Chapter 5: Solitude...
I'm all locked up in this dark place
And I do not know I'm as good as dead
My head aches---Warped and tied up
I need to kill this pain
---Dave Matthews Band "Rhyme and Reason"
Oh God...
I always heard 'silence is golden'. This silence was not. People would pay to be rid of this maddening silence. But I had no way out. The doors were thick and heavy, and the locks unyielding. No windows meant no sun, which led to an unusual depression on my part. I hardly ever got sun in Robotropolis, why should it bother me here?
It was three weeks from when I had been dragged from my cell. How could a short time period drag out so long? It felt like years, long silent years...
I never knew solitary confinement was so bad.
It doesn't sound like it would be hard. I never had good companions anyway. Robotnik, how can I even consider him a companion? He was a slave-driver, the keeper of pain...not a friend. But still, it was interaction, conversation with somebody.
The padded walls, the metal door, the toilet in the corner...they were hated in my eyes. I couldn't stand to look at them anymore. But I had to. There was nothing else.
Sounds silly, but I was thinking death would be better than staring at these walls a second longer.
I could feel myself coming apart... But this wasn't the first time I'd felt like this.
I suppose I unraveled over the course of my life in the city. Mentally, I mean. Every day a tiny thread of my sanity would come loose. On bad days it would split and come undone, leaving all sorts of frayed ends. I could've killed myself some of those days...
I've contemplated suicide an astonishing number of times; the number must be nearing the thousands. But really, I think I coped well. Anyone else in my shoes would've flung themselves off Robotropolis's highest tower. I've thought of that before. I don't think it would hurt. I heard you faint on the way down. -Bam- When you hit, you're already out cold. And then you're out forever.
But I never did. Why? Because I have this strange fear of death. A cruel fear, considering how terrible this life is...
Robotnik...he could never understand my depression. I got depressed rarely, maybe three times a year. When I got depressed I sunk so low, even my mother couldn't touch me.
Robotnik hated it when I was in one of my deep slides. He'd growl at me, and slap me, but I wouldn't even bat one wispy eyelash at him. I could hardly lift my head, and my cheeks felt all stiff from dried tears. I just stared silently at my surroundings, my mind curling into a tight little ball inside me.
I would run my fingers along the laser pistol in my belt, trying to get up enough courage to take it out, put it against my head and just do it. But I never could. As hard as I tried to convince myself that I needed out, I couldn't take it, I didn't deserve this world...I just couldn't. Why? Why couldn't I? I'd get so angry, and my bitter tears would splash the floor. I'd hurt myself instead, punching the wall, taking the razor I didn't even use to shave...and slicing little nicks in my elbow against the bone, or in the soft pad of my hand. Sometimes I'd smear my hands against the wall and just stare at the red slash that didn't do my inner pain justice. None of my outer pain could even compare to the turmoil within... Then I'd let the blood dry, and it looked pretty awful.
But after awhile, I'd wash it off, because I didn't want Robotnik to see the evidence of my madness...I'd wash it away, and the cuts would be just a little bit red, hardly noticeable.
Those crazy things...to look at me you wouldn't think I was capable of those things. But there was a door only depression could unlock, and what lay behind it was strange urges to destroy myself to escape, or at least hurt my body in hopes of driving the inner pain away.
But I had no means of cutting now. I don't know if I wanted to. It sounded sick when I thought of it. But when I had that blade in my hand, I knew the power of the cut... It made me feel better. I could focus on that stinging and let my inner turmoil fade away...
I felt tired suddenly. Good. Sleep is an escape.
Robotnik was dead! Dead, finally. Robotropolis was mine, and rightfully so. This was a dream, though, wasn't it? But it had been reality for a while...
Bah, dream or not, the city was mine. Even when Robotnik was alive, I'd practically ran the place myself. I had no worries without him. I wouldn't have any trouble dealing with those rebel brats.
I love revenge, for sure, but Robotnik always thought revenge had to be elaborate. So he'd capture the hedgehog or princess or whoever, and stage some big trap (like that stupid pinball game) in hopes of humiliating the captive and then killing them. But it never worked! One thing you cannot give those Freedom Fighters is time. With time, they can break any bond, escape any trap...
And they did.
For months, the city was mine. The Freedom Fighters tried in vain to trash my factories. They underestimated me.
The surveillance monitors showed blood one foggy morning. One of their group was down. It was the sweet rabbit. My improved robots had ripped her metallic limbs off her body. I watched her struggle to escape, feeling almost sorry for her. She pulled herself forward with her flesh arm, continuing even as the 'bots powered up their weapons.
The princess, hedgehog, and French fox arrived on the scene. But they were too late. I saw their mouths fly open in horror; even I winced as the powerful blast blew her head to scattered pieces.
"NOOOOOO!" The princess screamed.
I saw the fury in the hedgehog's eyes. He rushed the robots, but not before they got another shot in.
The French fox let out a short yelp, his hands flailing at his chest. I nearly covered my eyes, stomach clenching. His entire chest was blown open...I even saw his heart pulsing for one instant before he collapsed.
I turned off the monitor. I knew Sonic would be going berserk, trashing everything in sight.
Suddenly, everything shifted. Bright lights... I was dizzy... Then I felt grit beneath me.
Shit. I was outside! I heard the squeal of metal being cut apart. My breath whistled in that familiar frantic way. That sound meant the hedgehog was near.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned. The princess stood there, but just for a second. Then she barreled towards me. I turned to run...NO! My feet, they were stuck!
She tackled me and I hit the ground, crying like a baby. There was a loud -crack- and I knew my arm was broken; I landed on it wrong.
She kicked me hard.
Sonic came around the corner. "Well, well, if it ain't Needlenose." He kicked me too and I screamed in pain.
He laughed.
"Don't...don't hurt me..."
"We won't." Another kick. "We'll just kill ya."
This...this isn't like them. They aren't supposed to be mean.
Sonic nudged me with his foot, rolling me onto my back. His foot came to rest on my stomach in a classic victory pose.
Sally was holding a sword. I guess she took it from the French fox.
"Hold him down, Sonic." She raised the sword.
I struggled, but the hedgehog suddenly weighed a ton.
The sword came down.
There was incredible pain, all through me...like stars or lightning...dazzling with its intensity. I heard screaming from far off, it sounded like me...
There was a smell like copper, no, blood...
God, I'm dying...
Blackness swept over me.
"Wake up..." I jerked awake, but could not move. The hedgehog and squirrel's face leered down at me.
I tried to move again, but couldn't. My whole body hurt, but I couldn't feel my right arm, or my two legs...
"Have a look at yourself," said Sally. She held a mirror up high so I could see my body.
I was like Bunnie at her last moments. How brutally those robots had ripped off her arm and her legs...
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"
"What you did to Bunnie. And now we're gonna take the rest of you apart, piece by piece."
"You...you can't be serious!"
"Oh, but I am." She drew out a knife. "What first, Sonic? His nose, eyes, ears, heart? I know. Let's have ourselves a little weenie roast first." Her smile was sadistic as she turned away from me. I heard a weird -foom- noise and then she turned back with a blowtorch in hand.
"A weenie roast? Sounds fun. And tasty." Sonic laughed nastily.
She moved the torch towards my belly, but lower...
"NOOOOOO!" I rolled over and hit something soft. I opened my eyes and saw padding. Padded walls. I still had my arms, my legs. Still had everything.
I blew out a ragged breath and wiped the sweat from my brow. My ears caught a tapping noise. I looked up to see Marshe peering through the tiny window in the door.
"Bad dreams?" he asked. I could barely hear him through the thick glass.
"Let me out," I said.
"Eat me." He closed his eyes and licked the glass. I scowled at the wet trail his tongue left.
"Give me a little spit-shine and I'll let you out." He winked.
The padded walls, the toilet, him... I felt my temper flee.
"Let me out! Let me out, YOU BASTARD!"
I kicked the door as hard as I could. It sent shock waves up my leg. "OPEN THIS DOOR, YOU PRICK! I'LL KILL YOU!"
The door suddenly opened.
"You wanna fight somebody? Try me."
I punched him. It hurt my hand, but not him, because he just laughed.
He punched me back. My head snapped to the side. I tried to dodge around him, but he punched again, low to my belly. He threw me to the floor and pounded my ribs.
He dragged me up again. I struggled fiercely, but it was a joke. He drove the air from me with a bear hug and then kicked me in the nuts.
I hit the padded floor again, gasping. "Stop...stop!"
"Oh poor baby, oh he's crying, let me wipe away those tears." He laughed and poked me in the eye.
"You prick!" I slapped at him, my unkempt nails scratching him.
He seemed astonished, touching his cheek and staring at the blood on his fingers. "You little animal!" he chuckled.
Then he beat the shit out of me.
He finally left. I curled up on the floor, eyes closed. "Uh...oh God," I whimpered to myself, but didn't move. It hurt to move. Hurt enough to make me scream.
It even hurt to breathe. That bastard, he'd probably broken some of my ribs. He wasn't like Robotnik. Robotnik never broke me deliberately; he needed me to work. He wanted me hurt, but not crippled. But like his rage, he could never control his strength.
I shifted a little. The pain hit like a hammer, making me gasp as I almost passed out. Passing out was so strange. Like falling into a different world. A better world, perhaps...
In a way, this pain isn't so bad. God, it hurts, it hurts badly...but like those crazy cuts, it dulled my thoughts, any inner turmoil. The walls and the toilet didn't seem so maddening now. They weren't the only things to focus on now.
Over the next half-hour, I managed to sit up. My prison grays were torn on the arms and on one leg. The collar was ripped too.
That dumb asshole. I gritted my teeth. He'll be the first one to kill when I take over Robotropolis.
I looked at my skin through the rips. On my left arm, I saw a faint scar. Ah yes, a surgery scar. I had plenty of those. The Medibots were always patching me up after Robotnik wrecked me. I remember how I got this one. It had been a compound fracture; bone broken and jutting out of my skin, blood everywhere...
I unzipped my uniform to see my belly. Some were more visible, others just traces. But I knew they were there. I had scars all over my belly; I must've been cut open more than fifty times.
Robotnik, he never seemed to understand the damage he did with just one punch to my stomach. He ruptured things, smashed things. I'm surprised any of my internal organs still work.
The Medibots never made mistakes with the 'repairs', but they often didn't keep me knocked out long enough.
I remember a time when that happened...
The light...it was so bright, seared my eyes. They felt almost cooked. And the air, instead of just blowing over my skin, it felt like an invader ripping through me.
I finally could stand to open my eyes. I saw the Medibots with their busy hands, saw them holding scalpels covered in blood. Then I saw my body, all opened up. I couldn't make out parts, just red slimey tissue, like packaged meat...
I screamed. And screamed.
The Medibots scurried frantically. I thrashed just as frantically. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Robotnik standing near the door.
"Help...help me..." I gasped.
A plastic mask was clamped over my face.
"Relax. Breathe in," The Medibots droned.
I listened to them. All was well. I fell unconscious again and awoke to find a new, neat scar on my belly.
Robotnik was sitting in a chair, his bulk overflowing from it. "You're fine," he said. Not quite a question, but I answered anyway.
"I guess, now..." What else could I say? He wouldn't want to hear me whine and complain. I felt sore and tired.
"I didn't mean to...do this," he muttered, so low I barely heard it.
"What?"
He stood up, almost too fast. "If you're fine, then get back to work," he snapped at me.
I pulled myself out of the memory. He did not apologize. I was delirious then, all drugged out from the operation. He never apologized. I imagined it.
The bastard never gave a damn. I'm not perfect. I don't think I'd want me in my family if I were someone else. But still, I was his blood. We were related, tied by the same woman. The glorious Fala, his sister, my mother. He might not have liked me, but in honor of his sister, he could've treated me better.
The same with the piece of shit I had to call father. He claimed to have loved my mama, indeed, he did, but how come he never loved me... I was a part of her, a part of him even...
He made me this way. He made me pathetic. And my mama, she betrayed me with her weakness. She was too weak to stop him when he came after me. Too weak to live when I needed her most.
She tried, but she failed. They both failed, both of my parents. My siblings, they were all damn idiots too, but they weren't screwed like me. Oh no, pops -liked- them.
I stopped suddenly and just threw myself at the wall. The pain hit me hard and I whimpered. A rib had to be broken. My body was bruised and my nose clogged with blood and now all I could feel was the pain again.
How it hurt...but how it soothed. Smoothed away those memories, smoothed away the world into a flat dimension with room for only one focal point.
I'm not a...I can't be a masochist... I just can't. I don't like to hurt. But sometimes pain can dull pain; outer pain dulls inner pain. And vice versa. But inner pain is so much worse.
It would've been better if I had been a masochist. Life with Robotnik and Packbell would've been sheer heaven!
Sometimes, though, I had almost a...need to be hit. It wasn't that I liked the pain, but...
It scared me in a way, because feeling that was not normal, I knew. But sometimes, when I was cowering away from a fuming Robotnik, and he was about to really let me have it, sometimes I felt like...like I wanted him to hit me. Sometimes I almost felt disappointed if he didn't.
It was almost arousing in a way, because all this tension would build up. Is he going to hit me...or not? The tension would stretch tight like a rubberband...with the shadow of his fist on me, and me shaking and trembling.
When he finally did hit me, I swear, sometimes it would actually feel...not good, but satisfying. Like a parent with a missing child, when they finally find out what's happened, even if it's death, they are somehow satisfied. It was a satisfaction like that.
Hell, what am I getting at? That I don't like pain, but I'm satisfied when I get hurt, because that's what I'm used to? It's my security. It's what I lived with all my life, and I don't like it, but it's almost what keeps me sane.
I felt a tear slide down my face and then heard a tapping on the door.
Smiley was looking through and he frowned at me. I heard the clink of his keys in the lock, and the door opened.
In one hand he held a bowl of goop.
"What happened to ya?" he asked.
I didn't answer him, just curled up again.
"What's ya problem? Here's ya food." He nudged me with his foot. "Solitary getting to ya, huh?"
"Leave me alone."
"What happened to ya clothes?"
"It was Marshe," I mumbled.
"Did ya say Marshe?"
"Yes, now leave me alone."
"Fine." He set the bowl in the opposite corner and left.
I didn't touch it for a while. But finally, I got hungry. It was cold by then, and tasted horrible.
I was eating it when I heard loud voices. I recognized the bawdy growl of Marshe, and the other sounded like Smiley. I could've been mistaken; the door was thick and sound not easily heard. They must've been talking very loud, maybe even shouting. At any rate, it was not a pleasant conversation.
"Ya can't keep doing that, Marshe! Treating him like that."
"Act like you like the creep. What's your deal?!"
"I don't, but..."
"He's a frickin' traitor, plus an Overlander...those bastards are the reason your mother died, Smiley! 'Sides, you know he's gonna get death anyway, so who cares what happens to him?"
"The princess strictly forbade abuse of the prisoners, that's what she said. Mark my words, ya keep messin' with him, and ya're gonna get in trouble!"
"She ain't here. Whatcha gonna do, rat me out? Some friend."
"Shut up, ya damn fool. You know I'm on ya side. That's why I'm tellin' ya to stop. I won't rat ya out, but he will, soon as he sees the princess."
"Who she gonna believe, that little prick, or me? Me, course."
"Whatever. Just tone it down a little, ok?"
I saw Smiley's face peer into my window. "Quit smirking in there. This is ya last day in there, but ya try any shit again and ya right back in there."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
I'm all locked up in this dark place
And I do not know I'm as good as dead
My head aches---Warped and tied up
I need to kill this pain
---Dave Matthews Band "Rhyme and Reason"
Oh God...
I always heard 'silence is golden'. This silence was not. People would pay to be rid of this maddening silence. But I had no way out. The doors were thick and heavy, and the locks unyielding. No windows meant no sun, which led to an unusual depression on my part. I hardly ever got sun in Robotropolis, why should it bother me here?
It was three weeks from when I had been dragged from my cell. How could a short time period drag out so long? It felt like years, long silent years...
I never knew solitary confinement was so bad.
It doesn't sound like it would be hard. I never had good companions anyway. Robotnik, how can I even consider him a companion? He was a slave-driver, the keeper of pain...not a friend. But still, it was interaction, conversation with somebody.
The padded walls, the metal door, the toilet in the corner...they were hated in my eyes. I couldn't stand to look at them anymore. But I had to. There was nothing else.
Sounds silly, but I was thinking death would be better than staring at these walls a second longer.
I could feel myself coming apart... But this wasn't the first time I'd felt like this.
I suppose I unraveled over the course of my life in the city. Mentally, I mean. Every day a tiny thread of my sanity would come loose. On bad days it would split and come undone, leaving all sorts of frayed ends. I could've killed myself some of those days...
I've contemplated suicide an astonishing number of times; the number must be nearing the thousands. But really, I think I coped well. Anyone else in my shoes would've flung themselves off Robotropolis's highest tower. I've thought of that before. I don't think it would hurt. I heard you faint on the way down. -Bam- When you hit, you're already out cold. And then you're out forever.
But I never did. Why? Because I have this strange fear of death. A cruel fear, considering how terrible this life is...
Robotnik...he could never understand my depression. I got depressed rarely, maybe three times a year. When I got depressed I sunk so low, even my mother couldn't touch me.
Robotnik hated it when I was in one of my deep slides. He'd growl at me, and slap me, but I wouldn't even bat one wispy eyelash at him. I could hardly lift my head, and my cheeks felt all stiff from dried tears. I just stared silently at my surroundings, my mind curling into a tight little ball inside me.
I would run my fingers along the laser pistol in my belt, trying to get up enough courage to take it out, put it against my head and just do it. But I never could. As hard as I tried to convince myself that I needed out, I couldn't take it, I didn't deserve this world...I just couldn't. Why? Why couldn't I? I'd get so angry, and my bitter tears would splash the floor. I'd hurt myself instead, punching the wall, taking the razor I didn't even use to shave...and slicing little nicks in my elbow against the bone, or in the soft pad of my hand. Sometimes I'd smear my hands against the wall and just stare at the red slash that didn't do my inner pain justice. None of my outer pain could even compare to the turmoil within... Then I'd let the blood dry, and it looked pretty awful.
But after awhile, I'd wash it off, because I didn't want Robotnik to see the evidence of my madness...I'd wash it away, and the cuts would be just a little bit red, hardly noticeable.
Those crazy things...to look at me you wouldn't think I was capable of those things. But there was a door only depression could unlock, and what lay behind it was strange urges to destroy myself to escape, or at least hurt my body in hopes of driving the inner pain away.
But I had no means of cutting now. I don't know if I wanted to. It sounded sick when I thought of it. But when I had that blade in my hand, I knew the power of the cut... It made me feel better. I could focus on that stinging and let my inner turmoil fade away...
I felt tired suddenly. Good. Sleep is an escape.
Robotnik was dead! Dead, finally. Robotropolis was mine, and rightfully so. This was a dream, though, wasn't it? But it had been reality for a while...
Bah, dream or not, the city was mine. Even when Robotnik was alive, I'd practically ran the place myself. I had no worries without him. I wouldn't have any trouble dealing with those rebel brats.
I love revenge, for sure, but Robotnik always thought revenge had to be elaborate. So he'd capture the hedgehog or princess or whoever, and stage some big trap (like that stupid pinball game) in hopes of humiliating the captive and then killing them. But it never worked! One thing you cannot give those Freedom Fighters is time. With time, they can break any bond, escape any trap...
And they did.
For months, the city was mine. The Freedom Fighters tried in vain to trash my factories. They underestimated me.
The surveillance monitors showed blood one foggy morning. One of their group was down. It was the sweet rabbit. My improved robots had ripped her metallic limbs off her body. I watched her struggle to escape, feeling almost sorry for her. She pulled herself forward with her flesh arm, continuing even as the 'bots powered up their weapons.
The princess, hedgehog, and French fox arrived on the scene. But they were too late. I saw their mouths fly open in horror; even I winced as the powerful blast blew her head to scattered pieces.
"NOOOOOO!" The princess screamed.
I saw the fury in the hedgehog's eyes. He rushed the robots, but not before they got another shot in.
The French fox let out a short yelp, his hands flailing at his chest. I nearly covered my eyes, stomach clenching. His entire chest was blown open...I even saw his heart pulsing for one instant before he collapsed.
I turned off the monitor. I knew Sonic would be going berserk, trashing everything in sight.
Suddenly, everything shifted. Bright lights... I was dizzy... Then I felt grit beneath me.
Shit. I was outside! I heard the squeal of metal being cut apart. My breath whistled in that familiar frantic way. That sound meant the hedgehog was near.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned. The princess stood there, but just for a second. Then she barreled towards me. I turned to run...NO! My feet, they were stuck!
She tackled me and I hit the ground, crying like a baby. There was a loud -crack- and I knew my arm was broken; I landed on it wrong.
She kicked me hard.
Sonic came around the corner. "Well, well, if it ain't Needlenose." He kicked me too and I screamed in pain.
He laughed.
"Don't...don't hurt me..."
"We won't." Another kick. "We'll just kill ya."
This...this isn't like them. They aren't supposed to be mean.
Sonic nudged me with his foot, rolling me onto my back. His foot came to rest on my stomach in a classic victory pose.
Sally was holding a sword. I guess she took it from the French fox.
"Hold him down, Sonic." She raised the sword.
I struggled, but the hedgehog suddenly weighed a ton.
The sword came down.
There was incredible pain, all through me...like stars or lightning...dazzling with its intensity. I heard screaming from far off, it sounded like me...
There was a smell like copper, no, blood...
God, I'm dying...
Blackness swept over me.
"Wake up..." I jerked awake, but could not move. The hedgehog and squirrel's face leered down at me.
I tried to move again, but couldn't. My whole body hurt, but I couldn't feel my right arm, or my two legs...
"Have a look at yourself," said Sally. She held a mirror up high so I could see my body.
I was like Bunnie at her last moments. How brutally those robots had ripped off her arm and her legs...
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!"
"What you did to Bunnie. And now we're gonna take the rest of you apart, piece by piece."
"You...you can't be serious!"
"Oh, but I am." She drew out a knife. "What first, Sonic? His nose, eyes, ears, heart? I know. Let's have ourselves a little weenie roast first." Her smile was sadistic as she turned away from me. I heard a weird -foom- noise and then she turned back with a blowtorch in hand.
"A weenie roast? Sounds fun. And tasty." Sonic laughed nastily.
She moved the torch towards my belly, but lower...
"NOOOOOO!" I rolled over and hit something soft. I opened my eyes and saw padding. Padded walls. I still had my arms, my legs. Still had everything.
I blew out a ragged breath and wiped the sweat from my brow. My ears caught a tapping noise. I looked up to see Marshe peering through the tiny window in the door.
"Bad dreams?" he asked. I could barely hear him through the thick glass.
"Let me out," I said.
"Eat me." He closed his eyes and licked the glass. I scowled at the wet trail his tongue left.
"Give me a little spit-shine and I'll let you out." He winked.
The padded walls, the toilet, him... I felt my temper flee.
"Let me out! Let me out, YOU BASTARD!"
I kicked the door as hard as I could. It sent shock waves up my leg. "OPEN THIS DOOR, YOU PRICK! I'LL KILL YOU!"
The door suddenly opened.
"You wanna fight somebody? Try me."
I punched him. It hurt my hand, but not him, because he just laughed.
He punched me back. My head snapped to the side. I tried to dodge around him, but he punched again, low to my belly. He threw me to the floor and pounded my ribs.
He dragged me up again. I struggled fiercely, but it was a joke. He drove the air from me with a bear hug and then kicked me in the nuts.
I hit the padded floor again, gasping. "Stop...stop!"
"Oh poor baby, oh he's crying, let me wipe away those tears." He laughed and poked me in the eye.
"You prick!" I slapped at him, my unkempt nails scratching him.
He seemed astonished, touching his cheek and staring at the blood on his fingers. "You little animal!" he chuckled.
Then he beat the shit out of me.
He finally left. I curled up on the floor, eyes closed. "Uh...oh God," I whimpered to myself, but didn't move. It hurt to move. Hurt enough to make me scream.
It even hurt to breathe. That bastard, he'd probably broken some of my ribs. He wasn't like Robotnik. Robotnik never broke me deliberately; he needed me to work. He wanted me hurt, but not crippled. But like his rage, he could never control his strength.
I shifted a little. The pain hit like a hammer, making me gasp as I almost passed out. Passing out was so strange. Like falling into a different world. A better world, perhaps...
In a way, this pain isn't so bad. God, it hurts, it hurts badly...but like those crazy cuts, it dulled my thoughts, any inner turmoil. The walls and the toilet didn't seem so maddening now. They weren't the only things to focus on now.
Over the next half-hour, I managed to sit up. My prison grays were torn on the arms and on one leg. The collar was ripped too.
That dumb asshole. I gritted my teeth. He'll be the first one to kill when I take over Robotropolis.
I looked at my skin through the rips. On my left arm, I saw a faint scar. Ah yes, a surgery scar. I had plenty of those. The Medibots were always patching me up after Robotnik wrecked me. I remember how I got this one. It had been a compound fracture; bone broken and jutting out of my skin, blood everywhere...
I unzipped my uniform to see my belly. Some were more visible, others just traces. But I knew they were there. I had scars all over my belly; I must've been cut open more than fifty times.
Robotnik, he never seemed to understand the damage he did with just one punch to my stomach. He ruptured things, smashed things. I'm surprised any of my internal organs still work.
The Medibots never made mistakes with the 'repairs', but they often didn't keep me knocked out long enough.
I remember a time when that happened...
The light...it was so bright, seared my eyes. They felt almost cooked. And the air, instead of just blowing over my skin, it felt like an invader ripping through me.
I finally could stand to open my eyes. I saw the Medibots with their busy hands, saw them holding scalpels covered in blood. Then I saw my body, all opened up. I couldn't make out parts, just red slimey tissue, like packaged meat...
I screamed. And screamed.
The Medibots scurried frantically. I thrashed just as frantically. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Robotnik standing near the door.
"Help...help me..." I gasped.
A plastic mask was clamped over my face.
"Relax. Breathe in," The Medibots droned.
I listened to them. All was well. I fell unconscious again and awoke to find a new, neat scar on my belly.
Robotnik was sitting in a chair, his bulk overflowing from it. "You're fine," he said. Not quite a question, but I answered anyway.
"I guess, now..." What else could I say? He wouldn't want to hear me whine and complain. I felt sore and tired.
"I didn't mean to...do this," he muttered, so low I barely heard it.
"What?"
He stood up, almost too fast. "If you're fine, then get back to work," he snapped at me.
I pulled myself out of the memory. He did not apologize. I was delirious then, all drugged out from the operation. He never apologized. I imagined it.
The bastard never gave a damn. I'm not perfect. I don't think I'd want me in my family if I were someone else. But still, I was his blood. We were related, tied by the same woman. The glorious Fala, his sister, my mother. He might not have liked me, but in honor of his sister, he could've treated me better.
The same with the piece of shit I had to call father. He claimed to have loved my mama, indeed, he did, but how come he never loved me... I was a part of her, a part of him even...
He made me this way. He made me pathetic. And my mama, she betrayed me with her weakness. She was too weak to stop him when he came after me. Too weak to live when I needed her most.
She tried, but she failed. They both failed, both of my parents. My siblings, they were all damn idiots too, but they weren't screwed like me. Oh no, pops -liked- them.
I stopped suddenly and just threw myself at the wall. The pain hit me hard and I whimpered. A rib had to be broken. My body was bruised and my nose clogged with blood and now all I could feel was the pain again.
How it hurt...but how it soothed. Smoothed away those memories, smoothed away the world into a flat dimension with room for only one focal point.
I'm not a...I can't be a masochist... I just can't. I don't like to hurt. But sometimes pain can dull pain; outer pain dulls inner pain. And vice versa. But inner pain is so much worse.
It would've been better if I had been a masochist. Life with Robotnik and Packbell would've been sheer heaven!
Sometimes, though, I had almost a...need to be hit. It wasn't that I liked the pain, but...
It scared me in a way, because feeling that was not normal, I knew. But sometimes, when I was cowering away from a fuming Robotnik, and he was about to really let me have it, sometimes I felt like...like I wanted him to hit me. Sometimes I almost felt disappointed if he didn't.
It was almost arousing in a way, because all this tension would build up. Is he going to hit me...or not? The tension would stretch tight like a rubberband...with the shadow of his fist on me, and me shaking and trembling.
When he finally did hit me, I swear, sometimes it would actually feel...not good, but satisfying. Like a parent with a missing child, when they finally find out what's happened, even if it's death, they are somehow satisfied. It was a satisfaction like that.
Hell, what am I getting at? That I don't like pain, but I'm satisfied when I get hurt, because that's what I'm used to? It's my security. It's what I lived with all my life, and I don't like it, but it's almost what keeps me sane.
I felt a tear slide down my face and then heard a tapping on the door.
Smiley was looking through and he frowned at me. I heard the clink of his keys in the lock, and the door opened.
In one hand he held a bowl of goop.
"What happened to ya?" he asked.
I didn't answer him, just curled up again.
"What's ya problem? Here's ya food." He nudged me with his foot. "Solitary getting to ya, huh?"
"Leave me alone."
"What happened to ya clothes?"
"It was Marshe," I mumbled.
"Did ya say Marshe?"
"Yes, now leave me alone."
"Fine." He set the bowl in the opposite corner and left.
I didn't touch it for a while. But finally, I got hungry. It was cold by then, and tasted horrible.
I was eating it when I heard loud voices. I recognized the bawdy growl of Marshe, and the other sounded like Smiley. I could've been mistaken; the door was thick and sound not easily heard. They must've been talking very loud, maybe even shouting. At any rate, it was not a pleasant conversation.
"Ya can't keep doing that, Marshe! Treating him like that."
"Act like you like the creep. What's your deal?!"
"I don't, but..."
"He's a frickin' traitor, plus an Overlander...those bastards are the reason your mother died, Smiley! 'Sides, you know he's gonna get death anyway, so who cares what happens to him?"
"The princess strictly forbade abuse of the prisoners, that's what she said. Mark my words, ya keep messin' with him, and ya're gonna get in trouble!"
"She ain't here. Whatcha gonna do, rat me out? Some friend."
"Shut up, ya damn fool. You know I'm on ya side. That's why I'm tellin' ya to stop. I won't rat ya out, but he will, soon as he sees the princess."
"Who she gonna believe, that little prick, or me? Me, course."
"Whatever. Just tone it down a little, ok?"
I saw Smiley's face peer into my window. "Quit smirking in there. This is ya last day in there, but ya try any shit again and ya right back in there."
I breathed a sigh of relief.