There's a lurching, sinking feeling in their stomach, and Chara's afraid they might be sick. They can still feel the manacle clasped around their ankle yet somehow they keep rolling further, deeper down the filthy, reeking floor. They cling to Frisk like the other child is life itself, needle bones and metal bits and all.
Their mother's anguished cries, Frisk's howling, the groans of the floor all echo in Chara's ears as they roll down and down and then there's an even louder ripping noise and they
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"You ca͘n'͠t l̸̝͔̙͕͚ȩ̗̻̻a̹̱v̩̗ͅe̵̺̞̮̲̻͍̬͕̭͈̱͞ͅ m̨̭̥͎͔͘ͅe̲̼!͏̱̗̮̕"͏̝͇̰͈̝͕
Their mother's anguished cries, Frisk's howling, the groans of the floor all echo in Chara's ears as they roll down and down and then there's an even louder ripping noise and they
just
d r o p . . .