It had been a week since I broke, and Ink seemed to hurt me more after it happened than before; he just enjoyed my pain, and it was apparently more enjoyable to him when I was begging him to stop. I told him how my code was broken and about my lost abilities, but I managed to refrain from telling him anything else; I couldn't have held back for long, though. My clothes looked like they had always been red, and my bones did, too; I was in constant agony even when Ink wasn't in the room - it hurt more when he was, though. My bones were either broken or going to be; I wasn't escaping on my own. My determination was hiding in the back of my soul, being discouraged from trying to come out. Whenever a guard had to venture into the room, they would more often than not break down crying or try to get some of the paint off of me; it wouldn't help, but it was nice to know somebody cared. At the moment, Ink wasn't in the room, but I was still in agony - scratch that: Ink had just entered the room. His footsteps sent shivers down my thankfully unbroken spine.

"Good morning, Dust!" Ink sat on the floor next to me. "How are you feeling today?"

I just whimpered, lying on the floor and starting to cry, knowing what would come next.

"Aw, there's no need to feel down! Especially when we can play a nice game with eachother!"

"P-please..don't.." I begged.

"Oh, you don't want to play?"

"Please.."

"Well, that's too bad, because I'd love to play with you."

I cried; I didn't want him to hurt me more.

"Sir, am I interrupting s-something?" A guard was in the room, trying not to look at me; he would have cried if he did.

"Not really." Ink stood for a moment. "What is it?"

"It seems another at-attempt is being made." 

"I see; foil it."

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Now leave me."

"Yes, Sir."

The guard quickly ran out of the room before he started crying, obviously distressed by my condition. They hadn't told me what these 'attempts' were, but Ink seemed angry about them. He didn't seem angry when he turned back to me, unsheathing his paintbrush; it was tipped with red - it was always tipped with red. I hated the color red. 

"Let us get back to our game, shall we?" Ink knelt down to my broken figure, receiving more whimpers. "You'll feel better after this."

He almost always said that; he didn't mean I would feel better as in good - he meant I would feel the pain better than I did before, and he was right: it always felt worse. When he started battering me and letting more paint fly, I always felt it better. When he finished this torture session, I had gained more broken bones, and a new layer of paint covered my clothes and body; he stepped back to admire his work, just like he always did.

"Now, that felt good, didn't it?" Ink grinned.

I was shaking in pain and whimpering.

"Answer me!"

"Y-yes.." I replied; he would have hurt me more if I said no.

"Good! You know, I think you might have dodged something today; did you?"

"N-no.."

"Are you sure about that?"

"N-n-no?"

"I see." Ink paused; there was a sound coming from the door. "Stay here.."

Ink backed into a dark corner of the painted room, leaving me whimpering, shaking, and crying on the floor. The door opened after a minute, and there was a small clamor.

"What makes ya thin' he's in this roo'?" Somebody asked.

"Well he's supposed to be in Ink's room, right?" Somebody else replied. "Doesn't this look like a room that Ink would take?"

"Guess yer right."

"Over there!" Another yelled in surprise.

I heard a lot of footsteps get closer to me.

"O-oh my gosh.." A voice sounded like it was crying. "Wh-what did he d-do to him?"

"We need to get him out of here, now!" Another stated.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." Ink laughed. "It took so long to finally break him, and I don't want to give him up just yet."

"B-break?" The crying voice questioned.

"Oh, yes, I broke him; it took quite a while, but I did it. Now how about you just leave him here, and I won't hurt any of you."

"We came to rescue him; if we have to fight you to do it, so be it." These voices were sounding familiar.

"Then we'll fight."

Sounds of clashing knives and paint flying flooded the room, and I could hear Ink stopping anybody from getting near me; he wouldn't lose me that easily. I was still crying from the pain, which only seemed to strengthen Ink; I was blinded by paint, and I couldn't see the battle, but I could tell that he was winning. Unexpectedly, Ink was hit with a seemingly powerful attack - I could tell from his yell - and the others took full advantage, landing more blows. I heard an angry Ink, followed by a portal opening and closing. The others rushed over to me again.

"Dust?" They seemed concerned about me.

"O-ohh gosh, Dust, c-can you hear us?"

"Dusty, are you okay?"

"Imma kill Ink."

"We'll do that after we get him home. Let's get him out of here."

I felt myself being lifted, and my broken bones shifted, causing me to yell out in pain; they hurried, and probably cried, upon hearing this. After a while of being carried, a portal opened, and I was pulled through it, quickly being put on a table; the table felt familiar.

"We need to get this paint off him; red is the most painful.."

"Right; let's start with his skull."

"Okay, Dad." I remembered that phrase; Dad?

"D-Dad?" I whimpered.

"It's okay, Dust." Nightmare spoke; it was him! "Everything is going to be all right."

I felt something rubbing against my skull; it hurt, since my skull was severely cracked - actually, my entire body was cracked - but I managed not to scream. After a while, I wasn't seeing only red anymore; I could see my family. I could see my family! I couldn't move, but I could see them! They looked horrified when they saw the extent of my injuries.

"I want to kill Ink." Error plainly stated.

"This is just his skull!" Nightmare covered his jaw. "What did he do to my son?!"

"I-it doesn't h-hurt too.." I coughed up some paint. 

"Oh my Frisk.." Killer stared in shock.

"Are you using my name as a curse word now?" The kid complained.

"Yeah...I am so glad we made Papyrus stay outside."

"I thin' I'm gonna be sick.." Horror bit a phalanx.

"We need to get the rest of this paint off of him, then we can take a..b-better look at his injuries.." Error was crying.

"Y-you're right.." Cross agreed.

"Dust, can you move anything?" Nightmare was afraid to ask.

"N-no." All of my limbs and then some were broken.

"Right..let's clean his ribcage off; I'll remove his jacket, you get his shirt."

My clothes were removed in order to reach my bones, which had been coated in many layers of paint; Ink did much more than necessary to ensure that my entire body was doused with paint every time he tortured me. Horror actually threw up at the sight of my bones, and Nightmare allowed him to leave the room; they all wanted to leave the room, actually, but they weren't the ones who got sick. While they were cleaning me, I coughed up a lot of paint, and although I didn't know where it came from, it hurt enough for them to seriously worry; apparently Ink making me drink paint was going to have lasting effects. I had said it before in the past, but I was wrong - terribly wrong - I was scared of Ink; the extent to which he tortured me was enough to make anybody fear him, and when I broke, I realized that he absolutely terrified me every time he entered the room. The fear he struck into my soul made the pain hurt worse, and he knew it; he knew I had finally found a fear of him, and he loved it. He loved being feared, especially by someone who once said he would never fear him. After four hours, the majority of the paint had been cleaned off my broken bones, but they were still a dim red; my clothes were being washed.

"I-I don't s-see an unbr-broken bone!" Cross cried bitterly.

"I'm considering murder." Error confessed. "I'm really considering it."

"Can Ink even die..?" Killer was in shock.

"We can find out."

"We probably shouldn't let his brother see him like this." Nightmare sighed.

"Agreed." The others harmonized.

"Take his brother to the living room; I'm going to take him to his bedroom and heal him."

"Okay, Dad." Error left off the 'Dad.'

I heard Papyrus being moved away from the door as Nightmare picked up my broken body and teleported to my room, laying me on the bed; magic was useful in this case. Nightmare began to heal me, but we both knew it would take a long time to fully heal.

"Dust.." Nightmare had a few tears mixing with his goop. "Does it..really hurt?"

"Y-yeah.." I was shaking, even with broken bones. 

"Did Ink really.."

"Y-y-yes..."

"Does it hurt to talk?"

"A l-little...I c-can.." I coughed up more paint; Nightmare was ready for this, wiping it off me with a towel.

"Just..sit tight; you'll be healed in no time."

"O-okay..D-Dad?"

"Yes?"

"D-did you really m-mean it when yo-you said..son?"

"I guess I didn't realize I said that, but...yes; you're like a son to me."

"I-I love you, D-Dad."

"I love you too, Dust."

Nightmare continued to heal me for a few hours until the healing wouldn't help any more; I still couldn't move, and it hurt immensely, but it didn't hurt as bad as it would have if I was still lying on Ink's floor. I could now talk without stuttering often, which was a relief to me; I would have still been coughing up paint for a long time, unfortunately - Ink really liked to force me to drink it, although I didn't understand it. Ink was just delighted by torture, and there was no easy cure for that. When the healing stopped, Nightmare took a moment to sit back. 

"Dad?" I inquired.

"Yes?" He looked to me.

"How long do y-you think it'll take?" 

"I don't know: maybe months, if we're lucky. There's paint physically inside your bones, and we're going to have to get it out somehow. Dust..you might never fully recover."

"I was afraid of that.." I began to let a few tears form. "Dad, I-I'm scared!"

"I know..but we're going to stay strong, right?"

"I can't stay strong.."

"I know it looks bleak, but..it'll get better; I don't think it could get too much worse, to be honest."

"..."

"Is there something troubling you?"

"Yes.."

"What is it?"

"I'm..scared of Ink."

"Dust, he did..this..to you! Anyone would be scared! I'm scared!"

"But I shouldn't be scared! I have to be the strong one that helps the others when things look bad! I have to stand up when things are scary, and make it seem better! I have to..I..but..I'm scared!"

"Dust." Nightmare placed a soft hand on my shoulder, making it so light that it wouldn't hurt. "You don't have to do those things; you're allowed to be afraid when you're scared. Nobody is going to blame you if you can't face a certain enemy! If you can't fight Ink, that's absolutely fine! We just don't want to lose our Dust. Can you stay strong, even when you're afraid?"

"Yeah..thanks, Dad."

"That's the spirit!"

"I really.." I coughed up more paint, which Nightmare wiped away. "I really wish that would stop.."

"Do you know why it happens?"

"Ink made me drink paint..."

"Why would he do that?"

"Why would he do anything? He just likes to torture me.."

"What else did he do?"

"..."

"What did he do to you, Dust?"

"He.." I winced just thinking about it. "He injected me with..something. I-I don't know what it was..but it hurt.."

"I see..do you think you can stay here without too much pain while I tell the others?"

"I'll be fine.."

"Okay."

Nightmare left the room, and I fell asleep, into a dusty nightmare. It didn't bother me, but then again, it never did; nightmares were a relief to me when Ink held me in his room, even if I could still feel the pain in my sleep. The only danger was that I'd choke on some paint, which I admittedly did often, but Ink wouldn't let me die; he made that painfully obvious when he kicked the back of my skull to purge the paint from my system, and after which, made me drink more. I felt good as the dust swirled around, and I felt safe, although I also felt pain. As the nightmare continued, I felt so lucky to have the family that I did, and I knew they would protect me, just as I would for them. I also took the time to enjoy the fact that Papyrus was alive again! He's the best, living or dead!

I felt protected.

~~~chapter end woot~~~

Dust bean safe yay!

Thanks for reading my uncomfortable writing!

Bye!