@armstrongstyles
“ who did this to you ? ”
They don’t know who this man is — they’ve seen him briefly a few times with spamton, but had never spoken to him — and Quite Fucking Honestly was too frightened to even think about asking about it.
But here he is, hovering over them, as Chara presses themself into the wall outside the flower shop. There’s a bruise on their arm right below their wrist, blossoming against their laughably pale skin. Chara can hear their heartbeat hammering against their ears and they despise it.
“I.”
They open their mouth to continue speaking, but … nothing happens. They try to call out to their coworkers for help, but nothing happens. They reach for Frisk in the depths of their SOUL, but … nothing happens.
(They knew the last thing wouldn’t work anyway.)
Chara’s hand moves to grip at their wrist. They won’t look up at him. Their shoulders shake with the exertion of even trying to keep themself standing.
“… n-nobody. I … bruise easily. I fell into the boxes … a-at my job.”
(He’s so much bigger than they are.)
“I am sorry.”