Tulip chapter 2
Heads up, this is the rewritten version, I’ll keep up the original but this is the fixed one.
I was running from something.
I didn’t know what it was, and somehow that terrified me more than actually seeing it. My legs moved on their own, carrying me through an endless blur of darkness and ruined terrain while cold air burned against my lungs. Yet despite the panic clawing at my mind, my heartbeat remained strangely calm.
Too calm.
It felt unnatural, like my body hadn’t realized I was afraid yet.
Then I heard it.
The sharp crack of a blaster echoed somewhere ahead of me.
Without thinking, I sprinted toward the sound.
The world around me flickered violently as I ran, pieces of the environment glitching in and out of existence. The ground beneath my feet distorted like a broken screen while distant static buzzed in my ears loudly enough to make my head ache.
And then I saw him.
The blue hedgehog stood a few feet away from me, partially hidden by smoke and dust. His quills were dirty, his body covered in scratches, and exhaustion hung heavily in his posture. Even in the dark, I could tell he had been fighting for a long time.
Oddly enough, I recognized him immediately.
“████ ██████ ███ █ ███ ████ ████ ████ ██████?” I asked breathlessly.
The hedgehog looked over at me and gave a weak smile despite how drained he seemed.
“████ ██████ █ ███ █████,” he replied softly.
Before I could say anything else, the air around us warped.
A horrible screech of static split through the darkness.
Something metallic lunged out from the distortion.
A glitching metal figure appeared beside me so suddenly I barely had time to react before its hand wrapped around my arm. Its grip was impossibly tight, cold metal digging painfully into my skin as if it intended to crush the bone entirely.
I struggled violently, but it didn’t move an inch.
Its body twitched and distorted constantly, pieces of it phasing in and out while glowing red eyes locked onto me without emotion. It looked wrong, like a machine trying desperately to imitate something alive.
Then I heard it.
A loud snap.
Pain exploded through my arm.
I screamed.
My eyes shot open.
Instinctively, I tried to gasp for air, but nothing happened.
Panic immediately surged through me.
I could barely move.
Barely breathe.
Everything around me was blurry and tinted green. Thick fluid surrounded my body, pressing against my fur and quills from every direction. The realization hit me like a freight train.
I was trapped.
My heart began hammering against my ribs.
No.
No, no, no.
Not this.
I slammed my hands against the glass surrounding me, desperately trying to get someone’s attention. The confined space made my chest tighten with fear. Every instinct screamed at me to get out.
The impacts were muffled.
Weak.
The liquid swallowed almost every sound I made.
My breathing became more frantic.
Through the distorted glass, I could barely make out two robots standing beside a monitor. They appeared to be having some sort of conversation, but the fluid distorted everything. Their voices sounded distant and warped, like they were underwater.
One of them suddenly turned toward me.
It had noticed I was awake.
The robot immediately moved to a nearby control panel and began entering commands.
A moment later, the fluid surrounding me began to drain.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
The green liquid receded inch by inch.
As the level dropped, my hearing gradually returned.
The muffled world became clearer.
The robotic voices sharpened.
The hum of machinery filled the room.
Most importantly,
I could breathe again.
I inhaled deeply, coughing as fresh air filled my lungs. My entire body trembled from the sudden rush of relief.
The last remnants of fluid disappeared beneath the floor.
With a hiss, the tube opened.
Cold air immediately washed over me.
I shivered violently.
The temperature difference felt awful after being submerged for so long.
One of the robots stepped forward and offered a towel.
I accepted it without hesitation.
The fabric felt rough against my skin as I dried myself off, wiping away the strange green residue that clung stubbornly to my fur.
It helped.
A little.
I was still freezing.
More importantly, I was confused.
How did I get here?
The interrogation room…
The television…
The doctor…
My thoughts stalled.
Then the memories came flooding back.
Silas.
The attack.
The punches.
The blood.
The room that was spinning around me.
The darkness.
Fear immediately crawled down my spine.
My head snapped around the room.
I searched every corner.
Every doorway.
Every shadow.
Looking for him.
Looking for those glowing red eyes.
Looking for any sign that he was nearby.
Nothing.
“Miss, please take these. Your current clothes are heavily stained and ruined.”
I turned toward the robot.
It was now holding a neatly folded bundle of clothing.
I hesitated.
Then reluctantly accepted them.
The second robot took the soaked towel from my hands before quietly leaving the room.
The first robot motioned for me to follow.
It led me into a small changing room.
The space was barely larger than a closet.
A mirror hung on one wall.
Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of me.
I looked.
Immediately, I regretted it.
I looked awful.
My shirt was stained with dried blood, particularly around the collar and neckline. Several tears ran through the fabric. Bruises colored portions of my face and arms.
The healing fluid had apparently repaired most of the serious damage to my muzzle.
Mostly.
Thin scars remained where injuries had once been.
My stomach sank.
I looked like someone who had survived an accident.
Or a beating.
Which, technically, I had.
I stared at my reflection for a long moment before forcing myself to look away.
Eventually, I changed into clean clothes.
The fresh fabric felt considerably better than the damp, bloodstained mess I’d been wearing.
As I adjusted the collar, my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Back to the dream.
A better fitting word was nightmare with how I kept having them. I honestly couldn’t tell if it was a nightmare or a dream, it’s been so long I’ve had a decent dream that wasn't a nightmare, in the last nightmare I had There had been a blue hedgehog.
Orange eyes.
Dust.
Ash, maybe.
The details felt frustratingly blurry.
Every time I tried focusing on the memory, it seemed to slip away.
Like trying to grab smoke.
I sighed heavily.
Whatever it had meant, I couldn’t remember enough to make sense of it.
After fixing my quills as best I could, I left the changing room.
The first robot was waiting.
It extended its hands.
“May I have your old clothes, Miss?”
I handed them over.
The robot thanked me before carrying them away.
Something about all of this felt wrong.
Not the usual kind of wrong.
A different kind.
The robots were acting… nicer.
Polite.
Careful.
Almost apologetic.
That disturbed me far more than outright hostility.
A third robot entered shortly afterward.
“Please follow me.”
I reluctantly complied.
Soon we were walking through the facility once again.
The dreaded Baker-Miller pink hallways stretched endlessly before us.
The walls looked like they were trying desperately to convince me everything was fine.
Everything was not fine.
This time, however, something had changed.
Music.
Soft piano echoed throughout the facility.
I recognized it almost immediately.
Clair de Lune.
The beautiful melody drifted through the corridors.
Calm.
Elegant.
Peaceful.
I hated it.
Not because of the song itself.
Because of where it was being played.
The music felt wrong here.
Artificial.
Manufactured.
A beautiful mask covering something rotten underneath.
As I listened, a disturbing thought entered my mind.
Maybe the music wasn’t for comfort.
Maybe it was to hide something.
After all…
Music was excellent at drowning out other noises.
Like machinery.
Or crying.
Or screaming.
My ears flattened.
I couldn’t even see where the music was coming from.
There weren’t any visible speakers.
The sound simply existed.
Follow us.
Watching us.
The longer I walked, the more uncomfortable I became.
My bare feet ached against the polished marble floor.
Each step sent small pains through my body.
Eventually, we stopped before another door.
This one looked familiar.
The robot entered a code.
The lock disengaged.
The door slid open.
My living quarters.
The robot stepped aside.
No explanation.
No instructions.
Simply allowing me to enter.
I didn’t waste the opportunity.
The moment I stepped inside, the door hissed shut behind me.
Finally, I was Alone again.
At least, as alone as someone could be while living in one of the doctor’s facilities.
I glanced around the room.
Everything appeared mostly unchanged.
Except for a note sitting on the table.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I picked it up.
Good morning, Miss Rose.
You have been unconscious for three days.
I apologize for what Silas did.
– Robotnik
I stared at the note.
Then crumpled it into a ball.
And threw it directly into the trash.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered.
Like that apology meant anything.
At least the living quarters weren’t painted in that awful shade of pink.
The pale blue walls were significantly easier on the eyes.
Eventually, I wandered into the kitchen area.
The cabinets contained a small amount of food.
Then I found another note.
Do not eat. We require your participation in an experiment later today.
My blood ran cold.
Experiment.
The word alone made me sick.
My worst fear had come true.
The interrogations hadn’t worked.
Now they were moving on to something else.
My hands began shaking.
I quickly set the note down.
Trying not to think about what kind of experiment Eggman had planned.
Trying and failing.
Needing a distraction, I looked around the room.
That’s when I noticed the bookshelf.
Something had changed.
Several books were different.
Someone had rearranged the collection while I was unconscious.
Suspicious, I approached.
Most of the titles were unfamiliar.
Then one immediately caught my eye.
A vampire romance novel.
I stared at it.
“…Are we serious right now?”
There was only one person I could think of who would willingly read something like this.
Against my better judgment, I opened the book.
A mistake.
A terrible mistake.
The very first page assaulted me with paragraphs describing someone’s “dangerously alluring crimson gaze” and “impossibly handsome features.”
I physically gagged.
“Nope.”
I almost slammed it shut right then and there.
Honestly, this felt intentional.
Either Eggman was mocking me.
Or torturing me.
Possibly both.
With a defeated sigh, I dropped onto the couch and continued reading.
Not because I liked it.
Far from it.
But because it was something to do while I waited for whatever horrible experiment Eggman had planned.
Unfortunately, every page only confirmed my original conclusion.
It was still an absolutely awful romance novel.