AN: TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS TALKS OF CHILD ABUSE AND SEXUAL ABUSE!

Well, folks, we are nearing the end of our little story here. There will be about three more chapters after this one. Next chapter is going to make you guys really really happy. I'll leave you with that for now. Enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen: Worse Than Nicotine

"Uno," Frisk announced excitedly, adjusting herself on the bed. She sat cross legged across from Sans, the playing cards balanced on the lumpy mattress between them.

"Oh no you don't," Sans said with a dark chuckle, placing a draw four wild card on the pile, "Colors blue sweetheart." He winked as she huffed and began to examine her hand with a pout.

"I dislike you," she whined, realizing she had no means of revenge and he would probably win now.

"Love you too, kid," he purred, putting a blue draw two down with another wink, "Uno."

"That's so unfair! You're such a cheater." She playfully threw her cards at him when he placed the winning card down. He laughed at her tantrum and shook his head.

"You can't prove shit. Wanna play again?" Frisk pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over her hands. She was starting to get cold again.

"Can we just cuddle for a bit?" Sans put the cards back in his backpack and laid down, pulling her to his side.

"Alright, kid. You know the drill," Sans whispered, stroking her hair. During their cuddle sessions, they'd grown accustomed to asking each other questions to get to know each other better. He'd learned a lot about her this way, like she'd always wanted to be a ballerina when he was younger, she was from a small town in Ohio, her favorite color was purple and when she ran away, she was a junior in High School.

"What's your favorite school subject?" he asked first, moving his hand to her back so he could trace small patterns over her clothes. It always seemed to calm her.

"English," she told him, nuzzling her face against his neck.

"What's your favorite food?" was her question for him. He tapped his chin with his free hand and thought for a moment.

"Does ketchup count?" She snorted and shook her head.

"That's a condiment goofball. It has no nutritional value!"

"Lies. It has vitamin A and Vitamin C." She snorted again. He loved her laugh.

"Yeah, like one percent! Pick something else."

"Fiiinnneee... Burgers but only smothered in ketchup. How'd you get your name?"

"My mom named me after my great grandma Frisk Annabelle Abernathy."

"So is Annabelle your middle name too?" She nudged him with her elbow.

"Hey, it's my turn to ask a question! But yes. My full name is Frisk Annabelle McKnight." He filed that information away for later. They continued back and forth until it was his turn again. He had a burning question but it would ruin the light mood. Still, he decided to ask it anyway.

"When Flowey asked you to sign that contract... why did you?" Frisk's smile fell immediately and she began chewing her lip, looking away. The apprehension in her body was enough to make him think that maybe he should have steered clear of that subject. He was about to tell her to forget it when her voice but through the silence.

"Fourteen," she said thoughtfully, recounting silently on her fingers to make sure she'd given the correct number. Sans looked at her, puzzled by the seemingly random response but he could see that for the first time since he'd known her, her eyes looked completely dead. No emotions, not even a glimmer of determination. Knowing this must be a big deal for her, he waited for her to continue. Her head lulled to the side so she could look into his worry filled eyes.

"That's how many bones I've broken in my whole life..." She sat up in the bed and drew her knees to her chest.

"You asked me once why I was so quiet all the time and I told you it was a secret. I didn't want it to all spill out of me so I learned not to talk. If I was quiet, he made things easier for me." Somehow Sans knew they weren't talking about Flowey anymore. Still, rage began to consume his body but he kept his voice and face calm.

"Who is 'he' Frisk?" he probed gently, needing to know but not wanting to push her if she wasn't ready.

"Keith," she explained, "He's married to my mom. I'm supposed to call him dad." She tensed up and shivered as if the very idea was unbearable, "It wasn't always so bad. My real dad died in a motorcycle accident when I was ten. Mama met Keith a year later. He used to take us fancy places and buy me cool things but after they got married things got really bad. He started to sneak into my room and..." Her breathing started to pick up and tears slid down her cheeks as if she was reliving it.

"You don't have to say it," Sans reassured her. He wanted to comfort her but knew how fragile she was right now so he kept his hands firmly in his lap.

"He'd buy me toys to keep me quiet but one day mama walked in. She saw what was going on and... And she just left the room." Frisk had never told this to anyone and now that she'd started, it all just came flowing out.

"But pretty soon, that wasn't enough either and he began to hit me and mama. Mama drank to forget and I kept my mouth shut." She started to fiddle with the sleeves of his jacket again out of nervousness this time.

"One night, he caught me stealing money out of mamas purse and he chased me up the street but I was already on the bus by the time he caught up to me. I came straight here looking for my Aunt Jenny, hoping she would take me in if I told her what was happening. I needed someone to fight for me. I found her address in mamas address book but when I got there, she was gone. The nice couple that lived there offered to call my parents but I ran again. That's the night Mettaton found me." She dabbed at her now puffy eyes with her sleeves.

"I've already been through the ringer Sans. Nothing Flowey can do to me from here on could be worse than the hell I experienced in that house... not even death. That's why I agreed." Sans was quiet for a long while, absorbing all the information she'd just given him.

"Does Mettaton know about this?" he asked and she shook her head.

"I didn't have the heart to tell him..." Finally, he cupped her face in both of his hands.

"You are never going back to that house, Frisk. You're under my protection now. Not just from Flowey. I'll protect you from Keith, from your mom and from yourself. I promise. You have someone to fight for you now. Now get in here." He opened his arms and she threw herself into his protective embrace.

"I love you Sans," she whispered and although he wished she didn't, he felt the same.

"Dido kid."

A few blocks over at the police station, Detective Asgore Dreemur was closer than ever to getting all the answers he needed. Two girls sat in front of him, both looking equally disheveled and battered. They'd been hiding at a run-down Days Inn outside of town when Asgore received an anonymous tip that led right to them. So far, they'd been dead quiet, too scared to talk.

"Come on girls," Asgore said with a small sigh, laying his hands on the table, "I can't help you if you're unwilling to help yourselves."

"If we talk... you can guarantee us protection?" It was Jessica that had spoken up. She was the younger of the two.

"I promise. I'll see to the plans myself. We will keep you here at the station on prostitution charges so we can keep an eye on you round the clock. The charges will be dropped when we catch him. You'll be safe." The two girls exchanged glances and Stratford nodded at Jessica.

"Alright," she said, "We'll talk." Pen and paper at the ready, Asgore took extensive notes. It wouldn't be long now.