Sonic Series Fan Fiction ❯ Darkness of Blue ❯ Part One ( Prologue )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Crying Souls 
After a tragic accident during a Freedom Fighter mission, Sonic the Hedgehog is now in hospital as a paraplegic. Not only that, but he has developed a fatal tumor in the brain - he knows he could die at any moment. Because of this he becomes depressed and cold to anyone who comes near him, alone and helpless until his time comes. Resorted to living off a breathing mask and an IV, he feels there is no hope for himself and awaits death with open arms...
Or maybe an old friend back from the dead hasn't quite managed to forget him yet...
(Warnings below, read before you start the fic)
Non Anime: Sonic Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 834 | Status: Completed
After a tragic accident during a Freedom Fighter mission, Sonic the Hedgehog is now in hospital as a paraplegic. Not only that, but he has developed a fatal tumor in the brain - he knows he could die at any moment. Because of this he becomes depressed and cold to anyone who comes near him, alone and helpless until his time comes. Resorted to living off a breathing mask and an IV, he feels there is no hope for himself and awaits death with open arms...
Or maybe an old friend back from the dead hasn't quite managed to forget him yet...
(Warnings below, read before you start the fic)
Non Anime: Sonic Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Romance / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 09.13.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 834 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Sonic the Hedgehog and other associated characters are copyright of Sega. All other characters are copyright to me.
Warnings!
Yes, will be yaoi in later chapters. Don't like yaoi, don't read. Also rated for mild language, maybe violence (depends in my mood), suicidal POV's and emotional scenes. If you have a problem with any of this, then I must ask you not to read.
No flames - I'm allergic to burns and pain...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
I whimper as I lay here, in my bed, in my prison; I watch as they change my IV, not caring about the pain in my skin as they slide it under the fur, deep within my arm. They do this every week - they say it helps me, feeds me so they don't have to run the risk of taking off the mask around my mouth and nose. They say that helps me too...
It doesn't.
Neither does the IV.
I can't remember the exact date they told me I was dying - I remember how I felt though. Light-hearted and happy, glad to breathe again. The pink girl was with me; we were talking about moving into an apartment of our own. We were young and in love. Neither of us had a care in the world, we thought it would all go smoothly and that nothing could happen.
But something did.
When the white-coated male stepped into the room, I thought he was going to give me a date when I was to be able to walk again. My worries didn't waver in the slightest when he ushered her out of the room; I wish they did. If they had done, the pain of realising... It wouldn't have torn me so much. If I'd only expected something when he closed the door behind him and sat in the chair the pink one had just rose from.
I panicked when he told me though - tried to break it down first so it wouldn't hurt, but I didn't understand the medical terms... He reverted to telling me bluntly, in the only way I would understand... Felt like a knife through my heart. My eyes went out of focus and all I saw was black; I heard the machine plinking my heart rate shoot up to a screeching continuous hum, but I didn't care. I heard someone in the distance, screaming, an emotion of death behind the sounds. It took me a few minutes to realise the voice was my own.
My body... destroyed. My legs would never move again, not one part lower than the waist; I would never run, experience the thrill of a race... Nothing. It is the end of me. And the tumor... It is inside my brain, they can't get it out - they tried to in the operation. I pleaded with them to try again months later, but they wouldn't. I'm dying - I realise that every time I fought Robotnik I was putting myself at risk, but this made it more real.
I woke up again, in my bed. I tasted vomit in my mouth but when i tried to wipe with the back of my hand I found familiar plastic in place of soft fur. My body slumped further back as I realised the breathing mask was back. It was forcing air... into my mouth... I was exhaling but I couldn't feel myself inhaling...
I couldn't breathe...
I still can't...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
Afterward, I learnt from the Doctor that I would be staying in this bed - the very bed I've slept in, cried in, vomited in... - I would be staying until my time came. I was and am always hooked up to the machines that 'help' me. I brought on the breathing problem myself - in my seizure I had tried to strangle myself... Now I can't use my lungs and I'm forced to live on concentrated oxygen.
The IV takes care of the need of food and water, but having things pumped into my system isn't enough for me... My throats thirsts for water, cold and dry from the oxygen; but I know I'll never taste it again...
Also...
My friends...
They were told and they took a supportive gesture, visiting daily and sending me gifts... For a while... Soon, they disipitated, like my dreams of being the one to overthrow Robotnik, until it was only Pink left. When they first turned my existance to the back of their minds she made excuses up for them - said that they were busy or they'd been assigned to a mission... We both knew she was lying.
It hurt even more when some part of me knew they didn't even tell her to say that. Just excuses so I wouldn't think they deserted me. But they did, and she soon ran out of lies to their absence. Then, I would hardly speak, I shied away from her, sometimes yelled at her in my anger of being reduced to... to living off a breathing mask and a pitiful IV while every day something ravaged my mind, breaking me away from the world.
Then, I got the letter. And my second seizure. She said she'd found someone 'better'.. I knew what that meant. She'd found someone who wouldn't shout and yell, who would take care of her, not the other way around. I tried to hurt myself that day - I remember screaming and grabbing onto the first sharp object i saw. Thank God the nurse was there... She sedated me though, I hated that... Waking up to the pain and emptiness.
I'm going to die. It's inevitable now. They dont know when, it could be years from now, could be in a few hours... I wouldn't mind the latter. Death doesn't scare me now; I've lost everything, my friends, my lover, even my ability to breathe... And I still have it growing inside me. I can feel it sometimes, when the silence and blackness of the clinic are at full peak. Many times when this happens, I cry. Silently, so the nurses don't alert and investigate...
Now I only have the doctors and nurses as company. They've taken most of the memories of my friends away now - they'd gotten hold of the letter after they'd taken care of my seizure and disposed of it. I'm glad they have. Things only serve as a reminder.. A reminder of who I once was, who I should be... And also what's inside of me. I look down at my legs now, knowing they won't move again. The other's have gone now. Good...
I shuffle slightly and slip a hand under the pillow. My slender fingers enclose upon a wafer-thin object. I take it out and with delicate ease, unwrapping the black cloth around it. I gaze into the image, my eyes filling with tears, dull emerald sparking in sadness. Me... and her... I'm standing, with my arm around her pink waist. She's kissing me on the cheek...
I can remember it now...
Amy...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
... I still can't believe I wrote that. Ah well, nice piece of emotion. Like I said, please review, anything against yaoi will not be taken in any offence; I'll just have to check up at your local Doc'sto see if you have a disorder in not reading warnings... Any proper reviews will be fully appreciated.
Warnings!
Yes, will be yaoi in later chapters. Don't like yaoi, don't read. Also rated for mild language, maybe violence (depends in my mood), suicidal POV's and emotional scenes. If you have a problem with any of this, then I must ask you not to read.
No flames - I'm allergic to burns and pain...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
I whimper as I lay here, in my bed, in my prison; I watch as they change my IV, not caring about the pain in my skin as they slide it under the fur, deep within my arm. They do this every week - they say it helps me, feeds me so they don't have to run the risk of taking off the mask around my mouth and nose. They say that helps me too...
It doesn't.
Neither does the IV.
I can't remember the exact date they told me I was dying - I remember how I felt though. Light-hearted and happy, glad to breathe again. The pink girl was with me; we were talking about moving into an apartment of our own. We were young and in love. Neither of us had a care in the world, we thought it would all go smoothly and that nothing could happen.
But something did.
When the white-coated male stepped into the room, I thought he was going to give me a date when I was to be able to walk again. My worries didn't waver in the slightest when he ushered her out of the room; I wish they did. If they had done, the pain of realising... It wouldn't have torn me so much. If I'd only expected something when he closed the door behind him and sat in the chair the pink one had just rose from.
I panicked when he told me though - tried to break it down first so it wouldn't hurt, but I didn't understand the medical terms... He reverted to telling me bluntly, in the only way I would understand... Felt like a knife through my heart. My eyes went out of focus and all I saw was black; I heard the machine plinking my heart rate shoot up to a screeching continuous hum, but I didn't care. I heard someone in the distance, screaming, an emotion of death behind the sounds. It took me a few minutes to realise the voice was my own.
My body... destroyed. My legs would never move again, not one part lower than the waist; I would never run, experience the thrill of a race... Nothing. It is the end of me. And the tumor... It is inside my brain, they can't get it out - they tried to in the operation. I pleaded with them to try again months later, but they wouldn't. I'm dying - I realise that every time I fought Robotnik I was putting myself at risk, but this made it more real.
I woke up again, in my bed. I tasted vomit in my mouth but when i tried to wipe with the back of my hand I found familiar plastic in place of soft fur. My body slumped further back as I realised the breathing mask was back. It was forcing air... into my mouth... I was exhaling but I couldn't feel myself inhaling...
I couldn't breathe...
I still can't...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
Afterward, I learnt from the Doctor that I would be staying in this bed - the very bed I've slept in, cried in, vomited in... - I would be staying until my time came. I was and am always hooked up to the machines that 'help' me. I brought on the breathing problem myself - in my seizure I had tried to strangle myself... Now I can't use my lungs and I'm forced to live on concentrated oxygen.
The IV takes care of the need of food and water, but having things pumped into my system isn't enough for me... My throats thirsts for water, cold and dry from the oxygen; but I know I'll never taste it again...
Also...
My friends...
They were told and they took a supportive gesture, visiting daily and sending me gifts... For a while... Soon, they disipitated, like my dreams of being the one to overthrow Robotnik, until it was only Pink left. When they first turned my existance to the back of their minds she made excuses up for them - said that they were busy or they'd been assigned to a mission... We both knew she was lying.
It hurt even more when some part of me knew they didn't even tell her to say that. Just excuses so I wouldn't think they deserted me. But they did, and she soon ran out of lies to their absence. Then, I would hardly speak, I shied away from her, sometimes yelled at her in my anger of being reduced to... to living off a breathing mask and a pitiful IV while every day something ravaged my mind, breaking me away from the world.
Then, I got the letter. And my second seizure. She said she'd found someone 'better'.. I knew what that meant. She'd found someone who wouldn't shout and yell, who would take care of her, not the other way around. I tried to hurt myself that day - I remember screaming and grabbing onto the first sharp object i saw. Thank God the nurse was there... She sedated me though, I hated that... Waking up to the pain and emptiness.
I'm going to die. It's inevitable now. They dont know when, it could be years from now, could be in a few hours... I wouldn't mind the latter. Death doesn't scare me now; I've lost everything, my friends, my lover, even my ability to breathe... And I still have it growing inside me. I can feel it sometimes, when the silence and blackness of the clinic are at full peak. Many times when this happens, I cry. Silently, so the nurses don't alert and investigate...
Now I only have the doctors and nurses as company. They've taken most of the memories of my friends away now - they'd gotten hold of the letter after they'd taken care of my seizure and disposed of it. I'm glad they have. Things only serve as a reminder.. A reminder of who I once was, who I should be... And also what's inside of me. I look down at my legs now, knowing they won't move again. The other's have gone now. Good...
I shuffle slightly and slip a hand under the pillow. My slender fingers enclose upon a wafer-thin object. I take it out and with delicate ease, unwrapping the black cloth around it. I gaze into the image, my eyes filling with tears, dull emerald sparking in sadness. Me... and her... I'm standing, with my arm around her pink waist. She's kissing me on the cheek...
I can remember it now...
Amy...
------------------------------------------------------------------------ --------
... I still can't believe I wrote that. Ah well, nice piece of emotion. Like I said, please review, anything against yaoi will not be taken in any offence; I'll just have to check up at your local Doc'sto see if you have a disorder in not reading warnings... Any proper reviews will be fully appreciated.