"Please, come inside."

You purse your lips at her motioning you inside, lips curling into an uneasy smile as you walk into her warm yet cramped home. It smelled of flowers and some kind of pie.

She closes the door after the both of you, smiling to herself. You take in her 'hidden' smile, eyes softening. After a bit of studying her, you knew she was genuinely happy. She didn't fake it like Flowey did.

"Uhm, would you like some pie, child?" She turns to you, hands clasping together up at her chest.

You couldn't contain your smile, nodding with pure excitement. It seems like it's been forever since you had something sweet, much less from a mom figure.

She quickly makes her way into what you assumed to be the living room. You scurry after her, not feeling comfortable being by yourself. Something about this place made the hair stand on the back of your neck. It was warm and felt cozy, but something was dark about it. You had a feeling this goat lady, Toriel, had her terrifying secrets locked away in these walls.

When you step foot into the living room, you scan the area with interested eyes. She must've been in another room to your right. A picnic table sat close to the left wall, a vase of red roses. You look to your right and see a rocking chair and a lit fireplace. On top of the brick fireplace was a small, crushed and wilted buttercup flower. It's bright yellow color had faded to a dark, sickening yellow that made your stomach churn. It was a sad, pathetic little thing. Why did she still have it in her house?

You walk over to the fireplace, picking up the old flower and inspecting it with curious eyes. It's small thorns pricked at your fingers, continuing to slump over from it's deadness. When you hear Toriel walking back in, you carefully set down the flower and turn your back towards the fireplace, pretending to enjoy the warmth. Though, you did admit it felt more then relaxing to be warm.

She gives a huge smile, a small plate of pie in her hands. You eye the plate, knowing you haven't ate in a while.

"Here. My special apple pie." Her smiles falls for a second before handing you the plate and the matching fork.

You sit down on the hardwood floor, poking at it with your fork. It seems like forever sense you've eaten, yet, you suddenly weren't hungry anymore. Toriel puts on her reading glasses and sits down in her rocking chair. You watch her from under your hair, biting the inside of your cheek with saddened eyes. She seemed somewhat upset.

"If you don't mind me asking, what was your life before?" She speaks up making your blood run cold.

She was going to reach for a book but decided against it and takes off her glasses, setting them on a small side table.

You take the hot plate off your lap and set it down in front of you, along with the fork that clanged against the plate as you set it down. For some reason, the question angered you. No one had cared enough to ask you about your life, much less in a kind tone. Maybe you were just shocked.

"I, uh, lost all my family at a really young age. I refused to stay in orphanages, so I ran away. I lived in alleys and boxes for a few years. I eventually got a job and bought a small house. Yet I couldn't live knowing that nobody cared for me so I came down here. But I expected to die from the fall, not live from it." You rub the back of your neck, playing with the tips of your hair with your other hand.

She listens very closely, not saying a single word. Her eyes shined through her glasses and her hands clenched onto the fabric of her sickly purple dress. You give a sad smile, holding up your thumb.

"I'm okay, though."

She leans back into her rocking chair, eyes flickering over to the burning coals in the fireplace. You look back down at the piece of pie, sighing under your breath. She seemed a little tense after what you said.

"What about you, Mom?" You blurt out, immediately slapping a hand over your busted lip.

She snaps her warm eyes back over to you, lips curling into a small, almost unnoticeable smile. You wince at how hard you slapped your lip, taking your hand away from your face.

"Well, us monsters have been trapped underground for maybe a a decade? I have a lot to tell, but some of it really hurts." Her voice wavers, hands clenching into tight fists.

You noticed her pained expression, jaw almost dropping to the floor. Her hands were clenched so that her stitches started to rip out of her skin, blood seeping from the newly torn open wound. You throw yourself forward, grabbing her hand and lacing your fingers with her now bloody ones. Now you know why she had blood on her hands earlier.

"Please don't hurt yourself! There is no need for you to do that." You tear up, a pang of guilt hitting her heart.

"I-I'm so sorry, my child." She says softly.

You give a loving smile, standing up from being on your knees and kissing her forehead in a motherly way.

"It'll help for you to talk about it. Don't pin up the pain until you burst. I'm here to listen."

She hangs her head as you let go and sit back down in your original spot, looking up at her with an innocent expression, like everything that just happened didn't happen.

"I have a question. Why the stitches, Mom?"

You wanted to know why she had done this to herself. So far, she had given you no reason. She still seemed a bit shocked at the name, and so were you. But it rolled off your tongue quite nicely and you wanted to keep saying it.

She takes a deep breath, holding her head up with a determined facial expression. Her determination gave you hope that you could help every monster in the underground. After all, if you weren't dead, why not live to help the others? They hate themselves and you don't want them to feel like that anymore. It is now your job to help them.

To save them from themselves.

"I had a little boy, Asriel. He was my everything. Asriel, my husband and I lived happily for awhile until a human child fell down. Their name was Chara. Chara and Asriel immediately clicked and became the best of friends. It was good for awhile, but then Chara got sick and we lost them a few days later. In the process of losing my second child, I lost my first one as well. I eventually divorced my husband because of his cruelty and selfishness, coming to live in the RUINS by myself. One by one, children started to fall down one after another. And you know what I did? I let them go. I feel like I let all of my children fall through my fingers. I hate that I couldn't even save one. I can't look at buttercup flowers and I can't cook my cinnamon-butterscotch pie because the memories are too painful."

You put a palm to your forehead, it all making sense. She stitched up her hands because she didn't want anyone else falling through her fingers anymore. There was nothing she could have done, but she feels somehow responsible for all be damage she's caused.

"Hey, I know the feeling." You chuckle sadly, bringing a heartbroken smile to her face.

"But you know, they made their own decisions. You couldn't  help any of it."

She shakes her head, her long ears flopping around from the little movement.

"I opened the door for them. I killed those children. Asgore, the king of the underground, is the only one who will fight and kill. By now, I think those poor souls are too far gone for me to help."

You look down at the pie, knowing why she almost frowned when handing you plate. It was wasn't what she wanted to cook but everything brought back too many painful memories. In all honestly, you felt truly sorry for her. Heck, you felt bad for every single monster down here.

"And you know what? I can't even save you because I know you're going to leave." She quickly wipes away the tears only for more to fall.

You turn your head, jaw clenching. As much as you wanted to stay with your new mom figure, you had other monsters to save.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm leaving for a good reason." You point to her stitches, eyes gleaming with pure hope and determination.

Her eyes scan down to her hands, a soft laugh bubbling up her throat.

"You're trying to save everyone? My, you're too nice for your own good." She reaches a hand forward and pats your head.

You didn't care if her hand was bloody or not. If she wanted to give you some kind of motherly pat, then gosh darn you were going to let her.

"Just promise me you'll actually save them like you saved me..." She whispers, leaning her forehead to yours.

You nod instantly, knowing that if you didn't save them, they would tear themselves apart. So now, you're the savior.

Flowey who hates himself, Napstablook who wants affection, Toriel who hates the memories and weakness; this is for them.

"I promise, Mom."