I watched my phone light up, a message from Frisk.

My hands figured to be shaking as I put the words imbedded in my mind. I won’t ever get her out of my head, as I keep repeating it over and over again.

“It was for the better.” They told me, “it had to be done.” Then why do I still feel bad? The form of warm tears filled my eyes. I could barely read the words on the phone screen.

As though Frisk was my enemy, I feel scrapped. Thrown away by everyone around me, as it will never be the same.

My heart beat quickly as I opened my eyes to the real world. I remembered.

I am not mad at the message, I am mad because Frisk is dead. She has been dead. Dead because of me.