Hidden Treasure (Sonadow)

●Chapter 1●

Narrator's P.O.V.

As Maurice grew- getting the shot every year- his body started to form a resistance; without either Maurice or Aleena knowing, Maurice's body no longer responded to the drug. He was like a ticking time bomb awaiting its explosion...

Sonic's P.O.V.

It hurts. It shouldn't matter now, but it hurts. I can't see the ground under me. It's as if I am floating, but I can still feel my fatigued body's rapid thump against the rigid concrete. The pulse behind my ears drowns out all other sounds; except for the fleeting footsteps of another pursuit close behind me.

I don't want to die.

My arms take wing as I swing them with the force of my legs.

I don't want to die.

It's cold. I can feel the brisk air slap me in the face; it's hard to breathe.

I. don't. want. to . . .

~~~~~~

"Maurice! It's time!" The soothing yet controlling voice of my mother cracks my terrorizing daydream. My head slips from my hand, making my quills gently spill down my cheeks. I must have fallen asleep on my hand. I sigh and replace my stature to its original pristine mien.

"Yes, mother . . .'' Yawning, I saunter to the stairs. My long hair tickles the back of my neck ever so slightly, which irritates me, so I search the endless amount of hair bands I've stashed in my pocket. Once I have one, I grab the stiff hair band and swerve my hair into a damp bun, the likes of which my mother adores. I dance down the stairs; my legs feel slightly more powerful than I ever remember them being yesterday. My body has been growing in power lately. I thought to myself wonderingly, but I shrug it off; It's probably just another growth spurt- like Mom had told me about.

Once I trickle down the stairs and into my mother's arms, I bend to her height and hug her tightly- as I do every time I greet her.

"My child . ." She rubs the tips of my ears, making me purr gently into her chest. I always loved it when Mother rubbed the tips of my ears; it's a small gesture of love that goes way back to when I was born.

"Mother," I pondered whether I should say this. My mother doesn't always respond well to these sorts of things. "I've been going through a big growth spurt lately." With that said, I fix my composure and show her my towering height. She tips her head upward in complete surprise.

"Woah . . . yes, you have been." I expect her to smile, but all I get in return is a brooding scowl. "I liked you better when you were smaller." A smile, late on its arrival, creeps across her lips; I can't help but feel it's fake. Then again, Mother has always been like this; she's never been truly happy when she is around me. She's always had a brooding and overly concerned thinking face- not a loving and warm face- It's never bothered me, though. I know she loves me. After all, she tells me every day.

"Arm." Her grumpy tone takes me by surprise; my ears bend as my nose crinkles lightly. Afraid of her, I quickly use all my speed to sit down on a chair not too far away. My speed takes me practically flying across the room, astonishing me. I want to share the enthusiasm of my newfound strength with my mother, but when I look up to her, I can't help but cringe as her face goes a distinct white and blue color. I think I've missed something.

"What's wrong?" I ask her in bliss. She looks at me with big, mortified eyes and my stomach churns, as I watch her, suddenly, march toward me.

"Don't ever do that again!" Her hand raises into the air and I duck into my arms for protection. When she hit me in the past, it always left a mark- A mark she said she made so that there was physical proof I shouldn't tick her off again. Even if she always apologized word after word, I still feel a little frightened by her. Only seconds of her threatening pose passed before her hand thrashed down on my arm and a loud slap creased the silence between us.