Work Text:
It won’t open.
This… this prison, or whatever it is, won’t open.
It’s small, narrow, it makes me claustrophobic and it takes my breath away. I can see through this kind of reddish wall, but as soon as I place an hand on it, I get shocked: as if a defense system were activated or something. Something that doesn’t want me to get out, that wants to keep me under control inside the prison.
I feel empty. My hands, my arms, my legs, my whole body is translucent and light, if I try to touch myself my fingers go through my skin and grab nothing but emptiness: I feel like I’m in a dream, hanged between the reality and the fiction.
I’m alone, I’m empty, I’m scared. I don’t know where am I, nor how and why I was teleported here.
Sonic is not here. None of my friends are here with me, right now. Maybe they were imprisoned, too? And if it were, then how are we going to go back home?
I’m scared. I’m really, really scared. I tremble, and my body register this action as if it was a system malfunction: I see parts of my arms and legs disappear and reappear in a second, sometimes they stretch out, they cripple but they don’t really hurt, I can’t perceive any sensation around me. It’s like I’m a living glitch. Always assuming I’m not already dead, at this point.
I miss my home. I miss my companions. I miss Sonic.
I lost the count of how much time has passed since I woke up. I could already be days, or maybe just hours. I don’t even know if the passing of time in this place is the same as the one on Mobius. We’re very far from Mobius, aren’t we?
I just want to escape from here, understating what is going on and then realizing it’s only a dream. A nightmare. Yes, it must be. In a moment it’ll be morning and Sonic will wake me up and Amy will offer me one of her delicious homemade sweets.
I feel another alteration in my body, this time it hits right in the face, it pinches my cheeks and blurs my sight for a millisecond: am I… crying? Yet I don’t feel a single tear.
However, this feeling is clearer and stronger than the other ones, it digs me from the inside and it takes me back to reality for a moment, it makes me feel as something of material, of essential, of alive.
Perhaps, this means that…
No, I’m still not able of touching my skin. I’m not able of wrapping my legs to take them to my chest or of keeping my hands tightly together.
This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me, I think.
All I want right now is a hug.
It’s dreadful to know I can’t even comfort myself alone.