My Heart Doth Wander
Chapter 20 : Realization in Ashes
I want it all to go away
I want to be alone...
Sympathies wasted on my hollow shell
I feel there's nothing left to fight for... No reason for a cause
And I can't hear your voice
And I can't feel you near.
"Lost" – Sarah McLachlan
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------"I love tomato sandwiches, don't you?"
"Yuck! I'd rather have chilidogs!"
Under the autumn sky, free of snow, Doctor Quack was taking his lunch. Tails and his now near-constant companion, Nadie, were sitting opposite him on one of the wooden tables. The leaves above were a rich gold and crimson, rustling slightly in a warm breeze. The snow five days ago was a memory in most people's minds; a fluke indeed. Most were enjoying the blissful days of summers end. The previous atrocities and death were no longer casting a long shadow overhead. But there was still a dark cloud here and there. Dr. Quack imagined there always would be. It was his profession, after all. To stave off death. It was always a lingering shadow in the back of his mind.
Like the warm breeze, the children were a breath of fresh air. They seemed to know worrying was not helpful. They still cared, but they knew dwelling on horrible outcomes or what could happen was exhausting and moot. Quack felt like, when he was around them, he could regain some of that youthful optimism.
"I've never had a tomato before," said Nadie. "What's it like?"
The duck smiled and pulled one of the thick red slices from his sandwich. "Have a taste – if you don't mind the nibble in it."
She took the slice and sniffed it delicately before taking a bite. She wrinkled her nose, a bit of the juice running down her chin.
"Gross, ain't it?" said Tails.
She swallowed and cleaned the juice off with a swipe of her paw. "No...it's different. I'm not sure if I like it or not."
"Not," said Tails.
"Bah," said Quack. "I think Sonic's chilidog sauce has numbed your taste buds, lad."
"I think I like it," said Nadie. She seemed to be in deep concentration, furrowing her brow as she stuffed the rest of the tomato into her mouth and chewed slowly, exploring the flavor. She nodded. "Yes, I do think I like it."
"Very good!" The duck clapped. "There may be hope for one of you, at least."
Tails stuck out his tongue and Nadie laughed.
A few minutes later, Bunnie and Antoine joined the table. They had been out for a walk in the woods and Bunnie had a leaf stuck behind her ear. She was carrying a bouquet of picked flowers. Nadie admired them while Quack unwrapped another sandwich.
"Good day, Monsieur Quack," greeted Antoine and the doctor nodded, his mouth full of food.
"We..." Bunnie cast a tentative look at Nadie, her voice faltering. "We picked these flowers for Lupe. How is she doing?"
Tails seemed suddenly interested in looking anywhere but at the wolf; he stared intently at the sandwich in front of Quack. But Nadie seemed unperturbed.
"Her condition is unchanged." Quack squinted up into the swaying leaves. "But every visit and every kind act..." he nodded towards the flowers, "may bring her a step closer to recovery. Comas are still quite mysterious. We still don't know what exactly brings people out of them. But I hold faith that the spoken word and touch can help..."
"Guide the spirit," said Nadie.
Quack cast her a surprised look.
"Her spirit is detached from her body. A great injury can do that, and it can take a long time to find...a way into the body again."
"My goodness..." Quack scratched at his head. "That's an intriguing outlook on the subject. Most intriguing..."
"I can feel her." The young cub gazed in the direction of the infirmary, her eyes going cloudy. "I can feel her hovering around her body. I don't know if she can hear me. I don't know if I can...make her hear me..."
The group was staring at her, enraptured, disturbed.
"I'll encourage everyone to visit her," said Quack, finally. "We'll let her know that we miss her....maybe she'll find a way back then."
A smile spread across Nadie's face. "Thank you."
"No thanks needed, kiddo. I don't think anyone will mind doing it at all."
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"Ya'll should've heard that kid. She's a real Shaman in the makin'." Bunnie placed the vase of wildflowers by Lupe's bedside.
"Find her way home..." Sally, who had been in the room when Bunnie arrived, mused. "Maybe she doesn't want to."
"Want to what?" The rabbot placed her organic head on Lupe's forehead, tenderly brushing away a stray hair. She traced one finger down the wolf's cheek, smiling sadly. "Such a purty gal...she looks so peaceful."
"Want to come back."
Bunnie looked up, frowning. "What are ya'll talkin' about, Sally-girl? Why wouldn't she want to come back?"
"The flowers are all dead...and it's cold...so cold..."
"It's 60 degrees out," the rabbot replied, looking thoroughly baffled. "Sally, are y'all alraight?"
The squirrel took Lupe's hand in hers, but it was a strangely aloof gesture, lacking its usual warmth and care. Her gaze was equally remote, searching the woman's face. "Why should she return to this place? What's her incentive? There isn't any incentive."
"There's us. We care for her..." Bunnie's confused expression was fading into pain. "We care for her...we LOVE her." She reached across the wolf's prone form, touching her hand to Sally's shoulder. "Ya'll know that, right?"
The squirrel jerked away so violently that she nearly lost her footing. "Love...love doesn't matter..." She turned and fled the infirmary. Bunnie sputtered after her, her eyes horrified.
"Oh mah stars..." She knelt down by the Chieftain's bed and rested her head on the mattress, her heart twisting like a wet wrung towel, dripping blood. "What's happenin' to you, Sally..."
The spirit of Lupe hovered overhead...sad and alone.
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Sally was not in the mood for Geoffrey St. John. She had run down to the pool, hoping to find it abandoned so she could rage at Cu, complain of the horrors of the world to the only ear that would listen and not judge. She sorely needed an impartial party at the moment.
The muddy shore was barren, the log unoccupied, but he was there. Perched on a rock near the tangle of bushes that led to Cu's sanctuary, skipping stones across the still water. She slowed to a walk upon seeing him, frustration nearly making her eyes water. Swiftly, she turned to leave, but it was too late. He'd seen her.
"'Ey Luv! Down for a swim?"
"It's 60 degrees out," she retorted dully.
"Is it now..." He chucked another rock. "I'm glad it's cooling off. In the summer, I just want to unzip this pelt..." He ran one hand vainly through his shock of white headfur.
"I hate winter."
"Since when?"
"Since forever."
"Remember last year when we went sledding on the big hill? That was fun." Geoffrey's eyes glinted as he recalled the incident. "Heh, yeah. And I bowled over Sonic. He was at the bottom, not paying any attention, and I ran him over." He laughed heartily.
Sally did not. "You could've killed him."
"Oh, whatever would we do without our hero..."
When she didn't reply to his scathing remark, he hopped down from the rock and came closer. "He's worried about you."
She stared across at the swaying fern. She wanted to hide in their graceful leaves, crawl underneath the bows and sleep. Sleep forever, maybe. Away from all worry.
"That's not my problem. I didn't ask him to worry."
"You don't have to ask. We do it because we-"
"Care," she growled. "Yeah. I know. You all care so much."
He took off his beret and pushed his hair back from his eyes. Those murky blues, now free of the dangling white headfur, bored into her, searched her depths. She didn't even try to shield herself from him, because she just didn't have the strength. "You're not the same person anymore, Sally."
"You know what they say...people change." She shrugged half-heartedly. She should be horribly wounded from his words, denying them, arguing that she was still the same strong spirited girl she had been...but it felt so false. Maybe she had never been that girl at all. Perhaps it had all been a desperate front.
"It's not that sort of change. It's like someone else has moved into your mind and they're telling you all sorts of nasty lies."
She blinked. It was the most surprised gesture she could manage.
"What you need..." he put a hand on her shoulder. It felt incredibly heavy. "Is a nice long soak, luv. Cleanse all them nasty thoughts from your mind...get back to yourself again." And he gestured, wide and sweeping, towards the power ring pool...
And the cliff...
She stared at him. She stared and stared, so long and so invasively that he finally said: "What?" His tone was completely innocent but she was filled with wild suspicion.
"I promise I won't watch," he said, with a wink.
"I don't think a bath is going to do anything," she finally uttered.
"Maybe you should talk to someone."
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" She sneered. "It isn't helping very much."
He shrugged. "I don't mean me. Someone you can...trust."
"I can't trust you?" She stared hard at him.
"I don't mean it like that..." He frowned. "Someone you can...feel perfectly comfortable around. You know."
"And just who..." She stepped closer to him, her tone icy. "Are you referring to?"
He smiled. "That ain't my decision, babe. Whoever you feel is the right one..."
With that vague, smirky-smiled statement, the skunk strode past her and out of sight along the path to the village.
Her desire to see Cu had vanished. It was replaced with the want to see another. No, not just see. To confront another.
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King Acorn was enjoying the pleasures of a leisurely day. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt in the warm breeze day, and was armed with a watering can. The flowers outside his hut were quite thirsty.
Sally stood ten feet from him for several minutes without him noticing. He looked so peaceful and content. She was about to shatter that.
"I can't believe you told him. How could you tell him?"
"Hmmm?" Her father turned. The sprinkling water from the rusty can splashed upon the stones leading up to his door. She was aware of how dry her mouth was; it was utterly hard to swallow.
"What is it, do you trust Geoffrey, and not Sonic? I think if Geoffrey can know, then Sonic should too!"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about." He moved closer to the hut to water a bright purple flower. She was surprised the snow earlier in the week hadn't killed all of the flora. Some of them were dead, though, she noticed. Soon they all would be.
She crossed her arms across her chest, snarling. "I think you do!"
"I'm quite sure I don't." He gave her a hard cutting look. "I don't appreciate that tone, young lady."
"I don't appreciate you telling Geoffrey! I think I'll go tell Sonic about it, right now!" She whirled away and stormed away from his hut, but a hand closed around her arm, pulling her back.
"If you are talking about the Source, then you certainly are not, young lady!"
She turned back, wresting her arm away. "Not sure what I'm talking about, huh?"
His brow was furrowed. "Sally, I assure you, I haven't told Geoffrey anything. Where do you get this notion?"
"Because he KNOWS. He keeps implying, like he's soooo clever, that he knows. How else could he know?"
"I think..." The King set down the can on the grass and put both hands on her shoulders, his tone softening, as if about to tell her something private. "In your...state...you might be...perceiving things differently than they are."
"My state?" She laughed harshly. "Seems I'm in some state I don't know about, but supposedly everyone else does."
"You need to snap out of this, Sally. It isn't healthy. Your friends are worried about you. I'm worried about you."
She glared, hating him suddenly for all his care and concern. What use were those petty emotions in the vast hatred and cold of the world? Love was a light to lead...she used to believe that (she wanted to believe it, and the want itself was a cause for rage) But now the light was burnt out.
"Save your worry for someone else." She was tired suddenly. She didn't want to argue anymore.
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She slept.
She woke up, and laid still, and fell asleep again. And when she woke a second time, she was weary from sleeping all day. But still, she kept her head down, and slept again.
When she woke the third time, it was night, and she had missed dinner. It didn't matter, because she wasn't hungry. Odd...since she hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch.
'I wonder if I never eat again, will I just wither away? Maybe my body will stop giving me signals and I won't even know until it's too late...'
She stared up at the ceiling. Shadows from the leaves outside were dancing there. They blurred out of focus, doubling, tripling.
'Too late? Maybe it's too long overdue. If I had died on a mission...then I wouldn't be around to feel this.'
Feel what?
Nothing.
Exactly.
Who knew feeling nothing could hurt so much.
But then, any absence of something caused yearning, didn't it? The blind wished for sight, the deaf wished for sound, the sick wished for health. And the person who felt nothing...they wished for some scrap of feeling. Caring, anger, love – anything to feel real and alive.
'There's nothing worse,' she decided, 'then to feel dead when you're still alive.'
She turned her head, looking away towards her wardrobe, where she had carelessly thrown her boots and vest onto the floor. NICOLE was strapped to one boot – Sally felt strangely unconcerned with how she'd just tossed the computer-friend onto the floor – and the other boot had once housed her trusty dagger. Not anymore. She'd thrown it into the pool the day after killing Robotnik.
'How foolish. The knife didn't do it. I did it.'
The knife...it had possessed a polished wooden handle and a blade of sharp glimmering metal. It was a beautiful weapon. And deadly – how easily it had sliced through Robotnik's flesh. She remembered quite vividly, a time when she had accidentally sliced her finger. It slid in cleanly, and she had gasped, knowing instantly by that odd numb feeling that she had been cut. The blood had welled up and ran down her arm...
So sharp, that knife had been. She closed one hand around her sheet, imagining the handle. She wanted to hold the knife. Maybe she should swim down into the cold waters and retrieve it.
She imagined the sand at the bottom of the pool. It was white. So white...no, it was changing into something else. It was an expanse of white arm, and the contrast was so high that she couldn't tell if it was covered in skin or fur. A voice whispered; it pointed her towards the former. It was soft, vulnerable, in a way she'd never heard before. The point of a razor was denting in the skin and the red that came forth was almost neon in its intensity.
"Why...why can't I just do it?" the voice whispered, cracked and desperate. HIS voice.
In her normal state, she might have said: "Because you're strong."
Tonight, she muttered: "Because you're weak."
It would take a very strong person indeed to take up a blade, to carve a path on their arm, letting the veins flow free. So very strong one would have to be to take up a knife and fall upon it, heart-first. She felt bitter amusement. Perhaps it wasn't strong at all. It took the strongest person of all to keep trudging through life.
Maybe she was weak then. Totally pathetic. Weak.
Smart? Wasn't it a fool who put themselves through unnecessary pain?
If she had that knife in her hand right now she could plunge it deep into her breast and bleed out her heart. Then she wouldn't have to think about this anymore. Maybe that path really was the smartest. When life fled the veins, the brain died...there was no more pain, no more thinking, no more worry. No more anything.
'Bliss,' she thought, and not seconds later, she felt a twisting in her gut and her face mimicked the feeling. Her lips twisted and her face crumpled...she felt tears rising hot in her eyes. The emotion was so strong she had to clasp her hands to herself, shoving her face into the pillow to muffle cracked sobbing.
She rolled over, staring up at the ceiling again. The tears ran down her face and wet the pillow beneath her but her face had regained its blankness. She tried to sort out her thoughts. She took them, and placed them in numbered piles, and she examined them, trying to pretend they were merely oddities to study, unrelated to her. So it wouldn't hurt so much.
Thought Number 1: I want to die.
That thought made sense. She was guilty, ashamed, she was tired and worn, she was sick, she was alone, she was caught up in lies, she was under suspicions, she was fighting a battle that she could not win. Perfectly fine reasons for wanting to die.
Thought Number 2, or rather, emotion Number 2: The feeling of anguish that came paired with thought Number 1. Why did wanting to die bring such a powerful rush of pain to her soul?
She tried to analyze this, very coldly. Picking it apart like vultures on a corpse. The feeling of wanting to die was rational, given the circumstances. Therefore, the emotion that tried to counter it was irrational. She should ignore it. It was her body's reaction to her mind. Of course her body didn't want to die. It was keeping her alive even as she pondered death; pumping blood through her veins, beating her heart, bringing air into her lungs.
She held her breath then, held it long enough that stars flashed in her eyes but her body didn't cooperate. It forced her to exhale and then inhale raggedly, desperate. Her body was a formidable opponent and so she would need a formidable weapon.
The knife...the beautiful knife at the bottom of the power ring pool.
She stood up and glided to the door. Part of her was lead-footed and tried to hold back, but she tried to pretend she was in a daze, a trance that would float her all the way to the pool, where she would dreamily arise from the water with the knife. She would take the knife, with no fear, and cut long snaking trails up her arms, so deep there would be no chance for turning back.
But she wasn't in a trance, she was just tired and desperate, and when she saw Geoffrey lounging by a tree near the trail to the pool, smoking a cigarette, she couldn't bring herself to walk past him. She couldn't stand his questions or his screams when he'd catch her killing herself.
'Maybe tomorrow night...' she thought...as she crawled back into bed and fell into unrefreshing sleep.
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She did not go down to retrieve it the next night. The chill had come again and she couldn't face the cold. The morning after, Sonic knocked on her door and demanded she join him for breakfast.
So, she found herself at Bunnie's kitchen table. Sonic was to her left, Geoffrey to her right, Antoine across the table, and Bunnie was making the food. Everyone seemed excited to consume Bunnie's tantalizing berry pancakes, but Sally could not work up the enthusiasm. The sweet smell made her stomach curl in hunger.
"Those look mighty good," praised Geoffrey as Bunnie came around with the steaming pan, plopping pancakes onto their plates. Sally protested as two of the thick cakes fell onto hers. "That's too many, Bunnie, I can't-"
"Aw, Sally-girl, ya'll look like a twig. They'll do ya good, now eat 'em or ya'll gonna hurt mah feelings!"
The princess managed a weak smile and reached for the syrup.
Forks clinked. The first few bites were taken and the air was filled with the sounds of 'mmmms' and other noises of approval. Bunnie smiled as she took her seat. "Ya'll are too kind...these cakes are a snap ta make!"
"Maybe," Geoffrey said, a rather large piece on the verge of sliding off his fork, "But nobody makes 'em quite like you."
"If only I could be convincing her to be making zee French dishes," said Antoine. "She would be making excellent Crepe Suzettes, I am thinking."
"That French stuff is too delicate and flimsy for me." Geoffrey snorted. "I want real food."
"I'm betting Bunnie could make a mean chili dog sauce."
"Mean...surely you mean 'cruel'?" Antoine laughed in contempt. "It is cruel to zee palate indeed!"
"Didn't know you were an artist, Ant."
"Palate means zee appetite, fuel!"
"Whatever." Sonic shrugged. He had already wolfed down his three cakes and was looking around for more. Sally was still working on her first.
"Speaking of food..." Bunnie addressed Sally, watching the Princess cut off a small piece of pancake and gingerly eat it, "With this cold spell coming on, we figured we'd better get an early start on the rationing."
"Yeah." Geoffrey took a sip of his coffee. "Might be havin' an early winter, the way things are going. We were gonna go out fishing today, so we can start the drying and smoking."
"Already..." Sally swirled a piece of pancake in a pool of syrup. She stared down as if entranced. "But we don't normally start for another month or so..."
"Don't wanna be caught out in the cold, do we?"
"No...I suppose not." Sally sighed and set down her fork. She was not looking forward to winter food. Dried fish and meats, preserved jars of vegetables and fruits. No berries, no fresh greens...no freshness.
"You're coming with us, right?" Bunnie didn't state it like a question. Sally felt trapped by their stares and smiles. They wanted her to go. She felt a snappish remark welling up; she knew they were still worried for her...and it was irritating. But she was too tired...too...uncaring.
"Yeah. I guess."
"Great." Sonic put an arm around her. "We're glad."
"As long as I don't have to bait the hooks." Her flat attempt at humor normally would not have drawn laughter, but today they roared. She bowed her head in humiliation at the false sound of it.
Maybe she would go fishing somewhere else...someplace like the Power Ring pool...
The knife would be less painful than the sound of her friend's empathy.
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The Great River was sloshing against its banks, perhaps enjoying its last weeks of freedom before the ice came and froze it into place. Sally knelt by a low spot on the bank and dipped a hand in. The water was numbing.
They strode along the river until they came to Sonic's favorite casting spot, the wooden bridge that spanned the water. Sonic bounded to the middle and stood upon the railing, peering down at his reflection. He grinned. "We don't even need bait...the fish jump right up to see this handsome face."
Bunnie guffawed and Geoffrey made a retching sound. The skunk set foot on the bridge and Sonic let out a dismayed moan. "Awwww...now you've gone an' scared them away, St. Stink!"
"We'll see who brings home more fish, pincushion!"
"It ain't gonna be Sally," said Bunnie, nodding towards the Princess. The squirrel was staring distractedly down at the rippling water, lost in her own thoughts. "She forgot her pole."
"Yo, Sal!" Sonic called loudly, jolting her from her trance. "You forgot your pole!"
Sally glanced down at her hands. One held the handle of a metal bucket which smelled strongly of fish. They used it to put in the bones and remains after gutting the fish. The other hand held a large reed basket, used to carry the fish home. Bunnie and Antoine also held one; they obviously were planning on catching many today. But Sally had forgotten to grab the most crucial item from her closet.
"I don't know how I forgot..."
The group exchanged looks and Sonic returned to the grassy bank. "I'll go get it for ya, Sal."
"No...it's ok." She shook her head. "I'll get it. Did we forget anything else?"
"Bring some snacks when you come, wouldya. Fishing is hard work." Sonic had zoomed back onto the bridge, propping his pole strategically between the wooden rails. He wouldn't have to touch it until a fish bit.
Sally rolled her eyes. "You must be exhausted already."
"Whew, I am!" Sonic leaned heavily upon the railing, pretending to mop sweat from his forehead.
Sally set down the basket and bucket and headed away. Antoine was calling Sonic a 'fuel' and the hedgehog was replying with a similar insult; everyone was cheery. She couldn't understand how they could be like that...it didn't seem possible. It didn't seem...right.
'This would be a good time to see Cu...'
She entered the village and eyed the trail down to the pool. It was probably safe...but she didn't feel like it.
When she entered her hut, there was a terrible stillness. An emptiness. Alone-ness.
'A house is a shell that reflects its owner,' she once heard someone say. The hut merely felt this way because she did? She was in mourning...and the others? Frolicking in the last days of warmth....they weren't. She couldn't stand being in here.
Neither could she stomach their laughter and hollow smiles. They were her friends...she loved them? Maybe it was better for all if she just stayed here alone, silent forever. They could stay in their fantasy world of happiness and she could endure the suffering. Knowledge equates suffering and she had knowledge of the world's cruelty...
"What am I saying?" She spoke aloud, her brow knitting in a violent frown. "They KNOW too! They've seen it too...they all saw Bernard dying...right in front of them! They know how the world is and they still...brush it off!"
'You used to be like that too...what happened?'
'I don't know.'
Maybe something had broken inside of her. Or maybe it was just the opposite...a wound that was in all people, like blind eyes or deaf ears...something crippling that finally healed and allowed different views of the world in. Bad views. Negative views...scary...horrible...overwhelming visions of reality.
'Stop it. Just get the pole already. Quit thinking about it.'
She went to the wooden door of the closet and opened it. Everything was in order. She had an urge to grab everything and hurl it against the walls. She shuffled her feet forward into the closet and reached for the pole in the corner.
Her foot connected with something on the floor. A box of random items, all stacked neatly, came tumbling out as she tripped. Her hand flayed, still reaching for the pole, knocking it over. She fell heavily against the closet's wall.
"Ouch," she moaned. The moan was repeated as something from the top shelf came falling down, hitting her in the head.
"This is not my day..." She cursed, rubbing her head, half expecting to feel blood...somewhat disappointed when she didn't. Through a haze of pain-tears, she stared down at the assaulting item that had fallen in front of her. It was a lovely jewelry box, one given to her by Antoine a few birthday's ago. She reached out, tracing a finger along the ornate patterns carved into the wood.
There's something about this box....
A chill rippled down her spine as she remembered. She lifted the lid, her breath held in her lungs. Yes...they were still there. Coating the bottom of the box, a sickly layer of dust and ash.
Robotnik's ashes.
She sniffed. They smelled so horrible. She slammed the lid shut, her heart hammering. She clenched her arms to her chest, her body heaving in a want to vomit. She choked it down. She was holding death in her hands. The dust of evil. They had burnt Robotnik...they had burnt Bernard too. And she hadn't kept any of him...he had just blown away on the wind.
'We should have buried him...then there would be a place to go to...to remember him. Even when memories fade and wither in the mortal frame, the stone marker would serve as a reminder to all who follow...that a man had died in vain.'
His life was so futile. He had lived in peace in Mobotropolis and that had been raped away. He had come to a hidden village and stayed hidden for years upon years and then he had finally taken a stand, and he had died for it. He died bleeding in Geoffrey and Chuck's hands and now, because of his foolishness in wanting to accomplish something with his life, he had damned those two men. They were blamed for his death. Bernard's only accomplishment in life had been to bring about more hate.
'Maybe they should carve that on his marker...if they make a marker...' She thought bitterly. She was picturing the crowd surrounding Chuck, yelling at him, throwing things at his metal skin. And his voice, plaintive and non-aggressive: 'And as much as I'd like...I can't resurrect people, I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do.'
Resurrection? Something clicked in her mind. She had found something. Yes...what was it? It was what had nagged her mind the other night! The key.
It was what Uncle Chuck had said: 'I can't resurrect people.' Why the hell was that thought so important?
She smiled, a mirthless curve of her lips, throwing the box of ashes away from her. It was a key, alright, a key that opened a door to nothing. Resurrection...bringing the dead back to life...but who said they wanted to be brought back? If she died, would she want to come back?
'Maybe...'
'No.'
'Life is a curse. It comes to us unwillingly. Nobody asked for this punishment...!'
'This is your...'
Punishment?'
HIS voice was creaking the floorboards of her mind, dusty, silky. A rattlesnake slithering, warning her with a hiss.
'This is your punishment for bringing back the dead.'
That's what Snively had said, on that fatal day. She was baffled then, but too wrought to much think about it. It struck her like a hammer now, cracking her skull and making darkness bleed from her ears. Holy Mobius, no. He had meant...
Cu Chulainne could bring people back to the dead. It could resurrect...
She was starting to breathe heavy, her head throbbing, her heart hammering. Her eyes shot wide open and locked on the box of Robotnik-ash. Oh damn yes, that's what Snively had meant.
She heard him saying it, over and over, so accusing, so wrathful, seething the warning: Never try to bring him back again, Sally. NEVER.
She reached out and clamped a hand on the lid of the box, pulling it open again. The smell made her retch. She heard Robotnik's voice, that oily rumble...and Snively's voice...he was making incoherent sounds of fear and pain...there was a sound of feet running and hard fists connecting with flesh...bones breaking... She let out a squeal and clutched one hand to her head. The other hand dug fingers into the mound of Robotnik-ash.
Oh, sweet...Mobius...somebody help me...
In her nostrils, the smell came, thick and pungent. Death in its most hideous form...the rotting murdered corpse, crumbling in decay, infested with insects...and he was wrapping his dead flesh-stripped hands around her throat. She was lifted off the ground and strangled so violently, blood vessels in her eyes bursting and her lungs withering in her chest...she heard herself pleading in whispers in a voice that was not her own.
"SAVE ME FROM HIM, PLEASE!"
She wrenched away from the box, throwing herself violently into the corner, where she cowered. She was struck with breathlessness and paralyzed muscles, her mouth moaning in terror. If somebody had entered the closet, she felt she might spring upon them and rip them apart in utter fear; survival instinct taken to the extreme.
Her foot bumped something and it clattered into view before her. A fishing pole. Fishing? Her friends...they were waiting down by the river!
Like warm water from a shower, washing away dirt and tiredness, she felt the fear slide down her body, disappearing into the floorboards below her. It felt so foreign, as if she'd been covered in somebody else's blood and only now was washing the sticky remnants away.
Numbly, she retrieved the box of ash and returned it to the top shelf. She picked up the fishing pole, grasping it tightly in her hand. 'What happened?'
She had to speak aloud to decipher it. "Snively...he thought I brought Robotnik back to life. Yes. That's why he said that. He was so..." She felt a strange feeling in her gut...it was not an unfamiliar feeling, but never before had it been directed at Snively. "Afraid. He was so utterly afraid."
She felt sympathy for him.
"Why would he think that?! Why? What did I do to put that idea in his head?" She thought back to the previous weeks, but nothing stood out. Something must have set him off, and he had been so angry with her...it was her fault, somehow. "Sweet Mobius...it's my fault AGAIN."
Curled like a fetus in the corner, crying, shivering...knowing the thing you fear most in the world is descending upon you... That's how he'd felt...in a mania...willing to destroy worlds to protect himself.
"But...he's still... EVIL. Shut up, NO, he IS still bad! He should've known I'd never bring back Robotnik. He just wanted to justify his violence..." She tried to shake away the understanding of his terror; why the hell was she trying to pardon him from his horrible actions? Just because he was afraid? He was such a fucking coward! He should have faced DEATH rather than harm any more people...he should've killed his own self! How dare he punish us for his fears?
Even these thoughts weren't enough to completely eradicate the compassion that had welled within her.
She exited the closet with a flash of steel in her eyes...the old determined Sally come back for a visit.
'I will make it go away. The lies will be dead. I will FIX this mistake I've made.'
There would be a final battle, an end to this war...but this time...it wasn't going to be fought with violence. She had something else in mind...