You hate the dead of the night. Your eyes are wide open. Tossing and turning in your bed, you vainly hoping that sleep would claim you this time around. It scarcely ever does. On nights like these, the hall ways echo and groan. It puts you at unease.

This is the life nobody knows about. While your siblings are both conked out, you are fully alert, watching them. You have lived on the surface for the majority of your life. Why should you be so surprised to see yourself on the surface while everyone else is still trapped underground?

You thought to yourself that nobody knew this better than Asriel. From the way you see him twitching and moaning in his sleep, you conclude that he's trapped in another reset. You pull out the cloth you've been working on from under your pillow and wrap it gently around his stem. He seems too out of it to notice. Your feet touch the carpet with a soft thud and you quickly rush out of the room right after.

Sometimes on good days you'd find Sans wandering around. Not that you particularly liked Sans. He seems to know a lot more than he lets on. On the other hand, he'd rather pick on Asriel than pick on you. So there was that good. When you and your adoptive family first came out of the underground, you would find Sans awake all the time but now you'd have to pray in order to bring those nights back again. Those nights where you weren't all alone.

The darkness seemed to bother you, tonight. You're not afraid of the dark, but you scavenge around the house, looking for anything that could resemble a light and by narrower terms, life. Darkness seemed to close all around you and the moon was too young to shine its light. The only thing that seems to keep you company now are your thoughts.

I won't kill them... I won't kill them all...

You're trying so hard not to smash your head or pull your hair out. With haste you turn on a light and take a glass from the kitchen. You are making your way for the bathroom. Upon walking in, the medicine cabinet stares at you right in the face, along with your reflection. Your skin is pale and your hair is disheveled. Though, that's not why you always stop and stare at yourself every night you come here. It's your eyes that you're more concerned with. They've never looked so... warm before. That's not why you're here, however. That's never why you're here.

You're here for the thing that's behind your reflection. That's right - those pills. You fling open the cabinet and after some rummaging around, you pull out the bottle. You only need two. Two small pills slide gracefully out of the bottle. You don't give it much attention. Instead they go straight into your mouth, the water helping them sail down your throat. You dump the remaining water in the sink, rinse out the glass, and place it where you found it. After turning all the lights off, you drag yourself back to bed.

You struggle to stay awake in class. You see the projector for the SMARTboard turn on and off within the blink of an eye. It makes you wonder why she even turned it on in the first place. The teacher gives you a batch of problems and you have no idea how to do them… You decide to sleep through the rest of the class.

The only class you ever seem to be excited about is lunch. It's the only time where you're not annoyed by ridiculous demands from teachers and boy are you excited for this particular period; you manage to spot Mitt. 'What a lousy brat,' you think to yourself. Your mind was made up that the only reason he even has friends is because he has rich parents. He's such a loser.

"Hey," you holler at Mitt without thinking much of it. "I got something to say to you, Mitt!"

"Oho~, so you do," that prep huffs. "Make it quick! My dad is bringing us real food, soon."

"You've reached an all-time low beating up a plant," you mock. "You pathetic worm!"

Mitt's friends seem to laugh alongside him. "I know you are but what am I?"

"Stupid."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Oh no, you've seen this before, but inertia hits your train of thought.

"Retarded."

"I know you are, but what am I?" Within the midst, an idea pops into your head and a sly grin stretches your mouth. You cross your arms.

"Rich."

"I know you are, but what am- oh."

"Oh thank you. I'm richer than you, anyway AND I have better parents than you." By this point, the boys around Mitt had long since quiet down. Mitt's face flushes even redder than your cheeks. He's trembling, as if he is about to let you have it. Then, as if something hit him in the head, he smiles.

"So you have money too, huh," he asked.

"Uuh yeah," you shrugged. "Of course we do." Suddenly, Mitt extends his hand out to you.

"You wanna be friends?"

You know this has to be a trap. Nobody goes from wanting to kill you to being nice within a millisecond. Though seeing his blood thrown along the floor brings a smile to your face. As much as you don't want to kill anyone, you also don't find this loser's life worth sparing from the hungry thoughts that plague you. As gruesome as they are, even they deserve a little snack. You inquire him just before making the deal, however.

"What is in it for me?

"Well," Mitt begins. "You can come to my house and play video games, and we have a pool and golf, and movies, and boxing, and sometimes my big brother comes and brings us treats!" Suddenly he sets his messenger bag on the table and pulls out a strange bottle. "My brother bought this for us to try. He says all the big kids drink this."

You stumble back at what Mitt holds in front of you. Oh yeah, for big . Your mind is flooding with images. You've seen those kind of bottles before. You've seen what a mess they make when you smash them. You've seen how they'd slice your hands if you clutch to them hard enough or how they cut your fingers if you're not paying attention. The blood always seemed to mix with your tears. You've also seen how a person can really struggle just to stay alive after slicing it across their neck a few times. Over and over and over again... Your face cringes in disgust at the bottle. Living with such a nurturing mother as Toriel, you thought you'd never live to see the day.

"Hey, don't you want to be like the big kids," one kid asks.

"Yeah, don't you want to be friends with us," asks another. "You have to take it, bro!"

"It's our welcome gift to you." Mitt brings the bottle closer to you in a reaffirming manner, expecting that you take it out of his hands. You don't want this to drag out more than it should. Clearing your thoughts, you close your eyes. You reluctantly take the bottle. Mitt grabs your other hand and shakes it firmly.

"I'm Chara," you introduce.

"Nice to meet you, Chara," Mitt chirps. "Welcome to the circle."