[Sonic Boom] The Interest of My Wound

Chapter 6: Sonic's Input

2519 words, 14 minutes

Amy's pace was speedy when she proceeded to walk back home. Eyes heavy with sadness, she allowed her lashed lids to hang over them as she walked by even more trees to get to her home.

My "chez moi", she thought randomly.

A crystal blue sky was no longer in view, and her hopes in seeing a cerulean blue color around her boundaries had been slim.

Her life since the incident had been entirely colorless. Soon, she'd grown to accept living sadly without much to cheer her up. In fact, even seeing each of her friends individually didn't spark anything inside her, now that she thought about it.

She spoke to Sticks, and left her.

She spoke to Knuckles, and he left.

And she spoke to Tails, and she left.

Wow, what a lovely pattern I'm seeing, she mentally mused. Teasingly, her brain decided to be stupid with her about the only person she hasn't spoken to yet.

The one person that especially cared for her.

The person that saved her.

I didn't say a name, but he popped into your head, didn't he?  teased her brain.

Immediately, Amy's cheeks became hot pink, and she looked down bashfully, allowing her front quills to shade her beautiful jade eyes and her arm to cling onto her stitched wound.

Shut UP, brain! she internally shouted. And she moved on, trying to control her thoughts from then on. But it wasn't working.

Tch, come on, Amy. While she knew she was making up these thoughts on her own, it didn't mean her feelings weren't driving her to do so as well.

You know very well you still have to see Sonic.

There.

The name was said.

But by that time, Amy had already arrived onto the pale straw bridge that led to her home. She then opened the door and shut it furiously. Now, instead of feeling like being feisty with her own mind, she felt sad and miserable.

She flopped down on her purple, velvet leather sofa and rested her gloved hands at her sides. She frowned soon after, remained like that for a few seconds, and angrily tore off her cardigan. 

She threw it on the floor, and stared at it in question and anger. Why did she have to wear it and be so scared about her wound? What did anyone else besides her friends care about?

It's not like she's been very social lately, too. But it made her feel like people she didn't know personally in the village were wondering.