Chapter 1: There’s No Rest for the Oppressed Soul
“Please excuse these, as they are the words of a madpony”
Yep, that’s my opening line. I’m convinced I’m insane, a pony driven to the edge by isolation, alone and desolate. Oh, forgive my rudeness. Let’s begin introductions. My name is Red Tear, and my blade is my only friend, creating a bond between us by cutting my soft skin and through tough muscle, creating a bond that cannot be broken easily. Getting beat up, ridiculed, and being depressed are the staples of my life. This IS a story though, right? So enough introductions, my name is Red Tear, and this is my story. Did I already tell you my name? No matter, let us move on.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been depressed. The only friends I’ve had throughout the years have left me because of my “differences”, my cuts, my immature way of isolating to deal with my problems. My best friend, Subtle Rampage, turned against me. He turned into the pony that treated me the worst out of all the others. From what I’ve heard from other ponies is even Zecora was treated better than I, and she was a zebra! Away from the explanations, let me take you through a few weeks in my horse-shoes.
‘Wake up, eat, go to school, be ridiculed, ignore it, go home, cut, sleep, and repeat. A normal day in my life, more or less. I live in a small house on the outskirts of Ponyville, with my unemployed dad and my OCD mom. The days I go to school are no less hell than the days at home. I face the jeers of my classmates, as my wings are tucked as to cover up the scars along my back, long sleeve shirts always worn to cover up the rest. Nopony gives a damn about me, the odd one out. The fact that I can never open my wings around others doesn’t help. But fuck it, better to be known as a Pegasus scared to fly than a pony not able to deal with stress.’
That is all goes through my head as I lie, trying to sleep. Another day of being treated like shit and dragging by, barely passing my grade. I go home, only to be yelled at by my dad for being useless, and my mom for not doing anything right. My parents pester me if a lazyass like me has a marefriend. A marefriend? Me? HAH! The fillies make fun of me more than the other colts do. Worst part is, the only reprieve I get from all the pain is my guitar, one that Rampage gave to me a few years back, before he turned into a total prick.
I WILL change this part of me, I won't let them beat me down! In my heart I knew though, that the same events as always would happen again.
I stopped thinking long enough to catch some sleep at about 3 a.m.
My alarm, an annoying piece of shit that was basically a loud bell sound, went off. 6:45, great. I got 4 hours of sleep, more than I usually do. I looked out the one dirty, cracked window in my dingy room. The sun was just coming up, and I knew I should leave early, before my parents got up. I rolled out of bed, and trotted to the shower. I turned the water on…….(You sick fucks, I’m not going to describe my shower to you).
I got out, dressed in a long sleeved shirt, my blue and black wings groomed so the feathers were at a point. No matter how many times I showered or put any type of cologne on, I always smelled like smoke, acrid and deterring. The smell probably comes from my dad, who smokes as well as drinks. It's also just my natural smell, being around it for so long. My black mane, blood red at the tips, always gave off a “leave me alone” sort of vibe when combined with the fact that I wear a skull necklace and look like I’m going to kill somepony, which everypony took for the truth. Sure, I enjoyed scaring ponies, and I was big for my age. Standing almost 4’5 at the shoulder, I towered over all other colts and fillies. There was one colt that came close to my height, and that was Subtle Rampage, the only other colt that wore clothes besides me. If anypony looked at the skin underneath my wings, they would notice the numerous scars on my side. My forelegs were covered with them too, which is why I wore clothes.
‘FUCK! Enough of this small talk, I need to leave before my parents wake up!’ I was in a state of panic. A dad hung over was as bad as a dad who was drunk, both pissed off and abusive. I basically darted out the door and over to Ponyville High, otherwise known to me as the “Haven that’s Hell. It was reprieve from the hell at home, yet it was another hell all in its own. As soon as I walked in the double doors, I see the sight I see every day. Fillies and colts, mingling before classes start. I walked down the hallways, the other colts and fillies making a wide berth around me. My hearing had gotten used to the whispering that followed as I walked by, the tall, emo, supposedly gay colt. Every few steps something would get thrown at me, and every time I would Rampage smirking.
‘Rampage….why do you do this now? Why do you hang out with the likes of THEM? You always used to be so nice, you didn’t care that you were made fun of for hanging out with me; you stood by my side and stood up for me. What changed that? ’ I thought, a tear running down my cheek. I quickly wiped it off before Rampage, his marefriend Clairvoyant Dusk, Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon saw it.
I WILL change I said to myself softly. I will change this depression, this ridicule. I'll show them!
Something slammed into the back of my head, causing my vision to turn red for a while. I swear, if anger had a smell, I smelled it right then. I turned my shoulder and walked away from the crowd where I had been hit, stopping to say one word to the one filly that would even listen to me, to try and break the sadness.
Well, one pony to talk to is better than none, right? I thought, determined
“Hey Derpy” I said, my voice choking up. I heard the jeers of the students as they saw me stumble, saw me start to cry. Derpy only smiled back and replied with a simple statement: “Muffins!” then galloped off to hang out with Rainbow Dash and get her muffins. I looked after her, watching the only pony who would talk to me leave, a rising sadness beginning in my heart. Deep in my heart, I knew Derpy didn’t know me, didn’t know she was talking to me. She just saw a shell.
My thoughts were interrupted as an object slammed against the back of my head, making me black out.
A/N: This is my first attempt at a first person fic. It's somewhat of an autobiography, covering events in my life that HAVE happened. The cutting and depression were events that have happened in my life, but they're behind me. I decided to write about them though, and ponify it, as I got the green lights from several of my friends that are also my editors. I made my oc look weak for a REASON! just wait for the next chapters, and you'll understand