[It makes sense. It might sound backwards on a purely theoretical, logical level, but it makes the visceral and soul-deep kind of sense that they know from personal experience. The way Sans knows from personal experience, too, they think, because surely someone who didn't get it would never suggest it.

It's... it's just the kind of thing that claws its way into you, they think, when you really learn what it means to think "but nobody came."

You deserve it. You deserve people who hurt you. At your worst, you become almost obsessed with your misery, almost find a sort of strange vindictive, sadistic pleasure at shouting yourself into submission. You lose sight completely of everything outside that cocoon of jagged, rusting misery.]

I don't want to just let this rest. I can't just let this rest. I do not care if they are out of my reach.

[Can't get to that side. No police in Wonderland. No law. No church to hear your confessions. No clear concept what they even mean when they say they need to see justice, only the sickening feeling that no child should have to suffer through that ever, ever again.]

I refuse to allow anyone to steer a child toward the abyss and walk away utterly unburdened. It sickens me to even think they might be satisfied by an outcome like the one they pushed for.

Do... I suppose it is a slim chance, but do you suppose Frisk would tell us who?

[They doubt it, somehow. Frisk is good. Frisk forgives you. Frisk would... protect the people who did this, wouldn't they? That's what a good victim does. Thinks about the discomfort they would put the people who harmed them through if they told the truth.]