AN: This does not have a happy ending. TW: self-harm, suicide. Don't read if you don't want to encounter that sort of content.

This is Sonadow from Shadow's POV. I wrote this Christmas short in 2012 and fixed it up a little recently.

You have been warned. Read at your own risk.

"Hurts so Good"

I swear, those eyes of his are searing right through me.

The vibrant shade of emerald green sparkles in the late morning sunlight, smiling at me from across the room. I tilt my head to the right in an accidental inviting gesture, and he immediately picks up on my unintended hint.

No, no! Damn. Damn. Damn. He's on his way over to where I sit, grinning widely and adjusting the red and white cap that rests atop his blue-quilled head. Please, I beg silently, don't make me do this. Stay away, for my own sake. Can't you see that I'm frozen in place at the edge of a cliff and that your touch will be just the thing to send me plummeting down to the lonely death that awaits me?

His reply isn't the silence that I've been hoping to hear.

"Merry Christmas, Shadow!" he beams, taking a seat beside me and playfully bumping my arm. The pulse of electricity that courses through me as a result only confirms my worst fear. I'm going to have to resort to physically taming my wild heart once more. Oh, Sonic, why must you torment me like this?

"Yes, Merry Christmas," I force myself to reply. "I'll be right back. I just need to run to the bathroom for a second. I hope you don't mind me leaving so quickly."

"Hey, no problem." He crosses his legs at the knee and chuckles. "Don't take too long, though. Brunch is gonna be served real soon, and I wouldn't want you to miss out on the best food!"

"You're too kind to me," I murmur under my breath as I scurry away and dart into the only vacant room in the building. After securely closing and locking the door behind me, I sink to the floor, sitting with my back pressed up against the door. The sleek wood is shockingly cool against my quills, cool enough to freeze my skin, which is still warm from that blue bastard's touch. Hopefully the cold shall freeze my heart as well.

Taking a deep breath, I bring out my secret weapon from its hiding place inside of my wrist communicator and pull back the glove on my right hand. My fingers tremble and my throat tightens in anticipation. I must remember to be swift yet efficient.

Before I know it, I'm hacking at my wrist, furiously slashing through flesh that has endured a hundred thousand similar wounds. My arm muscles tense at the pain that I barely even feel, and my body screams in a futile attempt to get me to stop the self-inflicted abuse. I can't possibly stop now; not until I've gotten the message. And since I have failed to comprehend this message yet again, I shall punish myself more by going deeper, deeper, deeper.

Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel. Don't feel.

DON'T YOU FUCKING FEEL.

My attack has proven to be more than effective; deep ruby streaked with lime green drips down into a growing puddle of life beneath me. Good, I'm bleeding quite a bit. I deserve to suffer for loving him as I do.

You're pathetic, Shadow. Why don't you kill yourself already? Who cares besides... besides... him?

I realize too late that I am going to die while he is here. No, no, I shouldn't be sorry. I can't live like this anymore. I can't let my cowardly self carry on living. My frantic attempts to shield my heart have failed, yes, but I was weak enough to punish myself for lacking strength. So, without further ado, this shall be the end of me.

This is my goodbye.

Voices.

"Hey, where's Shadow?"

"He's in the bathroom. Been a while since he went in, though."

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What are you talking about?! Hey, wait up, Rouge!"

"Shadow! Shadow, come on already! Shad– OH MY GOD!"

"What's wrong?!"

"LOOK DOWN! OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

"SHADOW! SHADOW, HOLD ON! I'M COMING FOR YOU!"

Fading.

Blood is pouring from me like water from a broken dam. My hand is barely attached to my wrist, hanging by a few lacerated strips of flesh. Sonic is cradling me, wrapping one of his gloves around my gaping wrist, all the while whispering that I'm going to be okay. No, no, I'm not. I can't possibly live another day knowing that he has seen me bleed. I can't possibly go on with this weak heart of mine still beating within my chest. I can't do this anymore. I can't stop myself from feeling, feeling so much: feeling him, feeling his tears, feeling such wonderful warmth. No, no, look away. I don't want you looking into my lifeless eyes.

I love you too much to ever wish for you to see me dead.

The very last thing that I see is the image of his hands stained red and green with my blood. How festive and bright.

Merry Christmas, Sonic.

~END~