Everyone is faced with traumatic experiences...
"You're getting slower, Tails." Sonic teased his flying little friend, who was huffing and panting behind him. A silly, cocky grin plastered on his fifteen year old face, his eyes a unusual emerald green glowed brightly with amusement.
Sure he was undoubtly fast, and sure the only way Tails could keep up with him was by flying as fast as his two tails could. But racing each other, going against the world. Always made the young boy grin, him and his best friend.
No one held a leash on them, no one told them what they couldn't do. Racing with the winds, speeding through fields and town. Life was how they saw fit, what they believed and what they wanted.
Who could ask for more?
From the smallest word, to the largest bullet...
Knuckles knelt at the ledge, watching the vague, glimmering water. Reflection on the massacre of his tribe, their screams ringing in his ears. Some day's he looked at the pristine green grass and only saw blood, dark, rich red, staining the earth.
Two years ago, he lost them. Having a home, only to have it ripped away. Torn into bloody shreds. Not a soul left alive...
Except the one who never wanted to live.
His eyes closed against the harsh winds, allowing it to sting, just a little. Anything to numb her screams, her pleads.
What did he do to deserve this?
But do you let it fester, let it rot your insides?
The moon shone down, illuminating the park bench where Amy sat. Cream's head rested in her lap, her soft snores lulling Amy into a sense of peace.
How long had it been, five years now? Five long, hard years. Years of hiding and avoiding, of trying to survive the best they could...
Five years since she saw him, that boy with emerald eyes. That boy who in better times, gave her a grin that made her wanna soar, fly as high as she could, only to crash down into his arms, where safety laid.
She and Cream had spent that time, searching and hoping to find them. Doing all they could to return to those they once knew...
Why couldn't she get a sign?
Or do you hide it, under layers of self preservation?
Twirling the gem between her nimble fingers, Rouge hummed idly to herself, something along the lines of "Idle hands make for the devils friend." She let the glistening diamond reflect off the moonlight, casting a glow on her soft, seductive features.
So many valuables, so little time. So many days wasted, so little care.
Sighing, she pocketed the gem down her shirt, the safest place it could be. She loved gems, loved the feel of them in her hands. But five years of stuffing down endless pain brought her attitude to pessimistic and almost narcissist manners.
Enough to make her wonder, ponder the world she'd been thrust into.
Between stealing gems to hide from those that wanted her, and keeping a low profile. She almost considered giving up, give up this ruse of lying low. Accepting the freak of nature she was, bat wings and bat-like hearing were enough to give herself away. Taking the easy route, letting them continue to manipulate her manner and life.
Laying down, stop the attacks, forget the urge to run...
When did enough, become enough?
If you are but a child, with a knife thrust repeatedly into your back.
Whose to say you're crazy, for letting go?