Hi. Happy Fourth of July.
Now that we've gotten our awkward hello's out of the way, it's good to be back. And I know what all of you are saying. Yes, I should have updated in January. Yes, this sequel should have been done and over with a long time ago. But college is a lot of work. So is life.
But I'm not going to get into all of that. At least not right now.
So here is the sequel of Sleeping. I'm not sure if it will be particularly glitzy or satisfying for all of you, but I worked hard on it. It's a pretty long chap, and I'm sorry if I had to compromise grammar/spell check to write it. But it's fan fiction. I trust you're not too picky. Anyway, thank you all for your support for this story. I wrote it on a random limb and I never expected it to be this big. But I'm grateful. :)
So scroll on down. Dozing awaits.
Disclaimer: I do not own SEGA or its characters that appear in this work. There. Why the heck do I still have to do this, SEGA?
Enjoy.
First comes love. Then what? My heart being thrown and smashed to the ground for no reason?
Chapter 1: Soon We'll Be Found
There are worse things to cry about.
Losing a job. A child. Even a love.
Especially a love.
But even here—in the guest room, in all of my convoluted misery—did I have a reason to cry? Any vindication to this sob story?
Of course not, I decided, suppressing another crying fit. My supposed love had left me—he ran away with no promise of ever coming back. I wiped my eyes clean of my salty leakage. I wasn't supposed to feel remorse. I wasn't suppose to feel at all. I wanted to practice numbness, to be utterly unaffected. It would be a welcomed change.
But with his leaving, he also stole a part of me. My heart. I'm sorry if that sounded cliché. And I'm also sorry if I was coming off as a whiny little girl who needed to grow up and realize that being loved was just a dream that I had no right to dream. But what's new? I was miserable again, and I would always find myself apologizing for things that weren't completely my fault.
"Amy?" I spun around lightly, trying to hide the disdain from my eyes as I faced my feline friend. I couldn't even lock the door during my depressing reflection time? My reward was being confronted by her. But wasn't it me who brought myself here in the first place?
Of course it was me. I mean, aside from her somewhat over-concerned nature, Blaze had every reason to be suspicious of me.
"So," she began, the words hanging onto her tongue as she tried to study me objectively, "are the dreams better?"
I nodded once. "Yes." More like hell they were but what was I supposed to say? I could feel that I was becoming a burden, and I didn't want to give her the indication that I wasn't getting better under her care. I straddled my maroon overnight bag over my shoulder and tried to force a smile—something I hadn't done naturally since the days he was in my life. Now I was in a daze, and I had no idea what to do—no idea who to really trust and depend on. Even with Blaze's friendly hospitality. Because what is friendship? What is a romantic relationship when a lover gets up and leaves you?
I released a sigh before taking note of Blaze's face, twitching in an effort to avoid frowning. I fought the urge to sigh once more. My negative presence wasn't good for her either. I had to stop bumming myself out. I didn't want to burrow myself into another destructive hole. Just stop it.
"Thanks for letting me stay here, Blaze." I tried to restore a grin. "Again."
I sucked in the light lavender air between us, evaluating the distance between us. Although I was a guest in her home, only a fool couldn't tell that there was tension between us. So speaking for me and my pathetic sate, I was surprised I could.
"I'm sorry if I've been an inconvenience," I added, averting my eyes to the champagne rug beneath my feet. Who was I kidding? Inconvenience was an understatement of epic proportions. I became a hell of a lot more than that the moment I stepped in front of Blaze's door, bearing my burdens as if she asked for them.
And maybe she did, in theory. Just not in the bottled up, excessive manner that I spilled them. The point is, I was taking advantage of her hospitality, which was somewhat ironic because the only reason I was here—all the time—was because I had been taken advantage of. Or hadn't. God, I didn't know. That's what made the whole thing so devastating. When the hell do I move on? Can I even move on?
And here I was, back in the worst kind of limbo. I'm just a confused wreck, and I don't know where I belong.
"It's fine, Amy," Blaze finally said, the words once again hanging on her tongue, as if she wasn't quite sure that she wanted me to catch them. It was as if we'd made no progress. "I just hope that the nightmares are ceasing."
I nodded reluctantly, realizing the delusion in her words. How could I stop having nightmares? I had unresolved issues. The sadistic dreams I had were merely a twisted reflection of my nightmarish life. I was haunted by him. There was no confirmation. No signs. No...goodbye.
"Amy," Blaze called out softly, that worry she seemed unnaturally accustomed to heightening beyond measure as her ember eyes simmered against mine.
I have to admit, even in my clearly devastated state, I wanted to roll my eyes. Not at her, though. It was me. Blaze was a good friend. A good, concerned friend. And I had no right to storm all over her life, raining misery and gloominess and all of my tragic jazz. Just because I was a withering rose didn't mean that I could let her rot with me.
"...It's been six weeks..." she continued, her voice painfully apologetic as if she had something to be sorry about. Maybe I was right; maybe she was sick of me. "...Now, I don't expect you to be over Scourge or anything but..." She stopped briefly to look at me and I tried to hold my ground. "...Why won't you tell me more? I want to help."
Because I was ashamed. Ashamed of myself, of what he did, and life in general. Maybe I was being extreme, but my life seemed to be based on extremities. Whether it was an immense desire to be with Sonic—which didn't work out— to the life changing relationship I had with he who should not be named—which is technically over, but seems like it's still pending. If anything, I guess it's safe to assume that it was hard for me to let go of things.
Doi.
I summoned enough will to stare back at Blaze, the intensity, the pleading in her eyes making me regret ever coming here in the first place. I was and still am hurt, and I just dragged these feeling onto her. Some friend I am.
"Amy?" There it was again. The concern. The pleading. I was done with it.
"I have to go."
"Okay," Blaze sighed, closing her eyes in defeat—an emotion I was too well accustomed to. Because what could she do? I was a closed source, and the reason for my misery was out of sight. But in no way out of mind. Bottom line, I was a terrible friend, and it would be better if I ungraced myself from her saintly presence.
But what more did she want to hear? I still couldn't accept what had happened. I know that I owed her more of an explanation, but I had already told her the three harsh words that have fueled my excessive presence: He left me.
He crossed my heart and now I wanted to die. It was that simple. And if she was really a great friend, she could have found this information by reading in between the lines. But who was I to judge? Who was I to keep staying here? That's right, I was leaving.
"Bye."
"Bye."
And I was gone.
I didn't know where to go upon my leaving. As I pulled out of the drive way and examined the seemingly endless summer day before me, it couldn't be denied that I lived a pretty limited life.
Now that I think about it, this whole ordeal was triggered by another one that occurred in this very neighborhood, Cardin Falls. And even before that incident, what was I doing? I was chasing the blue blur. God, my life has purpose, I thought sarcastically as I pulled to the intersection. It's a miracle that any one still talks to me.
But maybe they were just being nice. But nice didn't mean good. They were just being two-faced. Just like him.
Enough of this. I didn't want to think anymore. Just drive and pretend that you are as optimistic as the sun shining above you.
But that was the tragic part of it all. Maybe I didn't care that much about him being gone—even though I did. Maybe it was how everything around me seemed unaffected, aside from Blaze's reasonable concern for me. It just seemed like I was forced to lament alone while the sun was swimming delightfully in its sky pool. It was summer, and Mother Nature and its subjects were at peace. So why couldn't I be?
Even the rays of sun extending through my windshield burned me instead of warming my frozen spirits. I groaned lightly, my eyes squinting in an effort to pay attention to the road. It's not really like I wanted to die right now due to carelessness. I don't know, it just—how dare the universe be at ease now! Happy, as if nothing happened.
While I felt like nothing. Every excruciating day.
I stopped slowly at another intersection, watching children, people, and those dreaded couples scurry over the cross walk. Brightly. Attitudes ascended like the golden sun.
I exhaled, staring at my car's gray ceiling. It was almost as if they were mocking me.
"Ha ha! Look what we have that don't, Amy! Why don't you just kill yourself since no one will ever love you? And don't worry, we won't come to your funeral because we'll be too busy getting married! Yay couples!"
Okay, okay, a bit over board, but still. What the hell was wrong with my life?
I wanted simple things and the damn light couldn't even turn green!
Green. In an eternity's time the traffic light finally flickered the color that I was now forced to feel troubled by. Him.
I honked my horn as more people crossed over—regardless of the much anticipated light change. Some cringed their faces in repulse. Damn, pedestrians. They were clearly taking advantage of the situation. And I was so sick of being taken advantage of.
I wanted to storm ahead, but that would only confirm that Scour—don't say it—made me a homicidal wreck. The innocent cross walkers didn't deserve any of my mechanical wrath. No. I'll just let them be happy. I'll suffer as always.
With the depressing low this day started off at, traffic somehow got a little better and I drove into my apartment complex, Mable Place. But returning did nothing for me.
He left me.
I was supposed to forget it with the option of forgiving, move on, and be grateful that I wasn't tied down to such a...I don't even know how to describe him. He said he was evil, but self-conformation of unruly traits usually meant that it wasn't true. Like people who say that they are crazy tend not to be. But this whole situation couldn't be that simple.
Maybe I overreacted to the message. But he didn't leave me with anything. No answers. How could I recover when I didn't know the extent of the damage? Was anything even broken in the first place?
But I felt broken. I stumbled into my apartment, refusing to think anymore. I would be numb. It would hurt less.
Yes, numbness was an appropriate setting. I didn't want to go back to a time before him, and I didn't want to go to where I was now—the aftermath.
But who knew? Our relationship was rushed, and to some extent, hectic.
Perhaps we weren't meant to...
I shook my head, mad that I had broken my mental non-thinking policy. I countered this by laying in the soft, reassuring plush of my terra cotta sheets. I curled into a fetal position. So weak. So pathetic.
No wonder he left me.
Rolling over, I studied the white ceiling. Just sleep. Sure it was still mid afternoon, but what else did I have to do? I was too bummed to study for law school in the fall, and if it wasn't obvious already, if I didn't have a man in my life, I felt worthless. So sleep it was. At least until the nightmares returned.
And they always did.
Huh, well I guess I lied. They didn't come. But as the universe would have it, I still didn't feel any better. Just more numb than usual.
But as I said earlier, it was a welcomed change to spontaneous sobbing. I turned my head over to my emerald colored alarm clock, it was six p.m. So with me dozing the day away, I suppose I was sleeping beauty. Only I woke up from my slumber wretched and prince-less.
Epic fairy fail.
But the whole thing was surreal. It was Thursday, and about the same that I went to Merriment Plaza after the whole Sonic ordeal six weeks ago. I scoffed. That seemed like child's play now. If I knew what was ahead after seeing Sonic and Sally do the vertical tango, I would have basked in the depressing glow and stayed home. I would have avoided this. And this was like having a door slammed in your face—and being hit by it in the process.
And worst of all, I kept feeling like I asked for all of this misfortune.
I mean, I let him in. I left him have me, I let him do what he wanted...I let him. Who was I suppose to blame when I knew the rules of the game and just ignored them anyway? Now that I had lost, didn't Ideserve it? Didn't I deserve to be alone? Again?
And I hated being alone. Again. Why would I be so desperate for love all the time if I enjoyed my solitude?
And maybe going out—granted I could feel that today felt similar to the one six weeks ago that led to my emotional turmoil—would undo the curse that was set on me that unfortunate night. I needed some merriment, and it just so happened to be in a plaza.
McAlister's Tavern.
So this was the place that led to all of this. Him. I looked around with my new, hardened, devastated eyes. But secretly, I wanted it to feel the same as before, when my delusion with him made me happy. But of course, everything that one would expect was still the same. Except my life.
The ambiance, which gave a sultry, mysterious feel to the bar—was unchanged. There were couples mingling away, and toward the doors that led to the back kitchen, I could see that cheetah waitress, and hear her bubble gum snap obnoxiously in her mouth from across the tavern. I sighed. Yup, some things never change...
Just like that, her teal eyes sharply darted against mine, as a knowing smirk crept on her face. I suppose news travels fast. Or maybe the absence of men around me (You remember Shadow. Him)probably made her feel like she could push me around. Classic bully. But then again—I had faced far tougher foes than a bitch's cattiness. Bring it on.
"Hey, princess," she started off coyly, her eyes lighting up in a bouncy amusement. She nudged toward me, from across the bar, causing some restless customers to stare at our direction. "What? Out of men already?" Good one.
I scoffed, before turning in the other direction, hearing her laugh echo behind me. Damn it, I was a bit angry at myself for not being able to muster up an insult, but even if I did, I was in no position to get into an altercation with her. For all I know, with all of my mental turmoil, I might be homicidal. And she didn't deserve to be my first victim.
As I marched over to the bar stools, I rolled my eyes. Karma's a bitch. Her time would come soon.
But speaking of karma, what the hell had I done wrong? I'd like to believe that I was a good person. No where near the best—but genuinely good, right? I heaved out a sigh, contemplating this. This was getting annoying. Even with my fling it's like my life hadn't progressed at all. I was back to a less desperate, but ultimately more depressing square one. The only difference was that I didn't use to have nightmares religiously...
Just wake up...
"Amy." For the second time today my name was being called. I was hesitant to answer at first, because it seemed like everyone who wanted—or seemed to be obligated—to talk to me greeted me with the sound of concern on their voice.
"Amy." A voice, smooth and aged like the wine I shouldn't be tempted to order to drown in my despair, called out again. And contrary to the last time, I responded to it.
"Yes, Phil." Just as I had feared. There was no way he'd give me beer. Not with the way I've been wandering in and out of here like a tragic wreck. When the possum slid over a frothy glass filled with a caramel colored liquid, a single sip confirmed my suspicions. Ginger Ale.
I exhaled lightly, allowing my sullen gaze to meet his. So much for alcoholic relief.
"Hi," I forced out, almost in a hush. He studied me further with his brows shrugging up in worried contempt. Um...Yeah. His advice sort of backfired. If he hadn't insisted that I accepted a ride home with him...
Maybe I'd be happier.
But I was having a hard time telling what happiness even was.
However, Phil hadn't forced me to do anything. He didn't force me to fall in love with him. Thus, confirming that everything that happened to sorry-little-me was completely my fault.
But it was time to cool it with these destructive thoughts. At least for the moment.
"You have to let 'em go. I'm sorry, but I don't think you have any other option, girlie," Phil said out of nowhere.
Although a bit unexpected, his advice wasn't uncalled for. I didn't need him to coax the truth. But sometimes the truth didn't always matter.
I took another sip from the cold ale, cooling my rambunctious mind. "I already have."
He shook his head, heaving out a sigh. "Don't lie to yourself, Amy." He then gave me a look of genuine concern. He was quickly becoming another Blaze in my life. "I don't know how much I can take of you not bein' yourself."
I scoffed slightly, a crude smile taking over my face as I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't mean to come off rude, but it was that word he used. Yourself. Just when was I ever me?
Either I was ignorantly obsessing over someone or having my heart broken.
I barely knew me.
"I'll try," I simply offered, because that was all I had for him to get off my back. What else could I say? I was hoping time would heal my wounds and as of right now they were still fresh. I just wish everyone else could see that and get off my case. I wasn't a damsel, even if I was distressed.
With a considerate nod from Phil, I decided that I had appeased him for now. Good. Now if only I could please myself. As if reading my mind, my older friend seemed to brighten, and I knew what that meant. Or rather, what he would say.
"I still have that son..." he began to taunt, with a matchmaker optimism on his voice. I released a tiny smile.
"I know..." I said, rising from the counter and placing a tip. Please, I didn't have the heart to be rejected again. Even with a grin on my face, I couldn't help but frown internally. He was acting like his son was the exception to all males. As if this 'sacred son' couldn't wrong me like the others had.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciated this talk. But never would a happy man understand a lonely woman.
"Thanks," I replied, accepting his not-so-helpful advice. He nodded lightly, and the look on his face was eager for me to return back to that girl I was six weeks ago. But time—no matter how small—had a way of changing people. And I didn't want to be the same. Walking out of the establishment, I heard a clatter of glass from behind me, and a familiar female voice shrieking out vulgarities. I said it.
Karma.
Clenching my keys, I readied myself for my next destination. Anywhere but here. I drove out of the lot, becoming part of the flow of the evening traffic.
I relaxed at the sight of the sun transitioning into its lunar state. It mean that the day would soon be over. And maybe tomorrow wouldn't be as depressing.
After all, I am an optimistic.
Driving around in circles seemed like a tedious waste of gas. Before I could focus on where I was going, however, I was here. Approaching the road to his house. I blinked a few times, a bit shocked that my sad instinct had led me to the house of unresolved feelings.
Turn back home right now! I could feel every reasonable, dignified part of me screeching, pleading for me to go back to where I came from. But I couldn't help it—at least my body couldn't. It was a battle of brain and brawn.
But I was already here. Who was I to turn back? Even if he did.
I exhaled, nodding in confirmation. I had to do this. And even if this act was just another instance of me unfolding yet another diabolical plot to make myself miserable—well, more miserable—so be it. I hadn't been here since the day he left and I was finding that ignorance wouldn't produce bliss in this situation.
I didn't know what I expected to find, maybe just some indication of his humility to soothe my burning soul.
I pushed the car door open, leaving my doubt. I slowly walked along the pavement of his home, studying the emerging infestation of weeds beginning to crack through the drive way, and an accumulation of mail raining against the front door and falling out of an unattended, over-stuffed black mailbox.
I sighed. Did I expect for him to secretly return? So that we could what—join lips and get back together as if we're from the ignorant, forgiving town of la-la land?
But it didn't matter. He wasn't here, and I had wasted my time. Again.
And maybe it was the little optimism I had that was making me feel so stuck. There just had to be more to this story. And maybe I didn't even need a happy ending. Just a conclusion.
Examining the green entrance, I jiggled the doorknob before taking a sigh. Closed.
And that was the premature end to our tale.
Turning away, I walked off to my tainted origins, feeling far worse than I had previously. I don't know why he left, whether for her or in the disinterest of me, but one fact was for sure—and it had been all along.
He didn't want me.
My eyes were burning with tears as I started the engine. Starting towards home, I knew that my last feelings of hope had diminished today.
Now if only I could just die in my sleep.
But I woke up anyway.
And I was at that green entryway.
Temptation struck me like the pathetic wench I was. I bit down hard on my lower lip, resisting the urge. The urge to be open to the closed door of our convoluted romance.
But a wiggle of the knob couldn't hurt, could it? I could just confirm once more that he wasn't here. I rolled my eyes, realizing the idiocy in that statement. I was just here. And what was a better way of saying "Screw you, and I'm never coming back!" then leaving into the unknown with no promise whatsoever of ever coming back? Yeah, that's love.
That's what a boyfriend does.
I stared straight ahead, assessing my options. There weren't many—unless it was possible to find what wasn't asking to be found. So I was leaving. I had to be leaving.
But then there was a shadow in the window. I blinked rapidly, hoping—desperate—for this not to be some refraction of light from the passing cars or me finally reaching the highest brink of hopeless insanity.
But then there was sound. Shuffling. There was shuffling! Of the shoes, two feet—movement! Something was alive in there. And with life there was hope.
Lights flickered on, illuminating his form. With light there was life. I held my breath, waiting for the shuffling to continue toward my direction. But it stopped. Movement stopped, and I was getting anxious. I knocked ferociously on the door, a bit worried that I would scare him (or knock down his door...) but it would be payback for him scaring me by leaving so suddenly.
But as long as the two of us were together...
We'd be even.
When the door finally opened and I saw him...You know that thing I said about not knowing what happiness really was earlier? It was this.
"Scourge," I said in a ecstatic hush, my voice too dry with joy to speak.
"Long time no see, Rosie," he replied softly, his celeste eyes live with that usual sly triumph that I simply adored. He sighed though, as his gaze hardened on me. "Look, I'm s—"
My lips met his. I didn't want to hear it. No explanations. I just wanted him.
I curled my arms around his neck, taking him in as we kissed tenderly, soothing my broken heart. He came in deeper, his tongue entangling mine, scrambling my brain into the pieces of me that were reuniting with him to make us.
"Don't ever leave me again," I pleaded after we released, still clutching onto him. I was shivering with both excitement and desperation as I breathed him in, reassuring myself that this was real. That he was real.
Closing my eyes, I let myself melt in the embrace as we held strong, our heartbeats syncopated in a lovers time.
"Rosie..." he merely said as we parted. He trailed a stray hand along my jawline affectionately. "...I can assure you that's never going to happen..."
He locked lips onto mine, pulling me into a deeper kiss. When my eyes opened to see his, there was a odd look in his face, as if he were displeased with our exchange. I cocked my head slightly to side, studying the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
He sighed almost passively. "...Because you're leaving me."
I blinked rapidly, my mouth opening simultaneously as a reflex of confusion. "W-what?"
"Sorry, Rosie," he said with a shrug, as a devilish smirk. I shook my head.
"I don't understand..." My heart was hot as lava, my stomach churned with the hot liquid beginning to burn out of my eyes. Was this some kind of sick joke?
"This isn't funny," I spoke out, unable to hide my distaste in his inappropriate humor—or whatever this was.
"It is to me."He snickered loudly, his howling breaking through the still night air until darkened eyes locked onto mine. I frowned back.
"Scourge-" There was a push. And suddenly all I knew was falling. The ground eroded beneath my feet, descending toward a black oblivion. And soon I would be part of it.
"SCOURGE!" I called back, stumbling through the air. He shook his head with a scoff, turning away. Walking away from me. In the window I could see his form being joined by another.
My stomach dropped and I couldn't breathe. Air was rushing fast around me and I couldn't grab onto it. The only source of light—his house, appeared hundreds of feet above me. Then it faded, and absolute blackness became my scenery. As I fell, my brain exploded. My eyes were useless in the blinding opaqueness of darkness. I was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
All I've ever known was—
"Falling into summer, remember that the days are getting hotter and longer. Don't forget sunscreen!"
My eyes widened to take in my surroundings. The shrill voiced anchorwoman in the TV was an alarming blessing in disguise. The mattress below me comfortably assured me that I was not falling to my death. Or oblivion.
But in some ways I preferred it. If I was descending to my doom, then that would have been the end. Because where there is life—however pathetic my life was, I would always have hope.
And I would always be disappointed.
I rose up, rubbing my eyes clear of a lack of restful slumber and my tears. I sighed. There were always tears. And this wasn't even one of the bad nightmares.
I sighed, heading out of my apartment—already knowing how the rest of the night would pan out. And I was tired of this repetitiveness. But it would only cease if there was actually some promise to moving on.
And all the promises in my life had been broken.
I walked toward the light—artificial, but sufficient in the midnight air. Blaze yawned slightly, still managing to appear poised. Clenching my overnight bag, I walked through, suppressing my shame. But it was hard. I was the best example of misfortune.
She studied me with tired eyes that still managed to be alert with concern. Well someone had to be.
"Nightmares?"
"Nightmares."
Hoped you all liked it. Remember to review. It inspires me to upload faster. :)
~Kosma B
