Spooky

Chapter 33

-Shadow's POV-

The weekend is spent doing nothing in particular. It's too cold to go places, so we spend our time relaxing in the dorms, playing video games with my blankets draped across the both of us. Each passing day, the dark cloud following me around grows heavier, more of a burden, as I think of the anniversary on the horizon. It isn't easy. I don't know if it ever will be. I'd be afraid, almost, if it were easy, but that thought doesn't really sit well with me. As per usual, Scourge is almost too kind to me. I'm sure the holiday season is not a wonderful time for him, so I make no complaints, but he seems to have some kind of sixth sense about this. To be honest, he doesn't seem too happy these days either, and it's become routine for us to come back to the dorms and immediately flop down in one of our beds, huddled together, usually him in my arms. At least if we're miserable, we're miserable together.

I walk to and from classes in a sort of blind stupor, just counting the days until the break. I don't pay attention, I don't take notes or do my work, and I'm still making B+'s and A-'s. This makes no goddamn sense. Why do I put in effort the rest of the year if I can do just as well without any work on my part whatsoever? What the hell is the point in any of this? If I had enough courage and foresight to plan out skipping class with Scourge again, I'd do it. But I know we're on thin ice already in that regard, having been caught once before, so I don't even try it.

Tuesday afternoon I'm sitting on the floor of our dorm room with Scourge dozing in my lap, when my phone starts ringing and my blood runs cold for a brief moment. It's my mother's ringtone; I quickly stand, knocking Scourge off of me, and he blinks tiredly at me in mild confusion. "It's my mom," I say, yanking the phone out my pocket as I stride towards the door, and understanding flickers across his eyes. "I have to—"

"Go ahead, go ahead," he replies, waving me out; I firmly shut the door behind me, then dash down the hall and down the stairs, answering the call.

"Mom?" I say just as I step out the front door, instantly shivering in the cold. I have my jacket on, of course, but maybe I shouldn't have worn ripped jeans...

"Hi, Shadow!" Mom greets me happily. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Not really," I answer, already feeling bad about waking Scourge so rudely. I know he'll forgive me, but I still feel poorly about it. "Don't worry about it. What's up?"

"I don't have a lot of time," she sighs, the cheery tone draining from her voice. "I've been asked to work with the top news station worldwide, and the work lasts for the rest of the month... I won't be able to come home for Christmas," she says, sounding exhausted and upset. "I'm so sorry, darling."

Something in my chest snaps. "It's alright," I hear myself say, but I've gone completely blank. "I understand, Mom."

"I swear, sweetheart, I'm coming home for your birthday," she says with a sudden ferocity, but it doesn't reach me. "I already have it booked, they can't take that way from me—" Clattering and noise in the background ensue— "Oh, damn it all... I'm sorry, I have to go..."

"I'll talk to you later," I reply.

"I love you, Shadow!" She gushes before the line goes dead, and I drop my phone from my head, shoving it into my pocket. Doesn't matter. It won't happen. Sighing, I head back towards the dorm's front doors, and trudge my way back to our room. I'm just so tired. Tired of dealing with this, tired of not sleeping, tired of this being my life. At least I have Scourge, I remind myself as I ascend the stairs, and the thought lifts my mood at least a little bit. I shake myself off a little, walking down the hall; through the thin walls I hear chatter from other roommate pairs, and for a split second I think, Am I the only one who feels this way? Is there anyone else here absolutely miserable and lonely? The detriments of never talking to people—I never have any idea what's going on in others' lives. If Sonic reminisces about his past as Scourge did a few nights ago, does it sadden him? Does what happened to them follow them as my misery follows me? The idea of being less isolated than I feel is bittersweet.