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THE DAY AFTER
3. The attempt.
[AMY, Sean Catlett]
Hearing Tails' head hit the pavement again just confirmed my own theories on life and existence, that this place IS actually one big toilet with no place to drain. The stink is unbearable and it permeates all porous surfaces, but it's all too repulsive to notice what happens, the nerves already shot from over use.
Tails, at least to me, is an exception of sorts. He is not the rule of the world. His kind, endangered. The demons that are all to common to be called rare or unique or frequent outnumber the rest. I see this shit go on everyday, everywhere I go.
Every day a little part of me is killed along with them.
I sympathize. Really, I do. Even when they leave and the aftermath is spilling on the streets, when all I want to do is comfort Tails . . . all I can think about is my problems and the trouble at home.
"Home."
Fuck this.
I shouldn't have come.
I want to leave. Leave, leave, leave.
Instead, I get up from my crouch and I walk up to Tails, calling his name a couple of times, as if I heard his voice from the street. He gets up and meets eyes with mine for a split second, but then looks down at the concrete, himself beneath him, all dignity gone. He tries to salvage as much as he can in front of me, wiping his face, all trace of what happened covered up in a hurry.
Never more do I want to die. Right now. A meteor or something. COME ON!
I'm an arms length away from him when I stop. Nothing happens. No giant flaming sword or hell with high waters. No fire and brimstone.No mercy killing.
Nothing.
Then I help him up, awkwardly, only holding his arms. Minimizing bodily contact. Trying not give off the wrong vibe . . .
What the fuck?! Wrong vibe? Tails would never do that to me . . . . not like . . . .
My hands drop to my sides. I'm breathing heavily. Fuck no, not now, not now . . .
gradually the thoughts are staring to degrade
"Hi Tails."
Rouge . . . . . .
"Hi, Amy . . . . . haven't got a tissue, have you?"
Ah. Yes, the ever-present light attitude. Good. That's good. Funny. Ha ha. Rouge might die. It's a joke. Laugh.
A second passes, and still all I can say is "Tails?"
"What?"
"Tails."
None of you know. None of you know what I have to go through, every single day of my worthless life. Pity won't work here. Sympathy won't work here. Confessions maybe.
"You know I should have finished hours ago."
Oh . . . . Oh yeah.
I need to share this with someone, ANYONE. I'll unload on a fucking dildo if I had the money for batteries! FUCK!
"What's the matter, Amy? You look like you've seen a corpse in your bed or something."
Where's a fucking meteor when you need one?
________________________
No shit.
I try to manipulate my mask so that it doesn't hide my frustration. He doesn't look convinced.
"You really have no idea."
I suppose I should have expected this attitude, this 'not knowing how to act,' attitude. Why the hell should the story of my life rewrite itself.
"I suppose not." My voice sounds so mad, but the rest is numb.
This didn't go as planned. I told him what was happening; the phone calls, the murders, the hunger, the starvation. The insanity.
He may as well had laughed at me.
"So… Rouge has tried to kill herself, and you've come to me about it?"
I just think you're scared, Tails.
"Well… who was I supposed to see?"
You're a scared little boy, Tails. The world changes you more and more every time I talk to you. I'm too late. Too late . . .
"Did you think of the police?"
The police.They have a file of the incident. You know, the rape. When I was fucked. Yeah, that. And they never want me to forget it. Ever. I'm the world's punch line.
I tell Tails to fuck off or something. I don't know.
I just want this over with . . .
"Look, to be perfectly honest, I want to help, but I really don't know what you expect me to do.I mean, it's not MY adopted mother we're talking about here. If it was, I may have some idea, because then I'd HAVE to. But I don't. So, Amy, I'm sorry, bla bla bla bla bla." Did he say this? Is he making fun of me?
"Fuck, Tails, you're the brains. YOU think of something."The throw goes wild.
"Are you serious?" Exasperation. Did I upset him? What the fuck is going on?
What's wrong with me?
Then he gives me this trip about how much trouble he is in for associating with me. It's the reason we haven't spoken in over two weeks. His parents. Those bastards.
He's afraid of what they'll take away from him.
I guess that's what it comes down to. Attrition. I guess losing Rouge is preferable to losing his computer. It must be all he has left.
Well, Rouge is all I have left. Why can't he understand this?
The rest of the conversation is a blur that I don't want to remember correctly. Insults are thrown back and forth like a game of tennis.
But fuck, Tails, this is Rouge we're talking about!! She'd do the same for you!!
No. She's a surrogate mother, nothing more. And I don't know her well enough to give a shit about her. She gave Knuckles a boner because of her tits. Now he's dead and she's crazy. Fuck off. Try the police.
Some time later, when one of us finally walked away, I remember feeling this profound loneliness, out for only myself.
________________________
I reach home, miserable and back to the beginning, worse off than I was before. The door closes and immediately the phone rings.
"FUCK!"
Somewhere else inside the room, Rouge lets out a cry because she knows who it is, as well as I do. I come running over to the phone from the hallway and I dive across to it, yanking hard and ripping the cord out of the wall. Too bad it didn't break, though.
Right then, Rouge comes out, barely covered in ratty, week-old clothing, the bandage on her head stained red, the powder burn, a "Coal Miner's Tattoo"darker than the bleak black of the apartment.
She gives me this warm, barely visible smile, laced with brain damage. It's hardly comforting.
I hug the phone to myself, to fight off the chills. It's so cold.
"Thanks," she says. "That's been bugging me all week," she says.
"Week?" My God. Where had I been?
"Yeah." She crosses her arms. "They want to reach me. It's something big." She shivers too, and collapses to the floor, almost sobbing.
"Maybe they just want you back . . . ."
" . . . . No. This isn't right. It's something about . . ."
Something about what?
WHAT?! TELL ME!!
Nothing.
I know that she's thinking about HIM again. It's the only thing on her broken mind anymore. The only thing that sticks . . .
This entire situation is really fucked up.
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