So, this is me again. I blame this strange little oneshot on my aunt's cheesy potatoes (she puts a lot of salt on her potatoes... My arteries are going to go on strike T.T). Tell me what you think, please. I like getting reviews with substance, so, please, if you can hear me: Tell me what you like about my story, not just the obvious, "I like it, plz continue!"

Sigh So troublesome... I don't own Sonic the Hedgehog or any merchandise underneath the trademark sign. Motto: Though I obsess, I do not own. Sob ...

Before reading this, I suggest the reader open his or her CD case, pull out the Used, In Love and Death, and pop it into a stereo. I recommend you listen to Cut Up Angels as you read this fic. Seriously, it sets the mood.

Contrary to what everyone believes, Sonic the Hedgehog does not lead what one would call 'a picture perfect life'. He has shown me things he has never shown anyone else, and he fears I am repelled by his actions.

I am not offended by what he does. I am simply part of his audience, waiting for another of his grandeur performances. I look closer than others, though. I pay more attention to detail.

Sonic is a cutter. One day, when he and I were spending time at Tails' house, Sonic took me to the roof. He told me, "Amy, you have to promise not to tell anyone about this. Promise me." Noting the way his hands were shaking and the way beads of sweat were suddenly decorating his brow, I nodded quickly, heart racing. What would Sonic want to tell me that was so important that no one else could know about it?

That day, Sonic was wearing a black hoodie and a baggy pair of faded jeans. He reached into the back pocket of his pants, took out a switchblade, and popped the knife out. He pulled up a sleeve and quickly ran the sharp edge of the knife over his wrist, hissing as blood bubbled up from the cut. He looked up at me, allowing the crimson liquid to run freely around his thin arm, dripping onto the rooftop. His expression was that of a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He waited for me to cry out, back away in horror, call for help and try to stem the bleeding.

I stared back into his eyes, my expression blank. I was not afraid or astonished by what he'd done. I was stunningly calm, even as I watched the crimson droplets plink onto the shingles below my feet. Surprising the both of us, I slipped the glove off of my hand and dipped my index finger in the blood sprouting from the cut. I raised my red finger up, staring wonderingly at the substance. Sonic watched me, childlike in demeanor. He hadn't expected me to react this way.

I hadn't expected this, either. I guess I am a girl who is aroused by physical deformity.

Sonic has never told anyone else about his problem. He is not afraid of his friends rejecting him or surveying him with indifference, contrary to what one might think. He knows that all of our friends would be willing to help him and stick by his side until he stopped cutting himself. He understands that they are all here to help him, behind him all the way, and he is thankful for that. What he is afraid of is the pity they would show him. Sonic is a person who dislikes being pitied or feeling helpless, and he also understands that our friends would pity him in the state he is in. "The stress of saving the world is getting to him", they would say.

This excuse angers him. He rants on and on about this to me as I sit quietly and listen. He is not stressed or worried about anything, he says. He isn't being worn out by the strain of keeping Eggman at bay.

He is simply fascinated by the pain. This is also something he has never spoken to anyone else about. Only me.

I asked him once why he chose to tell me and only me about his 'problem'. He turned to me, a very serious look on his face.

"Ames, I knew that everyone else would pity me in this condition. Tails, Cream, Shadow... They wouldn't understand the reasons I give for cutting myself. That is why I couldn't go to any of them. But you... I thought of you and I had a gut feeling. I thought that maybe, just maybe you wouldn't take pity on me, that you would view me like you would a normal person. And you do." He took my hand then, a simple but sweet gesture. His eyes burning with passion, he added, "You are an enigma, Amy Rose."

Our relationship has definitely taken an unexpected turn. Since he first showed me his wrist up on Tails' roof, he has been more inclined to spend time with me, taking me everywhere he goes. Sure, we must act like our usual selves in public, but that doesn't bother him. Our friends watch us, smiling and commenting on our relationship: "Finally! I thought those two would never get together!" Others, fans of Sonic's, comment on this too: "Ol' Sonic's finally come around! Hallelujah!"

Actually, I believe we have both come to terms with what we mean to each other. We have learned to understand each other much better, and the results have startled me.

We do not have what one would call a 'general relationship'. We do not label ourselves 'best friends' or 'lovers', nor do we think of ourselves as 'playmates'. We do not spend hours talking on the phone or travel to the mall simply to spend time in each other's company. Much to the public's surprise if they found out, we don't even converse half of the time we spend together.

We sit and we listen. Sometimes we'll listen to the radio, sometimes we pull out a CD case. We don't usually quarrel over what we listen to, unless it's a day when we feel somewhat out-of-sync with each other. And even sometimes, we won't turn the music on. We'll listen to the birds chirp in the trees or the cars go by on the highway, and sometimes we'll just listen to each other breathe. During those times, when it's semi-silent in the room we sit in, one of us makes a random sound, making beeping noises or blowing raspberries. When the room is quiet again, we stare at each other for a moment, then giggle lightly.

This is one of the only times that I am able to see him truly smile. Then he kisses me, and all other coherent thought is blocked out by our mingling warmth.

I do not view our love as I once did. We do not make love simply to do so, or to prove our feelings for one another. I believe that Sonic needs to make love to me to assure himself of a thought, of something that bothers him constantly.

He fears that I will leave him. Or, rather, that I will stop understanding him as I have come to understand the Sonic that he really is. He dislikes being pitied, but is horrified by the possibility of being alone. This is why I allow him to seduce me at any time he wants: I understand the need to be loved, to be needed by someone, probably more than anyone has ever understood that focus of thought before. I alone have the power to make or break his will to live, and I am determined to let him know that he is needed by any means I can. Even if that means giving everything I've got to give to him.

I am Amy Rose. I am Sonic the Hedgehog's link to the living and door to the dead, the bridge on which he stands. If I were to break, he would surely spiral into limbo, an eternal space associated with neither pain nor elation, light nor darkness. Considering how things are going now, this might not be such a bad thing.

Tell me in your reviews if you think I should continue this. Also, as a reminder: Substance in reviews is golden, people!!

Edit: People, I have a request. If you read this and very muchly enjoyed it, you should check out a little person named PermafrostDuchess. Alone, she is insignificant (laughs evily), but she has written a poem that goes along with this story and adds to the mystique of it (I think). So, if you liked this, then go read her poem, Salvation's Sacrifice. It's pretty!!

P.S. I actually do think physical deformity has an effect on me (ex. Scars, broken bones, etc.). Also, Gerard Way is waaaayyyyy hot. Not that he's physically deformed or anything, but...

Later.