He didn’t want it. He wasn't ready. It shouldn’t happen like this.

Someone stop this nightmare.

Please, somebody.

Anybody.

Any-

But no one came.

The white hedgehog forcefully burst inside, and Sonic screamed. At the top of his lungs, loudly, furiously, breaking his voice.

Because it was more than just pain.

Like a red-hot rod entered his body, burning everything around, tearing him apart from the inside, depriving him of his mind. Yes, he was used to injuries, but this pain was different - it went into the very depths, into the hidden corners of his soul, where no one was ever supposed to enter.

No one and never.

Not him. Not now.

Not like this.

In the wake of the adrenaline that whipped him up, the blue hedgehog again twitched desperately, trying to throw off the weight of the body above, but this didn’t do anything. The rapist ignored his attempt, as if it had not been at all, and only went deeper, increasing his agony

“Oh, shit, you're tight.”

Sonic let out another protesting cry, but it was all pointless: the pain moved further and further, filling him from the inside, causing more and more damage with each push. Tears covered his eyes, the room was blurring, his heart was pounding desperately in his chest, sending piercing impulses along the nerves.

Why was he still, still conscious? Why did the frantically suffering body refuse to let go of his mind trying to escape in terror and keep at least some of his sanity? Why should he feel all the shades of pain tearing him apart, as if piercing him right through to his very head splitting in half?

And why, oh gods, why was this happening at all?

He didn’t want to be the one who was scratched from the inside by sharp spikes in their reverse movement. He didn't want to hear the sound with which hellishly hot flesh left him. He didn't want to know that the scalding liquid was running down his legs and collecting under his belly. He only desperately wanted to really have the opportunity to bite off his tongue.

He was already dead inside anyway.

“And one more time…”

And the pain returned.

Taking pity on him, the body finally dulled all senses, and only echoes of the past agony teared his nerves during this repeated invasion. Closing his eyes, so depriving himself of sight, he no longer heard anything through the ringing silence that blocked his ears, and the sense of smell ceased to pick up metallic notes in the sterile air. Having renounced everything, trying to survive this nightmare at least this way, he allowed emptiness and apathy to take over his consciousness.

He didn't know how long it went on. Eternity or just a moment. But suddenly…

Suddenly, a short flash burnt his eyes through closed eyelids. A familiar, but impossibly unreal voice, which couldn't be here in any way, had shouted out some two words and continued to cry something similar to his name. Again and again.

The smell of burnt fur and flesh reached his nose, the source of heat and pain left his body, dragging him along, and he slowly slid down.

A moment before meeting the ground, someone's caring hands grabbed him. He breathed in the familiar scent of coffee and cinnamon, the one from some other life, which had never happened and now never would, a wet and salty drop fell on his face ...

And he finally sank into the saving embrace of darkness.