A/n this is probably going to be shite but it was in my head and I wanted it out, so here it is. Sorry if all the characters seem OOC. It's because I suck. And sorry if some of the things are out of order… or whatever? I've played the game yes, but not extensively. I'm using internet resources to pull up a lot of the conversations in game, but its hard to remember where they go.

Oh, and I also will/have changed some of the dialogue to what I think I would happen. Probably. Maybe. Not actually? So it's kind of the game, but also altered a bit because... well, you'll see.

Trigger warnings, I guess. I mean, I deal a lot with the topic of self-harm/suicide in this, so be warned. If I manage to be a good enough writer to give you feels too, I'm sorry for that. These feels probably won't be nice feels either.

Everything is kind of reader like; but it's supposed to be Frisk. So I guess you are Frisk now (again)? I dunno… I just felt 2nd hand POV fits better, but maybe its just because I like 2nd hand POV haha

Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Undertale, nor any of its characters/themes/etc. I'm just... writing about it because it sparks a good platform for imaginative writing.

Echoes of An Empty Mind

Chapter 1.

Empty, inky blackness.

A light sparks, hot and white before melding to red. A low rumble sounds in your head, forcing the pieces of your soul back together. Crunching, cracking, breaking and molding. The voice calls to you, beckons you. Be determined.

You respond back.

I am determined to make this time different.

You fall down. Fast, hard, intense. The fall should have killed you, maimed you at the least, but none of that happens. Slowly you stand up, bracing yourself. Creaking your eyes open you notice that a bed of flowers lies under you. You caress the soft petals, wondrously. You hadn't done this in the before; you hadn't noticed anything in the before. Spots of blackness appear in your eyes, dotting the smiling bright yellow with sickly black and red. A hiss vibrates around you. Something slithers over your skin, invisible, fleeting and cold. Your bones lock in fear, and you stop breathing for a few seconds. This feeling was just like the before.

The whispers start again. You panic, flailing around in the bed of flowers. Some of them get ripped up by your actions as you try pulling at your hair, kicking out your legs. You don't want the voices in your head. You don't want the voices in your head. You don't want to listen to the voices in you d.

The voice jeers at you, explaining you and it were tied, forever. You had committed such sin, such atrocities in the before. Your soul was now theirs, you two were tied by the inky redness each of you shared. You whimper, and it just laughs. I'll get what I want in the end. It proclaims eerily. You flail and panic some more, but it's pointless.

The voice was in your head.

Paralyzing fear for a few minutes, a period of held, bated breath. Your muscle shake at your tense, unmoving position.

Nothing.

You take a few calming breaths, trying to reason with yourself. So far, the hatred had not consumed you. You were you, sort of. You just had to… move along, somehow. It was all you could think to do. So you try to ignore the voice slithering through your mind, invading your thoughts. You had to stay calm, not angry, not vicious. You couldn't succumb like you had last time.

You bend down to the flowers you had accidentally ripped out in your panic. "Sorry" You mutter to them, trying to apologize for your actions. The whispers laugh at you, taunting you. Hating you.

You can't apologize for being the monster that you are.

Especially after what you've done.

You shake your head and move on. Ignoring the whispering taunts and jeers. You were going to make this time t. You were going to make up for the e.

You meet the Flower, just like you had last time. Its words are similar to the before and that worries you slightly. Everything was supposed to be different, this time around; why was it so similar?

You didn't want it to be like the before. That thought makes you jittery, anxious and perturbed. Your feet tip into each other painfully and you accidentally trip unto one of the pellets. The Flower laughs at you, condemning you to death. It's face morphs into the twisted grinning one you remembered always seeing in the before, its cackling, howling words of malicion slithering around you. The pellets converge on you, and you stare up HoPelessly. Did you already mess up so badly that you were to die now?

Suddenly, a ball of flame gushes forth, tossing the flower to the side. You had forgotten the goat mother SAVEs you here. That events happen, regardless. Instead of looking at her kind face, which brought on mixed emotions and a slight tinge of fear and shame, you watch the Flower fly off. The flames had not killed it, but merely sent it a few feet from you, now incapable of harming you. It folds unto the ground painfully, twisting in on itself. Your vision shifts momentarily and suddenly you see the before memory of it, limp, listless and smashed. Petals scattered haphazardly around the twisted, bent and contorted stem. Your was knife still poised, content to strike again and again and again.

And you did.

Your breathing hitches, before the goat mother's soothing words call to you, drowning out the memory. You flinch away from the hand she extends, the kindness only shaming you. Your eyes flash and you remember her bowed on the floor in front of you, silent, sad and still. You remember murdering her, so calmly, calculatively and cruel.

The way that she continues to smile at you, kind, generous and sweet is just a slap in the face. It's a reminder of how terrible you had been before, how gutless, how violent; not a hint of MERCY in your SOUL. You blink away the tears and follow behind her meekly.

The whispers echo in your ear, just like they had before. But the message this time is different.

You are a monster and nobody knows.

!-!-!-!-!-!

Everything happens similarly to the before, with the goat mother leading you through the ruins for a couple of puzzles before claiming you need to learn independence. She hands you a cell phone. You shake slightly, staring at the piece of electronic machinery, afraid to be alone with the voice. So far you weren't succumbing to the hate, but it was there. At the corner of your mind. Suffocating.

You want to call the goat mother, have her soothing tones relieve you of your panic, but you don't. You move forward cautiously, anxiously. You stutter and blanch as you catch a glimpse of the Flower out of the corner of your eye. It disappears with a smile and a wink. You fear it knows. You fear it can tell.

The voice says it's not possible. We had made sure he would forget.

You don't know if thats concern for the Flower quivering in the voices tone, but decide not to ask. You don't want to try talking to the voice in your head, for fear it could make the before happen again. You don't know if you are strong enough, determined enough to keep that from happening.

The goat mother's ramble at the end of the hall only made you feel more ashamed of the before. Yet, also firm on setting everything right. You weren't going to succumb to the hatred. You weren't going to let it taint you, blind you, feed you lies and give you aimless actions of violence. You even just take one candy from the bin, unlike before. The voice can't taunt you for being greedy this time.

You continue on, the voice rambling away at what you were seeing- as if you hadn't seen it the last time you were here. But this time, you were touching, feeling and reading were able to see and explore, which was nice. This isn't like the before. Everything had been so uninteresting and bland in the before. In the before nothing really had mattered because all you did was-

K i l l. You killed everything, didn't you? Such a torrid little monster.

I hate things like you.

You decide to think of nothing for a while. The voice would always comment if you were thinking. At least if you thought of nothing, it would say nothing too.

You approach many different beings in the ruins. Mostly frog-like creatures, a few moldy-ones, a couple of flying creatures and some strange vegetables. You greet them all pleasantly, ignoring the snide comments the voice gives you to taunt, to jeer and to laugh at them. Instead you force yourself to talk, to smile and to simply listen.

None of them die.

It's a bitter relief each time you manage to safely talk, or simply listen, to one of the creatures you encounter. Each one is a personal victory, a satisfactorily gained score you keep to yourself. A small grin flashes each time. You are so proud of what you've accomplished. Each of the numbers in your head was now, finally, meaningful.

Keeping a count? Just like you ha e? How sick.

You immediately stop counting.

You meet more monsters as you numbly continue your way forward, but you only flee from them. The goat mother calls you, but you hang up, as quickly as you could. You don't feel capable of trying to talk, or to listen, or to smile. You just want to be left alone. You don't want to hurt anyone.

Your phone begins to ring like crazy. The voice comments that mother will not stop trying to call you.

You turn it off.

A small, minute sense of relief fills you. You didn't have to try to plaster on a happy tone. But the guilt creeps up too, she was only being kind and sweet to you.

And then you had to go on and kill her.

You toss your head. No no. That hasn't happened! She's still alive! In a slight panic, just to make sure, you turn the phone on for a brief second. It rings again, the goat mother is calling you. You sigh, turning the phone off once more. You continue, feeling a bit better. But not really.

Then you come upon the Ghost. It repeatedly says zzzzz to you, as if it was trying to sleep. The voice in your head laughs at that, like it had before. It found the ghost's pretending ridiculously funny.

You don't think it's that funny. Pretending to be something else was something you feel you could relate to.

Well, go on. Push him. Kill him. Don't you want to move forward?

Instead all you can find yourself doing is staring. You reached out, as if to push him, but can't seem to continue the motion. You both stay like this for what seems to be an eternity.

"Please move." You whimper out, finally finding your voice. You say it again. And again. The ghost doesn't respond. Your heart beats rapidly. This was what happened in the before as well. I pushed him. I pushed him. I don't want the before to happen again. Please don't let the before happen again.

Finally, finally, you briefly touch the incorporeal body. Your hand phases through it, but it's enough to rouse the ghost from its pretending to interact with you.

It apologizes. You apologize back. It cries slightly, the tears burning little droplets in your body. You cry too, smushing your eyes closed against the unwanted thoughts, the tears slipping through the cracks and dripping down your face. You're too scared to move, too concerned with the possibility of everything going wrong and the before happening again because-

Monsters only attack things.

"Ohh…." The ghosts sighs, dejected, "I'm sorry I made you cry." It continues, despondent, "I'll just leave now…." You crack your one eye open to find it floating away from you.

The relief is immense. You didn't do anything to it. You're slightly concerned that you made it upset though. But the before didn't happen. You did it.

It doesn't matter. He was a ghost anyway, not like we could have physically hurt him. You should already know that, from before.

You bit your lip as you cross between the space that the Ghost had been lying in. You would have rather not been reminded of that. Suddenly, a little smile lights up on your face, as you recognize where you were. Off to the small corridor in front of you was the room that held the quaint little bake sale of the spiders. You rush inside, feeling a bit better now. You had been preparing for this moment, diligently collecting the shiny coins that had stuck fast in the cracks of the walls in the ruins. You pull out the small bits of money, hoping that what you had was enough. In your haste to reach the webbing for a small, pastry donut, the coins tumble out of your palm. They clang onto the ground, a few of them getting caught in the web. A spider crawls down at the sound, and you pick up the rest of them, offering all that you had to the little spider. It shakes its head at you.

You don't have enough.

For some reason tears, bitter and harsh, swell in your eyes. You hadn't bought anything in the before either; you hadn't wanted food then. Not like you wanted anything to eat now, but you just wanted everything to be different. The tears fumble down your cheeks, and you reject your money the spider tries to offer back to you.

"It doesn't matter, I won't get enough for anything anyway." You say dejectedly to the spider, before heading off, "I'm sorry." You call out, shuffling your way to further in the ruins. The sadness swells in your SOUL. You had so wanted it to be different. Buying something from the spiders was going to be a sign of that difference.

Why are you trying so hard to make it all seem different? You aren't any different on the inside from before. You're still that horrible little monster.

You stealthy avoid the next couple of frog monsters in the room ahead, as you try to focus on nothing. Solving the puzzles adds a little distraction to your mind, and the voice is too busy decoding the words of the signs, and describing the world around you to mention any other things. Other monsters encounter you, but you simply run from them (again). You are too fearful of accidentally doing something in order to make any sort of conversation. Not to mention, you didn't particularly feel ready to talk to anyone.

And then suddenly you are there. You were at the junction that lead you to the goat mother's house. But further up ahead you also knew there was a-

Toy knife. Get it. You need to complete your outfit. The REAL knife will come later, as you already know.

Immediately you run to the goat mother's home, not bothering to listen to the frog that tries to tell you the goat mother was around somewhere- or had went to get something. You don't really recall what he had said; it was so long ago for you now.

And it didn't matter. All that matter was escaping from the e.

You run straight into the goat mother, and she worriedly places a hand on your shoulder. You shrink away from her, biting back a scream.

"My child, are you alright? I tried calling, but you did not answer." She asks, voice full of concern and kindness for you. You want to yell at her, scream at her "no, no I am not alright!" But your voice locks, and your throat closes. You look up into the tender eyes of the motherly creature before you and you can't bring yourself to say anything about your sins.

You can't tell her how much of a monster you are. Instead you finally find the excuse that the battery on the phone had been dead. You didn't even know she had called you. The lie sticks to your throat, slimy and foul.

The goat mother tenderly takes your hand again, apologizing for not being able to guide you, apologizing for giving you a phone that did not work. She also claims a pie had been made for you, and she had been busy making everything perfect for your arrival.

Guilt crawls up your back. Shame weighs down your soul.

"I was calling to ask you for your favoured preference, but I feel like maybe I already know. I used butterscotch, but I also put in cinnamon. You do not dislike those flavors together, now do you my child?" You shake your head.

"Wonderful! The pie is too hot to eat right now, but perhaps later you can a have a slice," The goat lady looks down at you, her eyes crinkling in concern, "And please, my child, feel free to rest. Your face looks like you are very weary. And if you are upset you can always come talk to me."

You know you won't be able to talk to her about this.

You can't talk to anyone about this. About how you them. About how much of a monster you really are.

Let's go inside, shall we? I want to see what mother did to my room!

You meekly follow the voices suggestion.

The goat mother keeps up a plethora of conversation, filling in the silence of your own responses. Every so often these worried gazes fall onto your sculpture features, but the goat mother voices none of her concerns. Instead she offers you food, candy, companionship, comfort.

Seeing the way she tries, you try yourself. You give her a smile, but it falters as soon as she looks away. You manage to say a few things to her, to keep a small conversation going, but it lacks substance.

Nothing was going right, like you had wanted it to. You weren't being happy, like you thought you would after you had finally finally won over the anger and pain from before.

But it's so hard being happy when- just below you- was this kind goat mother's grave. Her shattered soul was down there, her dust coating the cold stone floor. The last breath she had drawn an echoing haunt of the silent corridor.

You gulp back tears as you listen to her tell you interesting facts about snails. She was smiling at you, reaching out and touching your head, hands, arms. Constantly, she was somehow always reaching out and touching you comfortingly. Each of those touches seemed to burn you.

She certainly is acting different. The voice comments in your head She wasn't this feel-y, before. You give a shaky laugh under your breath. You didn't know what this signified, but it only left you uneasy.

Maybe she's trying to guilt you into not killing her this time? After all, we should be leaving soon.

You bolt up from your spot in front of her, declaring loudly you wanted to rest. The goat mother closes her book pleasantly, and bides you a good night. You all but run from her.

Try as you may, any semblance of sleep evades you. After a few silent moments, you hear the goat mother come in softly and leave a plate of the pie out for you. Her kindness chokes you, causing more bitter tears to burn their way down your cheeks. It was suffocating here. It was oppressing here.

But you feared moving forward more so than staying still with your SOUL-crushing grief.

Stop this pitying. We need to move forward.

With shaky breaths, you manage to slip out of the bed and pocket the piece of pie. You never really understood why the urge to move forward was such a strong one- an urge that even the voice in your head heeded- but it was constantly there.

But now, you had a more personally reason to leave. After all, if you left, the images of the goat mother's ashes would perhaps finally leave you be. If you removed the memory with that of her smiling face, alive and well- maybe maybe it would be okay.

The lie sticks to your throat, slimy and foul. The voice laughs.

With a good solid 30 minutes of hesitation, you finally manage to find yourself before the goat mother, still poised on the reading chair. She looks up at you, slightly surprised.

"My child, that was a short nap- I think you need a bit more sleep." Her brows crinkle together worriedly, "Your eyes are red and you have dark marks underneath. Please, get some more rest."

You shake your head, once, twice, a few more times. You open your mouth to ask the question, but it hovers at the tip of your tongue. You can't seem to get the first few syllables out.

"Is there something you wish?" The goat mother prompts you as you continue your silence. The voice is urging you too. Get on with it.

You shake slightly as you continue to try and force the words out. The goat mother stands up in alarm, hovering around you worriedly. With muffled sounds, you point below you and somehow manage to mumble the word out.

The goat mother's eyes widen in realization, "If you shall excuse me." She says quietly, patting your head slightly before rushing off. Her face looks much more determined than your own.

After a few steadying breaths, collecting yourself and trying to keep the images at bay, you manage to follow after her.

You were escaping.