It was soon the time in the ward where all the lights were shut off, and Annabelle Wayne and all the loonies who lived with her were shut off in darkness, with belts and harnesses strapped to their bodies. Even Annabelle Wayne had to have a harness when she slept. Sometimes she had night terrors and would cause such a dischord over these imaginary monsters and creatures her fanciful mind made up, and they would give her something that she knew wasn't Nyquil, but something they called "Haldol". She would immediately go to sleep, dreaming a dreamless sleep for what seems to be many days, many ages, and many generations. And when she would wake up, the world was brand new to her, as if this hospital had experienced its downfall and soon was built with a new one, with new loonies, with new lonely people like her, but unfortunately, she would never have any new friends. Such was always the effects of the Haldol. It never seemed to promise new friendships and new hope, but just a sleep that didn't give her any new worlds to explore.

They dispensed the pills from their necks. Seroquel, Trileptal, Klonopin, and a gummy vitamin. At least the vitamin was sweet. But the pills often left a nasty aftertaste in her throat, as if they would soon form a cancerous lump inside it. She imagined her throat only so small, that soon they would get pills larger than her mouth, and she would have to swallow whole like a snake no matter if she was going to choke on the sweet taste of sanity. The nurses would laugh and drink the Haldol like sherry with drowsy side effects affecting them and just watch as she swallowed all the pills in the world, one by one, all the biggest pills that were given to sick horses and ponies, tranquilizing her so she could no longer dream with her fragile heart, as she could feel it breaking every time the pills went inside her.

The night looked so blue, so aquamarine, like an ocean waiting to be dived into. She wished she could experience the night sky with her own two eyes, seeing the stars shining so bright for her. They blazed like lanterns for all the people in the world, for all the loonies inside their cage, waiting for them to be released, for them to be beckoned from their slumber, their quiet, peaceful world. She wished she could wish upon a star and wish away her illness, wish away her parents being neglectful and not at all loving, wish away the nurses and the medication and the loons being trapped in their beds with stakes and needles stabbing their wrists and their legs, screaming for the pain to end, screaming for Hell to come in a torrent of fire and sulfur and brimstone and take them away from their nightmare.

And she wanted to wish away the nightmares too. The ones she often had of the monsters with sharp, triangular teeth, and the rectangular claws like razor blades and the sphere eyes and the cylindrical horns. Triangles were evil she thought. They must be destroyed.

She unhooked herself from her harness and began formulating plans, of the shapes going to war, the rectangles with their army hats and knives, the triangles with their Nazistic ways, the circles with their Buddhist principles they wish to spread, the squares that were gung-ho and had their rifles and boots, the ovals with their lazy liberalism that they had to not go to war but wait until they were in danger. Yes, the shapes were about to march, and she drew them on her wall with her chalk, drawing the many shapes with their knives and guns and their blood spreading out all over the world, with the violet fluid leaking from the walls and into her bed, into the long drooping shadows that were owned by the cage loonies (but not at all controlled, the malevolent spirits that wished to harm them as they could soon turn into amorphous beings and scratch them with their quartz-rigged claws!), devouring them, the darkness malevolent in its wretchedness, wanting to swallow all the world like a Seroquel pill.

She continued to draw, drowning the whole world in a lush hue of violet, making her room the same color as her favorite flavor of the ice lollies that they gave her in the ward when she said she was being a "good girl", and being reminded of her favorite treats, she suddenly thought of an ice cream world, a world topped with chocolate and cherries, a world so sweet that absolutely no harm could come to it, a world where everything had a flavor, that everyone belonged in their favorite flavor world, and the gods could just cast the world in a frigid case of ice and make it sweet, everlasting, forever encased on her tongue that just simply wanted to know the sweeter things she never was given in this ward, the long silhouetted needles of nurses always taking them away from her, saying that those things were not at all "healthy", or "therapeutic", and she drew the world with chocolate flavored walls that oozed of chocolate chips and mints and cookies, she drew her bed as a vanilla wafer with beans and peppermints, with a long wide silky river of milk that was the same cadmium color of teeth and the walls until they were sauced with the brown crayon, and then the floor turned into pink gushes of sweetness, the strawberry roads to the medicine table, to the nurses' station, to salvation, to sanity and self-control. And she wished she could have her favorite flavor of ice cream, the rocky road to recovery, and she wished she could have it in her grasp, as she wished her crayon could turn into an ice cream cone, and she could lick it until her tongue was satisfied, until it melted into the pink soft concaves of her tongue, into the soft sinews of her heart that was weak and fruitless.

And soon her hand was crooked. Her fingers shot nerves of pain into her body. The color could not wash from the vanilla walls. From the chocolate rivers, the cows and birds drinking milkshakes and eating candy trees made of colorful M&M's, and she prided herself on her creation, as her teeth rotted as she thought of all the ice cream she could eat in this world, and she wished she could paint it with ice cream, with melted long strings of chocolate and vanilla and strawberry, and even mocha and peanut butter and Crunch bar-implanted and ones with Snicker's and ones with Oreo bits, and she wished the hospital had some color, a vivid aura. When anyone entered the hospital, they were not met with the same color of pale sheets of faces, of death and circumstance, of the same color as angel's wings when they took a sick grandmother away from the helpless faces of children, but a bright burst of the colors, of the ice cream flavors that could remind the hospital of the sweetness that was waiting for them when they were released, that life truly was all gumdrops and rainbows, but only if you truly believed in it.

She smiled as she gazed at her creations, her sugarcoated world ready to be devoured by the rest of the patients, the rest of the loonies who had the small hearts, the hearts that she thought could be healed by the sweetness of ice cream, as the loons never had much sweetness in their lives. Just dark, torpid nastiness that tasted the same as the pills that Annabelle had to take. Some had such dark pasts, pasts that little Annabelle Wayne couldn't understand, with their hearts so ready to be pierced and sewed with the nurse's small thin little needles that extended at their fingernails, as she learned about such things called "molestation", "rape", and "murder". She often wonder if other kids her age learned about these things so early, right when they were only shoots growing on the end of a plant's fingers, knowing full well of the dangers of the world right when they nearly bloom. She still had a little bit of her innocence inside her, hidden deftly in that fragile glass heart she tried to protect so much from breaking, but she felt that one day, all the innocence would be drained away by the loonies' lives, hearing their tales of sorrow and heartache and misery. And she was forced to listen, even if she was so small, just only 3 feet high, while the rest were 5 feet, 6 feet, towering over her like the long black pillars as their shadows, covering everything in her world. And she couldn't imagine the loonies' shadows, their darkness inside of them, would take one look at her ice cream and flavored world and eat it all, or tear it all down with their long, odious and fragmented finger claws, and she thought if all the color in the only world she had ever known would be drained out, she couldn't imagine living back to the silk colored walls, the lime-rusted walls in their bathrooms, their toilets being zip-tied even though she had no plans on throwing anything, the windows having those bars she hated that she wished was only black licorice, the bloodied safety rooms, the shit-smelling cotton and pillows.

She wished she was out of here and she could embrace the world outside. She wished she could have the taste of ice cream on her tongue instead of bland mashed potatoes and bland lamb chops and meatloaf. She wished she could hug the sun in her small arms, the golden orb so bright and so warm. She felt so cold in here, as the air conditioner was always turned on, and she always felt she would be frozen on the spot. They were all penguins and polar bears and arctic seals on display at the zoo. She wished she could no longer see the man who continued to clap and laugh and say how well they treat the patients in this hospital, and then he would point and laugh at the small little girl who wished to never be in here for the first place for her small little heart, and say how well they treated the little bitch, the little dick-sucking trash-guzzling prostitute. The man would have a twisted face, horns would grow out of his meaty socketed head, and his fingernails would grow until they were curled and sharp. The man would claim this girl sold her soul and body to have sex for money, and her mother, the one who never cared at all about her, was a whore too, and her father, a drug-dealer who forgot about them and soon was killed by the police. And little Annabelle Wayne would cry, she would say that none of that was true, and she also wished the man was gone, that these anomalies in her world would disappear, she wished, she wished, she wished.

She could hear the nurses walking down the hallway, keys jingling in their pockets, them discussing on what else the brat has done this time, the brat with such a vivid imagination, the brat who needed to be locked up in the Safety Room, yet again she will be met with the smell of blood and shit and piss.

She wished, she wished, she wished…

She hugged Sonic close to her, the plush toy she barely knew much about. But as she squeezed him tightly, his fur felt so soft, so warm, and his glass eyes seemed to look up to her, as his gloved hands wiped away her tears. But she couldn't believe in what she was seeing, not anymore. The world had tricked her many times, and the nurses called these tricks "hallucinations", something that she never was taught the definition of. Sometimes she went up to the other patients, playing a magic trick, and she would just say he was experiencing a hallucination. And immediately, he would scream and flail his arms, saying that he was stuck in Hell, that this demon wench was showing him the secrets of the world with her little felt hat and wand. And the nurses, the long cigarette sticks, they would take the man away to the ECT Room, where they would perform another thing most children shouldn't learn about, called "electroshock therapy".

The nurses' red bloodied lips continued to move in such a strange formation, speaking words she didn't know, that the stupid bitch was at her antics again, that she covered the entire room in her "stupid bullshit".

Sometimes her parents have asked her if any of these nurses have said these things, and she said she wasn't sure. Something told her that these things were also tricks. That she could never imagine the nurses, being so professional, calling a little six year old girl a "little bitch". But she heard it, she heard it with her own little mollified ears!

"Ssssshhh…" she heard. But she wasn't sure where it was coming from.

"That bitch! Look at how she ruined this damn hospital! It was supposed to look so dull, so dreary, so gray! Now she's going to get a pummelin'. Will you ladies care to join me? Let's get the bats and clubs out. Let's beat that shit-for-brains!"

She thought she was so lucky, being as small as she was. She hid in the empty medicine cabinet with her Sonic holding onto her arm, tears forming in her eyes, as the nurses continued to snicker and whisper that they wanted to beat the little girl for coloring the hospital, making it bright and cheery.

"It's not real, Annabelle…It's not real…" she whispered to herself.

She was cornered to one side of the cabinet, her head covering her knees as she held onto Sonic so tight she thought his head would pop, but he remained stitched together, his brilliant eyes looking like jewels, and his smile so piercing to her.

She wasn't sure who Sonic was. She met him only just today. And she never knew the girl who gave him to her. All she knew was that she pitied her, and wanted to give her her favorite childhood toy. Had she seen this girl before in the hospital? Had she seen her with her own little mollified eyes?

"Don't worry about that now, Annabelle…"

She realized Sonic was no longer in her arms.

She looked around in the darkness, as she heard the nurses only pursing their lips and vowing to clean up the mess the next day. "Oh that Annabelle Wayne…she has such an imagination that needs to be kept away! Before her and any of the other patients get any big ideas!"

She was safe. For now. The nurses were now nice and cheery, as she wished they would be all the time.

"Annabelle, you're safe…"

She felt a gloved hand stroke her cheek.

She could feel a pulse inside it. She could feel that it was warm, and full of sweet intentions.

He smiled at her, as she felt the gloved hands pull in her closer, to a tight, kind, warm-hearted hug.

"You're okay with me, Annabelle…"

She looked to those shining jeweled eyes, and she could hear a low, soft hum as he softly rocked her, his quills feeling so soft, like silk, and his hands feeling so soothing, like ice cream during a depressing, rainy day.

"Everything is okay…"

She could hear the other loonies snoring in their beds. She could hear the rainfall beginning to drip down to the earth she always wanted to see. Even though she hated the gray skies and the hidden sun, the sound of rain always seemed to calm her.

"Just like Schiza…" he said.

"Who's Schiza, Sonic?"

"Uh…" He scratched the back of his head, chuckling. "Nobody you really need to know right now. All I can tell you is that I've been brought to you for a special purpose, Annabelle. And I'm going to help you. I'm going to make all your wishes…the wishes where you wished to be out of this hospital, the wish where you wished you get to eat ice cream like you used to, the wish that your parents understood you…I can make all those wishes for you come true. I'm Sonic, your guardian angel, your protector, your help, your…wishgiver."

"Am I really just…hallucinating right now, like what the nurses told me I go through sometimes?" She rubbed her eyes, thinking Sonic would go away at the movement of her hands, like a magic trick. But he was still there, and he still smiled and grinned, patting her back.

"No, you're not hallucinating. In fact Annabelle, you may not seem to realize this, but your illness…although it is hindering you right now by being in this hospital, your illness opens other doors in your mind. It's giving you this great imagination, this ability to see the world in such a different way than these nurses and patients could see, and Annabelle, you have the power to change the world when you get out of here and learn to use your abilities the proper way. I am the Wishgiver, and you are the Creator. We can make anything in this world happen Annabelle, and all you have to do is your creativity, while I use the stars. I pluck them from the sky, and like bright, sharp strings, I can sew anything for you. I can even make you get out of this hospital, and into the outside world that you so crave. So, what will your first wish be, little Annabelle Wayne? You have unlimited wishes, and you have unlimited power thanks to your fascinating mind. What will it be?"

She thought, and thought, and thought about what Sonic said. She realized that nearly everything in her fingertips, everything that she could think of, everything that she had ever enjoyed and ever clamored for…it was hers. And she could simply tell her wish to Sonic, and he would grant it. He would take away a piercing star from the sky, make sure the bladed edges don't stab his hand, and create anything he could from the fragments, from the little glittering and snow white crystals it had as its skin. And Sonic smiled, gently, as he sat near her, wishing to hear her first wish.

"Sonic…I think you already know what my first wish is."

"And it is?"

"I wished…that I would be out of this hospital. And back with my mom and dad. And I have ice cream in the freezer, and my favorite cartoon show I haven't seen for years was on the TV, and I can see all the episodes I missed in one night. And you were with me, in my arms, and we could watch it together. And when we get to bed, you can sleep with me and keep me safe from all the monsters that are hiding under my bed and in my closet. Can you do that for me, Sonic? Can you make that happen?

He nodded, and grinned.

"I surely can."

And when she opened her eyes in that one long, blinding, and white second, she was in her room, with all her scattered toys, looking relieved that she was back in her mansion, and her parents would surely be relieved too, to hear her small voice again, so high and so happy, no longer in that mental ward where they had to put her in harnesses at bedtime with no bedtime kisses, with medication instead of a spoonful of sugar from her mother to get her cold to stop flowing in her body, and she could see the sun and touch it with her white pale fingers and kiss it and make them have color again, like an artist giving paint to a blank canvas she thought. And she could hear the sound of her favorite show that hadn't been on the air in so long since she was gone, Sailor Moon, was now on the face of her screen, and she carried Sonic with her in her small fragile arms as he heard her own fragile heart beat, as her father welcomed her home and gave her favorite flavor of ice cream, Rocky Road, and she watched it with her family laughing and enjoying that their own daughter had just got discharged from the psychiatric ward, and that she was all right, all patched up with the nurses' sewing needles, and that she will be happy from now on. She will be happy with Sonic, her Wishgiver, telling her that anything she had ever hoped for and dreamed was possible, with just the simple words, "I wish".

"Sonic?"

"Yes, my princess?"

She blushed. She never expected Sonic to call her…anything like that.

Her parents never called her a princess. They always just simply referred her to as "Annabelle Wayne". And nothing more. Nothing less, but no sugary-sweet names that she was so accustomed to. The names that so many girls received, but yet, she never had. Little Miss Annabelle Wayne never had anyone call her anything that gave her a big smile, a white flash of teeth that shone like the sun.

"I have another wish, if you don't mind."

"And what is that, dear?"

His smile appeared so gentle, so docile, as he traced his hands over hers, as the little girl giggled, beginning to believe that she was already liking this Sonic. This kind hedgehog who would do anything for her, who would play with her, like her father used to do when he wasn't so bogged down with work, when he saw paper everyday instead of sweet little Annabelle Wayne's face…

He felt her heartbeat, and he listened to it, without saying a word, as he heard her small voice speak.

"I wished you were with me, forever."

"Annabelle…" He continued to attach his hand to her heart, Annabelle believing he was pulling it, feeling it, making sure it wasn't cut with the razor-sharp unkindness of life. And he bandaged it all with a kiss.

"I…might not be able to give you that…"

"And why not?"

Her voice carried a petulant tone. But Sonic was used to this. He got a lot of this from Schiza. He got a lot of this from other girls he protected over the course of many years.

"Because…I really…I just can't be with you forever, Annabelle. It's a bit of a complicated explanation. I don't know if you would be able to understand it, but…"

"Never mind that then, Sonic. Can you give me a bedtime story? Or a lullaby? You can surely do that, can you?"

And again, the smile, the kind, innocent smile Annabelle grew to love, it was back, as he picked up the little girl from her bed, his gentle, warm arms lulling her to a sense of relaxation, as she could see the tips of his jade-cutted eyes, and he rocked her gently, as he sang "Baa Baa Black Sheep".

He could see her eyes becoming dimmer, the eyelids becoming heavier as she reached towards him, stroking his muzzle, petting him behind the ears, Sonic purring softly as he continued to hum and croon, the little girl becoming so softened, so relaxed, her fragile heart put to ease, that she fell asleep in Sonic's arms, and with a kiss on top of the head and a smooth landing on her bed, Sonic tucked her in, and listened to her breathe, contemplating everything about this girl. Everything that he was worried about.

And she went to bed (with no harnesses and no completely pitch-black room, but a nightlight in one corner giving her white veiled luminescence) that night, happy, with a smile on her face. She thought it had been so long since that has ever happened to her, so long ago since she was kissed goodnight by the nicest people in the world, her father and mother and Sonic, the guardian who watched over her that night, his eyes like a hatchetblade through the night, through the monsters who dared to take her away.

But he knew with someone who had so much skill, so much promise, there would be more for her to deal with, more for her to face. And he felt her heart beating, the wonderful colors it was surrounded with, the illuminating creations she had stored inside of her, with both her wonderful, mentally ill brain, and her wonderful, fragile heart that Sonic knew that anything could break it, even such a sorrowful event that he could tell was on the way, that she needed to learn the consequences of having this incredible power, this influence to sway so many people, so many loves and fortunes and lords and gods, like her parents, like the gods that Sonic had to deal with back home. Yes, this little girl was more powerful than Zeus, more powerful than Amaterasu, more powerful than Brahma and maybe even Christ. Her hands had a thousand lightning bolts scarred across it, her eyes sent him a shock down his whole soul, and her brain, how it leaped from once concept to the next so fluently…

The little girl was going to have a terrible, but fulfilling life.

And as she slept quietly in her bed, so soothed by Sonic simply being there for her, he crooned a song for her softly, lulling her to a deep sleep. And he thought she needed all the sleep she could get before he would give her all these tragic, but fulfilling decisions.