Chapter 7 – Breakdown

The gravestone stood out from the lush green of the grass. It was a stronger grey than the rest, being the newest one there. The others were paler, withered with age. Of course it was also distinct because of the large rectangular hole in front of it; the earth still bright and moist from being recently dug up. The air held an aroma of fresh grass where the dew drops still clung to each individual blade. The sun was shining brightly, casting shadows across the lawn.

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Sonic noted that the flowers that were placed at almost every grave injected colour to the surroundings. The scene was almost pleasant. How ironic; one of the most attractive places was also the most depressing. The occasional brightly coloured plant did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. And as for the sun, that was just making his back hot and uncomfortable, and he felt lightheaded. He paced around the hole, to kneel beside the headstone.

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He carefully read the writing displayed on it. It read: 'Amy Rose – beloved and treasured friend.' He traced each embossed letter with his finger, taking it all in. This was the proof he'd needed to finally accept that she was gone. He'd hoped not to see it, that if he couldn't find it, it would mean that none of it was real. A voice in his head taunted him.

Pitiful; you thought that if there was no grave it would be a nightmare. What'll you do now?

Sonic pushed it aside, concentrating on the text. He studied the date of birth to death, and widened his eyes in alarm. He read it again, receiving the same information. '1993 – 2010.'

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If he hadn't felt sick enough already, Sonic was now shuddering. 'Having butterflies in his stomach' was a major understatement. He sensed Dessovelle landing beside him. He didn't move a muscle, but continued to gaze at the granite. She watched him closely, knowing what he was going to ask her.

"H-how…" He stopped, annoyed at the fact that his voice was wavering uncontrollably. He tried again. "How f-far into the future is this?" His sentence was almost inaudible, he was so quiet.

"About a month and a half since the night I visited you," she replied softly.

He stiffened, and at last turned to face her. "A month and a half?" he exclaimed. "In that time, she….she…dies?" he breathed. "How did this h-happen?"

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Dessovelle's expression couldn't be any graver. "The doctors claimed that it was heart failure."

Sonic's mind was practically screaming. Heart failure? She was probably the healthiest person on the damn planet! How the hell did-

"But think about this, Sonic. People can die from heart break. Doctors aren't always correct."

Her words struck him like a ton of bricks, and it hit hard. He felt his arms weaken underneath him as his muscles gave way. He collapsed to the ground and buried his head in his elbows, shaking. He understood now. The cruel reality of it was nauseating. Dessovelle, that…that so called 'Goddess' had taken him through all this to show him that he was going to be responsible for Amy's death. His stomach lurched at the thought. The world around him suddenly felt like it was circling in hopeless loops, and he gripped the grass. His breaths became much deeper, in a desperate struggle to gain air.

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As the severity of it all began to sink in, he suddenly remembered a lyric that Amy had showed him from one of her favourite songs: 'Would the world stop spinning if I lost you?' He groaned, clamping his eyes shut to prevent himself from letting anything escape. He realised that there was one answer to that question: yes. His life without her was nothing. For him, the world would stop spinning. It would be like a lock and no key; one without the other is useless. A sinking sensation was tugging at him, plunging him into darkness. He couldn't lose her, he couldn't.

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The voice from before plagued his mind. You're pathetic, it sneered.

He gritted his teeth, trying to force it out of his head.

You call yourself a hero, think you can handle anything.

Sonic wanted nothing more than to silence the voice but it kept coming back.

You can't even take the truth, can you?

He felt the heat in his face as his anger rose. Not only was he furious, but a sense of despair was gnawing away at him from the inside. He clutched his stomach with one hand, the other still hanging on to a clump of grass. A strong wave of guilt, anger and sadness reverberated in his body and surged upwards; he felt like he was going to be sick.

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From the outside, he looked fine apart from being doubled over. He sensed Dessovelle beside him. It was clear that she was waiting for him to react, watching his every move like a hawk.

You're losing it.

That damn voice again. But it was right, he was losing it. All his life, he'd defeated countless enemies with no problem, now it was a challenge just to regulate his breathing.

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It was all mounting up, every single issue adding extra stress to the unexploded time bomb inside of him. He bit his lip to try and hold it in. His grip on the grass tightened, until he'd dragged out the whole bunch by its roots. It was like he was sliding back down the ladder of life. Everything was plummeting down with him, sending him tumbling to a bottomless pit of nothingness. He clung to the last rung of rationality, but he was soon left hanging by only one hand. He put every last ounce of strength into holding on, but he was slipping.

Four fingers…Then three…Two…One.

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He let go.

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Every single negative emotion that was physically possible erupted from him. He let out an agonising scream of pain. He felt the fury pulse through his veins, and the anguish jolting his insides, shocking even himself with the sheer power of it.

"WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS?" he yelled.

Dessovelle was taken aback, a little unnerved. "You needed to see what would become of your actions," she said. As he whipped round, she saw the narrow streams of tears running down his face. They reflected the sunlight, making him appear to give off a white glow. He looked so different, it was unbelievable. Even those who knew him well might've mistaken him for a different hedgehog.

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In minutes, his appearance had completely changed, from handsome, carefree Sonic, to this dark and tormented stranger. Although his anger was genuine, it was his shield, or what he had left of it. It masked the despair that was suffocating him, by instead blowing his rage way out of proportion. His emotions were swirling around him in a vicious tornado. He responded to her, crying out through the wall of fury.

"HOW CAN THIS BE MY FUTURE?" he screamed. His chest was heaving up and down with his breathing, in the battle for oxygen. His expression suddenly morphed into surprise, as his outburst hit home. He swallowed and lowered his voice a little. "Why is this my future?" he repeated. "And why did you choose to show me today?"

Dessovelle smiled sadly. "I needed to show you tonight in the hopes that you can change it, before it's too late."

Sonic's ears shot up. Change it?