His gaze falls away from Papyrus's, the shame finally catching up with him. The way that statement makes him feel is humiliating - a mixture of relief, anger, and terrible loss. Loss for what, he wonders? Nothing he had felt had been real.

He folds down over his knees and Times whimpers, bumping his shoulder. He stays folded up.

"I know," he manages, finally. "I felt it. It was my fault."

The last part slips out like a compulsion, those feelings of desperate need overwhelming him even though he's technically free of her control. It sounds like his abuser being stopped is something he actually feels guilty for.