It was Tuesday evening. The night was scheduled with a heavy rain over Canterlot, and in the old town, not a single pony was seen on the streets, apart from the castle guards. The old town was a dark place over all. By tradition only the castle was lit at night and it stood out from its surroundings as a lighthouse in an empty sea.
The new town was a bit different. There was a few ponies on the streets, walking home from work or to the brief night-life one would find on a weekday. The bright lights from the warehouses and buildings mirrored in the puddles and the rain drenched facades. The neon from the clubs and restaurants, combined with the street light gave the town a dim glow in the rain.
As a contrast, the penthouse on the top of 53. Harmony Boulevard was completely black. Located on the sixth floor, it was impossible for anypony to peek through the windows, save for perhaps a nosy pegasus. But there was no nosy pegasus around at this hour. But if there had been, he or she might have seen the motionless figure of a mare laying on the floor in the living room.
The mare hadn’t moved for almost an hour. One could almost believe she was asleep, only a close examination would reveal that her eyes was not closed. All of a sudden, she jerked herself up from the floor. It was almost like a deer’s reaction to fire. She was trying to flee. But the burst of energy seemed to withdraw immediately as she found no were to run. And now she just stood there.
Minutes passed, still not a movement. But slowly, like a sleepwalker, she started to move. Anyone else would have trouble navigation through the dark rooms, but not her. She owned the apartment, she had been living there for over five years. She knew her way. She disappeared totally in the dark. Then, the sound of hooves ceased, replaced by the squeaking of a door, and the sound of glass against glass. Another squeak, and a light *bomp*. The hoof steps returned, and the mare was once again visible. Even in the dim light from the rainy night, a bottle of Captain Hoofbeard and a glass was visible in her hooves. She lay down, poured herself a generous glass and drank it in one go.
The strong liquor prompted no visible reaction from her. She stared at the window for some time, then she poured another glass. This one, she sipped slowly. She lay down completely, her hooves stretched in every direction and her head pressed to the floor. Suddenly her left hoof caught onto something. Something thin, and crisp. A piece of paper. A letter. She sat up, and brought it up to her face to read. For anyone else, it would have been impossible to see in the darkness, but this was not the first time she read it. Not even the tenth. She closed her eyes, and her mouth started to move. No sound came out, and her eyes was not on the paper. It was not necessary. She knew every word.
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What do you see when you look in a mirror? The sun herself, majestically placed in the sky high above everypony else? Was that how you felt the day we met? Like you showed some generosity, some mercy, letting some poor silly pony rest a while in the bright light of you.
Was this just some kind of power trip for you? Throwing some love to somepony who never really experienced it. Give a starving heart more than it can take and watch it explode? I guess you was delighted when you found me. Poor silly little me. The nerd who never loved. The geek who only was interested in her music. The stiff, standing in a corner, awkwardly watching the world without understanding anything other than the counterpoint or tritone. Did you hit on me because you felt sorry for me? Did you flirt with me and kept asking me out because I was a charity case? Did you feel like you did me a favour when you decided to make me yours? That I would benefit, even be grateful
You dragged me into your life like a tornado. Everything spun, there was no up, and the only way out was to be thrown away. And the only thing left was a trail of disaster.
You said I should be grateful for all the good things you showed me.
Grateful? GRATEFUL? For what, exactly for what, shall I be grateful to you? Well, maybe there are some things.
Actually, it's just one thing. You showed me how wonderful it was to really be with a mare. The feeling of your hooves over me... You're a sexgod a bloody succubus.
You showed me how great it was to let loose once in a while.
You made me have my first drink. No, that's wrong. You FORCED me to have my first drink. And the second. And third. By the tenth, I was like you wanted me. Thanks.
You showed me a total disrespect for my type of music, calling it ”boring” and ”uninspired”. Yeah, because telling someone that you should use your talent "for something that actually is worth listening to" is sooo inspiring. Not once did you come to listen to me unless I forced you. Or offered you free drinks. YOU had a career, you said. I was just "waiting for the correct interpretation of my cutie mark".
Over all, you showed me that you wanted me to adapt to your way of life. But you didn't care shit about mine.
You said once that trust is more important than monogamy. Now, I’m not as old-fashioned as everypony loves to believe. I KNOW what polysexual means. I knew that before we met. I was okay with you seeing others. If that made you happy, that was... I can't believe I did all that because of you, what was I
thin I don’t know what trust is to you, but to me, trust is to mean what you say. Trust is to honour a promise. Trust is the ability to have faith in somepony else.
If you want somepony’s trust, you don't stay away from home for three days without a call. You don't go to Las Pegasus with that bitch Fleur for the weekend when your marefriend is waiting in a hotel room in Manehattan. And TARTARUS NO YOU DON'T, when you're found in bed with three wonderbolts by your marefriend, respond with ”stop being stiff and jump in”.
All the times you said you loved me, that what we had was special, that I had touched your soul. You love to play the romantic type. I admit, it was easy to just jump on the romantic train with you. There were days when you made me feel the luckiest mare alive and I would give up everything, even my music to be with you... But there's always that other day, isn't it?
Remember that first date? That movie we went to. About those ponies going to see that big and powerful magician. And in the end, they discovered that he was just a big fake. Just a jerk behind a curtain.
That's you. You have this huge image of yourself, being all high and mighty, while in reality you're just a huge fucking loser standing in a corner hoping nopony will call your bluff. I'm leaving that bloody yellow brick road. You can keep it. That's your life, not mine. But soon I will be gone from your sight. I'm just an irritating itch. Scratch it a few times, and it will go away. You've done it before, you will do it again. And when enough time has passed, everything will be incorporated in your music. "Your sufferings for your art".
You wouldn't recognize a beautiful thing if it bit your muzzle. And if you did, you would destroy it. Once you get a hoof on something beautiful, you destroy it. And you do it with a smile. There was that look in your eyes. The one you always got when you did something stupid and I was mad at you. When you promised that this was the last time and that you were going to change.
I wanted to believe you, every time I wanted to believe you so much it hurt. It was just like you really cared.
And then, there was that other day. When you didn't.
You probably noticed that I haven’t written your name one single time in this letter. I guess hope you wonder why. It’s simple.
I hate your name. I curse your name. I hope I never ever have to say it loud again to anypony.
I hate you.
Heh, other ponies warned me about you. They called you unreliable, drunkard, womanizer, heartbreaker... sis called you a harlot. Why I didn't listen...
Because I loved you.
I loved you. Merciful Luna, I still love you.
And that makes me hate you even more.
Go fuck yourself, Octavia Melody. You’ll never see me again. I hope you burn in Tartarus for the rest of time.
/Vinyl
P.s. Sis tells me you can shove any more requests for dresses up you derriere. I don't know what she meant, but I hope it will hurt.
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Octavia stared with empty eyes straight into the night. The letter fell from her hoof back onto the dark shadows. For a second, the moon appeared in a stich in the cloudy sky, and her face was fully visible in the dark apartment. Her purple eyes looked bleach, almost blue. Her mouth was slightly open in an emotionless grin. Her cheeks and fur was pale, and whether there had been tears there that long ago had dried, or if there never had been any tears there at all was impossible to say. The only thing that was certain was that she had half a bottle of Hoofbeard left. And the morning was still many hours away.