We have a tendency, as imperfect beings, to take a character or person we admire very much... Our favorites, you could say... And torture them relentlessly. Our minds twist them in ways of pure cruelty, and we do not back down from the pain and heartache we cause... And why? Maybe we're jealous... Maybe we like to see pain inflicted upon those we love... Maybe it just makes their lives more interesting to us... Or maybe we just like playing god. Feeling of higher authority than the ones closest to us. It's a feeling you could get addicted to. We, as imperfect beings, seem to crave this authority. Lusting for full control of the ones we love most, just to make them suffer...
We let our minds wander, we let our minds control the image we have of them. Maybe we want to make them helpless...
We, as imperfect beings, could stand upon a cliff edge... And we would think, "I could jump..." And if anyone were with us, we would think, "I could push them..."
We relish in the authority of having a character cower... In need of our mercy and our mercy alone...
We... As imperfect beings... Trap the ones we love most within our minds... Relentlessly tormenting them till our hearts content...
She drew her eyes up from the flower she had been twiddling between her fingertips. A blood red rose, in full bloom. Her fingertips being pricked by the thorns as the stem threaded between her fingertips. The color red always suited her, she was told on many occasions, but she had yet to ever truly believe these compliments. The truth of the matter was that she didn't believe in the compliments. If someone showed her the tiniest inkling of praise, she would turn away, bashful smile pulling at her lips, and red blush dusted across her cheeks. But her mind always pushed them down... Telling her that they were lying.
There was one person whom she craved the attention from. One person whom she wanted with every fiber of her being to just stop by and drop off some accolades, if only just once. Yet he never did, and it took a toll on her young, innocent mind... Easily influenced by the sway of the one person she loved. He was older than her, therefore he was wiser, even if it was only by three years. But that didn't stop her from wanting the commending. But only from him.
Every chance she got, she tried, hopelessly tackling him in her arms, squeezing him so he wouldn't go. Just like he always did. But knowing full well of her level of strength, which stood higher than that of anyone else in the team, she'd try anyways. Relentlessly chasing after one thing she'd never be fast enough to catch.
And the flattery never came... There was never any glorification, never a encomium written in his hand... Never a "kudos..." Never a pat on the back... Never any recognition... Never anything of the sort... And her everlasting smile would falter, even just the tiniest bit. A little more every time he ran away, leaving her in the dust...
Even if the laudation never came... Couldn't be at least spare a moment for her sake? If anything... It spared her mind the happiness she should gain from receiving a compliment from anyone. If she wasn't good enough to be complimented by the one guy she loved most, surely she was not entitled to be paid any homage to by any other soul to ever grace the ground they walked on... The ground he ran on...
She looked back down at the flower in her grasp, the dew sparkling upon its petals. The smell of the freshly plucked flower enveloping around her... And she smiled, closing her eyes and feeling the cool, crisp breeze pass her by. The thorns of the Rose catching on the fabric of her glove, and never drawing any blood.
Surely though... There has to be something about her... Right? And maybe... Just maybe...
The breeze was long gone, but she still smiled gleefully, opening her mouth and whispering his name, seemingly to the flower, "Sonic..."