OK! This little epilogue is for all those sonamy fans out there who were confused about the ending of A Love Of Two Hedgehogs! I'll admit, that was a little confusing, but did you people even read my comment at the end? With all the confused reviewers, I felt like Hideaki Anno—creator of Evangelion with the confusing ending. No matter how many times I watch it, I still don't get it. Anyway, aren't you people glad I was able to answer your cries for another chapter? Actually...This is really just an English short story project and I couldn't come up with an idea... Oh well, you guys don't mind, right? I'm so proud of myself...My English teacher loves this story...Yet she still reminds me of Mrs. Puff from Spongebob...And my science teacher reminds me of Lindsay Lohan! X)

To reviewer panther9t: XD Eh...Sorry, you did sound like a girl, I admit. Good thing you mentioned it... It's really easy to enter fanfics. First, you type up the document (just check what programs FFN'll accept. Or, you can always make it a text document). Then, login to FFN and go to "document manager". From there, you should see a screen asking the name of the document, title, and what format you want it in (poetry or story). Once the document is uploaded successfully, you go to "create story", select everything appropriately, and when you're done and have submitted everything, it should say at the top of the next screen, "story uploaded successfully" or something like that. You're welcome. If you're still having problems, E-Mail me.

To reviewer Granny: bricks granny Nyah! Leave Amy alone! I didn't mean to kill her...lol

A LOVE OF TWO HEDGEHOGS—Epilogue

The peal of the bells annoys me. Why am I even here—staring at some wooden case with nothing of importance in it—anymore.

I'm standing in this dreaded place for no reason. Why'd I come? It's not like I have anything to pay tribute to. What I thought was love was only infatuation—the hollow emotion that ninety-nine percent of us think is love when we feel it. And now she's gone.

After Tails and I finished paying our respects, we went back to my house to relax. We sat in the living room, silent for a long while.

"I'm really sorry, Sonic..."

I looked up. Tails had broken the silence, almost making me jump even though his voice was low.

"Sorry for what?" I replied nonchalantly, studying my hands to show my disinterest.

"If I had got to you sooner, maybe she would still be alive..." There were tears in his eyes.

I sighed. "It was as she told me, 'everything comes to an end someday'. The only thing we can do is accept it."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a scowl flash across Tails's features. "You seem awful apathetic about her death. One might think you knew this would happen."

I clicked my tongue. "No one asked your opinion of how I'm reacting."

"If I went to the police, they might!"

I sat up in my chair and glared him in the eye. "I didn't kill her, if that's what you're saying. I was at home all day wondering why she wouldn't answer me on the phone."

"That's what they all say," Tails countered, standing up in frustration. He paused for effect, then continued with his accusation. "You know, I suppose we'll find out if you're telling the truth." He turned to leave.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I yelled, leaping up to dash in front of him.

He narrowed his eyes. "There are ghosts of murder victims that come after their murderers—all types of ghosts that can petrify you to death. If she harbours hate for you, she'll come back for you. Trust me, Sonic." With that, he pushed past me and headed for the door.

"Yeah? There's no such thing as ghosts! And let the door hit you on the way out!" I growled after him.

After hearing the door slam, I trudged up the stairs to the foyer, following in Tails's path. I hurried to the door and locked it, pounding my fist on it after doing so and sliding to the ground. He was wrong. How could he even think that? I'd admit that my mind made me act loony sometimes, but not enough to kill someone. My loony mind made me infatuated with her in the first place.

I got up after a while of lying there at the door and dragged my sorry carcass to the kitchen. I poured myself another drink—a bad idea, yet I did it nonetheless. As I lifted the glass to my lips, I heard a scratching noise.

I put the glass down and stepped out of the kitchen to see what had made the noise. On seeing nothing, I turned back around, but no sooner had I spun on my foot than I heard a loud scraping like that of furniture being moved. I froze, petrified. All was not right, and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Tails couldn't be right, surely.

I rushed back into the kitchen and poured what I had been about to drink down the drain. That had to be it—I was on the verge of being drunk, and shock was playing tricks on my mind. I poured myself a glass of water instead and went to sit in the living room once more. To my great surprise, as I stepped into the room, I tripped over something. The water spilled and the glass broke after flying from my hand. I watched as the many shards created a dangerous path on the carpet where the water was seeping through to the floorboards.

Pushing myself up, I noticed that I had tripped over a footstool that was suddenly out of place. Surveying the room, it was evident that everything had been moved. I had only been in here a few minutes ago, and all had been in order then. My mind wasn't playing tricks anymore.

Trying to dismiss the daunting fact, I bent over to pick up the stool, but as I lay my hands on it, it felt very warm. Why? I stepped over it and moved to sit in my favourite armchair, but I leapt up when I found it was searing hot. As I puzzled over the enigma of my living room, I felt something whoosh over my head and saw it break the glass window that led to the patio. Someone, or something, had picked up my sofa and thrown it. Slowly, I turned around.

I jumped in surprise and fell back into my armchair, no longer caring how hot it was. As far as I was concerned, it was only comforting for the sudden chill I felt in my blood.

There she stood—the one whom I had assumed to be my love until her death. The only difference was that now she was missing her head and left arm. I started to calm a little on seeing that she was just standing there, but that didn't deduct from the overall trepidation inside of me brought on by her spectre.

I screwed my eyes shut and started as there was a sudden, ear-splitting scream. I heard footsteps knowing it had to be that thing coming for me. I curled into a ball and covered my ears, just wishing for it all to go away. I uttered the words quickly, letting them roll off my tongue in a whisper that I hoped someone would hear.

The shrill only got louder, and I felt a frigid numbness come over the top of my head, as if icy fingertips were caressing it. Normally something like that would have comforted me, but not now. Soon another voice that was all too familiar joined in the cacophony, but I was unable to identify anything anymore.

My eyelids flickered open on feeling the bright light of morning. I sluggishly withdrew my hands from my head and uncurled from my tight ball. I rubbed my eyes and let them drink in the sight; my living room in disarray. The armchair was no longer hot, yet everything was still out of place.

What had happened last night that left my head reeling with whorls of fear? It hadn't been a dream. How I wish it had. Tails had been right about one thing. She had come back for me, yet I was still here. And that screaming—like that of a banshee. She was calling me to follow her. I refused. Why? Because I don't love her, and I never did... It seems that she'll never get that through her head. Over seven years of chasing after me, and the feelings still aren't mutual.

In my last moments with her at the hospital, she had called me "sweetheart". She hadn't heard my reluctant reply. Maybe...Maybe her spirit was only searching for those words. Three simple words. Unfortunately, I'll never be able to satiate that hunger. I'm so sorry, Amy...