Sorry, guys. This one is a bit different.

Flaw

These old legs could carry me from here to there lightning quick. These old legs were faster than any before them. These old legs made me everything I ever was. Was. Everything I ever was. Everything.

Was.

The truth is; I'll never be worth a shit again. Of course, I still have my legs. These old worn out legs might still be able to run far. They might still be able to take me away as far and as fast as I wanted to go.

If of course, I wasn't missing a foot.

-

An infection is the detrimental colonization of a foreign species in a host organism. The infecting organism seeks the host's resources to utilize in order to multiply. The resulting interference with the normal functions the host organism experiences. This can result in chronic wounds, gangrene, loss of a limb, and sometimes even death.

This is how Sonic the hedgehog lost his leg from below the knee.

-

Stepping down my stoop is a pain in the ass. Everyone tells me I should move, but this is my house, you know? I'm not going to move into Amy's and be entirely useless. All I would be; a burden. I already am, you know?

I have to show people I'm not useless, as I carefully balance the crutch on the ground below, and do a half-assed pole vault onto the cement below. The stairs are too much of a pain in the ass to even try with a foot and a crutch. So I just hurdle it.

-

To understand this story in its proper context, it is vital to know this; Sonic the hedgehog is a stubborn, proud individual. He refuses to let anything hurt his pride.

-

One thing that sucks about having a leg, is the fact that even though you don't have a leg, it fucking itches sometimes. It itches, and you can't scratch it because it isn't fucking there. You believe that? You can't help but scratch at nothing, and this always catches looks on the subway.

-

He hates himself, I can tell. He doesn't feel useful anymore in the least. I understand, too. I truly feel for him, I really do. I want to comfort him, but I know I can't. I know he doesn't like me.

I try so hard. I just want him to like me.

All of my spare time is devoted to him. I get on his nerves, I know it. I'm nothing but a fly in his ear. I love him, though. I just can't help wanting to be around him. I've always loved him and I can't bear to see him go through this. At least not alone.

I wish there was something I could do.

-

"Here, let me carry that."

"I don't need your help."

She doesn't listen, instead trying to snatch the object from his hand. He holds a firm grip, and pries it from her hands, his momentum causing him to stumble to the side, landing on his knee. The knee of the leg he still had.

"I don't need your god damn help, okay?"

"But I was just trying to"

"I know what you were trying, and it's very nice or whatever, but all you're doing is slowing me down."

She isn't sure how to respond. She just stares at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She begins to tremble slightly.

"Aw, Amy. Don't cry." She turns her head away as he manages getting up and advancing towards her. "Come on, I'm sorry. You know I don't mean it."

"I hope you mean that."

"And just what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing… I'm sorry."

-

Amy tries so hard, but what she fails to notice is the fact that the idea of her taking care of me is somewhat demoralizing. I mean, I'm not that old yet. Just because I'm missing a leg doesn't make me fucking useless.

I'm just tired of being treated like a god damn helpless old retard. I'm sick and tired of being looked down upon. The dumpster for everyone to throw their false sympathy. I'm not that pathetic, am I?

Am I?

-

"Here, let me get that for you."

These words echo in my mind, taunting me like some fat bully that sits on you. Here, let me get that for you. Here, let me remind you how fucking pathetic you are. Here, let me demonstrate how much better I am than you by proving how I can perform this simple task with ease. A feat you could never hope to accomplish, you miserable waste of time and energy.

Looking back on things, I might feel a bit bad about the events following this seemingly harmless statement. I overreacted, you might say. The truth is I was just angry. Angry at everything, so I took this anger out on anything I could. Sadly, this time it was Amy.

"I'm not your sickly old grandmother, you got that?" Supporting myself with one arm, and gesturing wildly with the free one, I must look like a total dumbass. A genuine asshole. "Stop fucking treating me like I'm a fucking infant, okay?"

And that's when Amy just left without saying anything. At this point, I truly believe I may never see her again.

-

The more I think about my life, the less it all makes sense. I hate the world for what it has done to me, and now standing from my top story balcony looking down at the neighborhood I can't help but feel furious.

Furious at life.

At the world.

At god.

At myself.

At my foot. The foot that isn't there.

I hate it all, and I want it to be over. I want it to just stop. My hand leaves my crutch, my armpit bearing my weight down on it, as my hand carefully reaches into my shirt pocket for the flask sized bottle. I open it, and empty the remains down my throat. I toss the bottle over the balcony and watch it smash in the driveway below. The glass shattering through the silence, and causing a dog to bark off in the distance.

Fuck it. I don't see the point. I don't have the will. It's time to do everybody a favor. Lurch forward, so I don't loose my nerve, and gravity does the rest of the work. My body rolls over the metal bar, my crutch still on my firm grip, being held out in front of me as I fall three stories head first, but it doesn't feel like three stories, it feels like a moment of floating, and instant of rushing towards the pavement, then an abrupt cr

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