you find in the typical Family Doctor’s office, like a scale and those things they use for checking your blood pressure. There are other machines you don’t recognize as well.
The checkup is fairly uneventful, just them confirming that you won’t be using your arm for a while. The bullet severed the tendon, so you will need to go through physiotherapy and have multiple surgeries. You are suddenly very glad that you are ambidextrous. With your left out of commission, you will need to get used to using your right arm again.
When you get back to your room, Sans is the only one still waiting. He seems preoccupied with something on his phone but looks up when you are wheeled back into the room. After Gwen and the Nurse say their goodbyes and leave, he pokes his head in the room.
“hey.” He seems nervous, rubbing the back of his skull with his hand. You wonder how long you were gone, your concept of time completely skewed from being in the hospital. You make a mental note to ask someone about getting your phone back.
“Hey. You doing ok? You seem nervous.” You watch him fiddle with the hem of his sweater, looking anywhere but you. His eyes finally land on your shoulder, a slight hint of guilt dimming the bright pupils. Looking at your lap, you explain what the doctors told you.
“i'm sorry. if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have taken a bullet to the shoulder. i wasn't careful and now you're hurt.” He stares at the floor, his head sagging down into his hands. A single tear hits the floor. You slowly get up, grunting in the process, and despite the protests of your arm and shoulder you gently hug him.
“It's not your fault. If it weren't for you, I probably wouldn't be here at all.” You keep your voice soft, rubbing gentle circles on his back. “You saved my life, Sans. Yeah, I'm gonna be out of work for a bit, and I need to relearn to use this arm, but I'm alive. Because of you.” You feel him shudder and then relax underneath you, his arms gently hugging you back.
After a moment, you hobble back to the bed. Sans quietly thanks you and explains that he needs to go home to his brother, because it’s late and Papyrus has to have someone read him a bedtime story. You snicker at the thought of the tall skeleton sitting in his bed, Sans reading him a story. Sans smiles. After exchanging phone numbers, he goes to leave.
“Wait...” you call out to him. He stops by the door.
“what is it?” He seems a bit antsy, obviously wanting to go.
“What… what day is it today?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He pauses, checking his phone. “...today is August 15th.”