To my left, opposite of the closed-off room, stood a lone uniformed stallion keeping watch solely over me and to keep me from running. Not that I planned to, anyways. Behind the shut frosted-glass door, the muffled chatter between the school's principal and my mother was all to be heard.
With droopy ears and little regard for my current surroundings, I faced down to my cuffed hooves. For all I knew, the officer was contemplating bringing me to the base north of here.
Our town didn't have need for a police department, or a Royal Guard division, like most cities had. Because Gander Cove is so small, the naval base was technically our police force, and military police were the only authority. They could not be deployed, so no matter the circumstance, they would always have a presence in town.
"He insulted my father..." my inner voice said.
It apparently wasn't my inner voice, but instead my actual voice, because the officer replied to it out of the blue.
"Violence is in no shape or form the correct response, kid."
I didn't bother looking up. My heart ached further. Now I had to talk to him.
"He disrespected him. He threatened me."
I assume he looked at me then. The sudden feeling of him watching ran like a cold chill up my spine.
"Who is your father? Is he deceased?" The officer asked.
Slowly and briefly I shook my head. "No, sir. He deployed recently."
"What was his name?"
"Sea Current."
No response.
My gaze shifted up to the officer slowly after a few moments of silence. I'd noted he had taken a seat on the wood bench to my left.
"The name is carried about, though I have not personally met your father."
"So, you do know him?"
"Know of him, yes," the officer nodded, removing his cap and keeping faced forward. "Violence is still no good answer, son."
"I... couldn't help it," my teeth lightly grit. Brief memories of my hooves striking painfully into Cobalt's muzzle flashed back, forcing me to wince. "He was just so obnoxious... then he decided to insult him! I... had enough."
"I understand that," he said, this time with a little more care in his tone above the flatness. "But, did he attack you first? Were you in any sort of danger?"
"He tossed me against the locker and held me there for a short period... after that, I... walked away. Then I heard him mumble those words, and... I lost it."
"So there was provocation?"
"Sort of... the insults w-were what did me in," I lifted a chained hoof, bringing the other up with it, and wiped a tear away.
"I see," the officer went back to his flat tone, with no further reply after that.
My body weakly trembled. Half of it was out of fear of being sent off to jail, or something of that matter. I would become more of a known name around town, and in the worst imaginable way. News didn't usually take long to spread. This would explode.
With no notice beforehand, the metallic clicking of hoofcuffs releasing caught my attention. My tear-glazed eyes opened, now staring down at a pair of uncuffed hooves. Free hooves.
My head snapped up with surprise to the officer, who tucked the cuffs into a pocket with only one hanging out, the key along with them. He stood slowly, then turned to face down at me.
"Your side is more than enough of what I need. I will speak with your teacher, as well as the principal, when you head home," he stared cement.
"Th-thank you..." I shuddered out and nodded my head once, slowly and respectfully.
"Just doing my job. I am sorry you were forced to go through this," he returned the nod, just as the principal's office door swung open. Out stepped my mother, the principal and my class' teacher standing in the doorway as she exited.
The officer shifted his gaze back to me as I stood. "Take care, kid."
Nodding a second time, my focus moved to Mom, stepping up to her side with my head slightly low.
"Come on, Anchorage. L-let's go home," she said, voice broken.
⚓
Second through the door, first on the staircase. Only a few steps up, Mom's throat cleared as she stopped. I froze immediately, peeking nervously over the wood railing down at her.
"Why, Anchorage? Why did you do this?" She weakly spoke.
"Mom, I—"
"Do you have any idea what this means for you? For me? For all of us?!" Her voice raised by the word.
I winced. To have her raise her voice like this was never a good feeling. It resembled an arrow to the heart, and not in the love sort of way.
"I... Mom, please. Let me expl—"
"Do you have any idea? Do you?! Damn it!"
It just got worse. Now came the word only Dad ever used.
"Please, Mom—"
"Anchorage, it's bad enough your father is deployed. Worse yet, I am left alone to take care of... a troublemaker, a school bully!"
"Mom, I didn't want to!"
"You didn't want to what?!" She practically screamed, hoof stomping on the hard wood.
I jumped, recoiling back away from the railing. Never had I seen her this angry in my life. She was tearing up, too, which was worse.
"Mom, I..." I collected myself and breathed out. "I... think it is best if I go upstairs. It's... really been a long day, and... you should rest too, okay? We can, uh... talk about this tomorrow, first thing."
The tears began falling down Mom's cheeks. Sniffling heavily, she nodded after a few moments and turned away, hoof raised to her muzzle to hold back. No further word was said.
Lowering my chin, I sighed quietly, trekking the staircase slowly and up to my room down the hall. For once, the door was not shut all of the way when I'd left it alone. Crawling into bed, I paid no mind to undressing, instead laying down with my jacket still on and looping both forehooves around the pillow carefully.
Above my steady breathing, the single sound emanating from downstairs was the heartbreaking wail of Mom's sobbing, which had gotten progressively worse day in and day out.
I think from that moment on, I found myself, for the first time since foalhood, crying myself to sleep. Silently.
⚓
Early the following morning, my body rose from the silky sheets, having not budged from the same position at all throughout the duration of the night. Shifting upright, my shoulders collapsed back down, eyes tiredly gazing upward, the blurriness fading gradually.
While I could not be for certain, my eyes felt red and puffy. At any moment I expected to come across a mirror, and the first thing I would notice is my tear-strained eyeballs. Perhaps even bloodshot, too.
Coming to my senses, every nerve in my body tingled as if being tickled by a feather. My heart pumped quickly yet gently in my chest, and I took in shaky breaths.
God, what was wrong with me? I have never been like this after waking up in my life.
This must be what it feels like to have anxiety.
I took in slow, deep breaths, so as to hopefully slow my heart rate a tad. The tingling all throughout my body did not cease. To be quite frank, it simply worsened. Short after, I found myself breathing heavily. Heavy enough to hear.
A hoof lifted up to my lower throat, lifting and settling while pressed to the rapid inflation-deflation of my lungs.
The room seemed to darken, as if nightfall had already come and time was speeding right through it. Everything in my room faded away as I zoned out. The voice in my head repeated the words 'make it stop' over and over, gradually getting louder as if coming closer and closer.
"Please, make it stop. Please, make it stop. Please, make it stop. Please, make it stop," the voice echoed, incrementally growing in volume.
A crushing pressure grasped either sides of my head, over the temple, squeezing tighter and harder by the second. At each and every squeeze came a surge of pain that became more excruciating the longer it ensued.
"Please, just... make it stop. Please!" it begged further.
"Help me..." it cried. There was no help in sight. There was nothing.
In the blink of an eye and a gasp, everything returned. I was back in my room, flanks rested on the edge of my bed with my hinds hanging off, just mere inches from the wood surface.
Before a full realization could be made, both hooves released their tight grip on my temples, relieving the pressure they were creating and granting the blood in my head space to flow.
Thoughts raced about my mind. Some of those that caught my attention were ones questioning whether or not I had just inconspicuously made an attempt to kill myself. That could have explained everything going black around me.
I took in a long, deep breath. A relieving breath. One that eased my body, and my mind, temporarily ceasing the constant thinking that was going on up there.
Sliding gently off the edge and standing on all fours, briefly I stretched, withholding a groan and walking with soft clops of my hooves out of my room and into the bathroom, taking my toothbrush in one and toothpaste in the other, squeezing just the right amount onto the bristles.
As I brushed my teeth, the self-speculation lingered anew. Did I actually just try to kill myself? the voice in my head questioned. Was I just zoning out? came the other possibility.
Determining it would be best to assume the latter, the questions pushed away to focus on other pressing matters. Dad.
A sudden stinging surged in the gum between my teeth, prompting me to yank the brush away. Snapping my gaze to the brush now held in front, with a closer look I examined a spot of light red mixed into the crystal texture of the toothpaste.
A warm fluid dripped onto my tongue, followed by the somehow-familiar taste of iron. I raised my other hoof to my mouth and felt around, then drew it away, now observing a thick drip of blood running down my hoof.
Writhing slightly, I ran my hoof beneath some cold water, watching the blood mix into the water pool and tinge it a faint red shade before disappearing down the drain.
Within my closed maw gathered a ball of saliva, collecting the metallic-tasting fluor. One hack later, and the blood in my mouth now spiraled into the sink and out of sight. Yet, with it gone, the bitter taste remained, resting frustratingly above the mint of the toothpaste. It would take something else to rid the iron from my tongue.
Cleaning off and leaving the wet toothbrush in a cup on the countertop, I made my way back into the hallway and down the staircase, only to freeze upon remembering the talk Mom had hoped to have this morning. Great.
So, cautiously I resumed, muffling my hoofsteps as much as possible against the floor surface. Rounding the lower steps and into the living room, I froze. There sat Mom on the sofa, staring blankly at the stone fireplace.
My throat clenched shut, preventing any words from initially coming out. She knew I was there. She was waiting for me to say something.
Eventually, I discovered my voice had returned. "Mom... I..."
"Please, just, sit down, Anchorage."
Heart rate picking back up, nonchalantly I strode further in to the living room and seating on the leather loveseat.
My gaze lifted, setting solely to the hazel mare situated on the couch opposite. Her eyes sat gently shut, chest gradually rising with every soft breath.
A developing lump of an assortment of words just narrowly held back plugged up in my throat. With a single gulp, I attempted to clear it all completely.
"Mom, I-I—"
"I am sorry."
My ice-blue eyes widened just. "Huh?"
Mom's lids parted, her glassy eyes meeting mine softly. "I am sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?" I asked, swallowing down another larger blockage.
"For how harsh I have been, how I am," she eased slightly. Only slightly. "As of late, I will admit, there has been simply uncalled for bad blood between us."
My ears languished marginally. I let out a deep breath. "There has."
"Neglect yesterday's incident. I now understand your views on the matter, or, I hope to," Mom looked up again. "What was it that Cobalt did that provoked you to such an act of violence?"
"He disrespected Dad. He said such unimaginable phrases about him. He... said he didn't love me for what he named me," my voice cracked somewhere in between.
"And you found yourself in an unnatural rage?"
"Y... yes. I don't know where it came from," my head slowly shook. The tears were beginning to well up.
"It came from you, Anchorage. Only you."
"Mom, I-I... I'm not like this. Please, believe m-me! I'm not like this!"
"I am not talking about that, Anchorage. Everypony has that emotional stress that may feed into a tangent of pure, uncontained hate," she continued softly. "The same occurred to me last night, before you went to bed, albeit I knew to quiet myself before I made the situation worse."
Gradually my gaze fell down, eyes sleek with water. "How have you been handling?"
"What?" Bemused, her head cocked sideways.
"How have you been managing since he departed?" At any moment I expected some sort of heartfelt, or angry response.
A dead silence filled the room. This silence lasted a good minute or two, until a response finally came.
"Not quite effectively or strongly as I should be," she responded lowly. "I have not lost this much sleep since after I graduated, Anchorage. I'm delirious, yet I am wide awake. Alert for the possibility that two ponies may show up at our front door with a folded flag. It... may as well be the true culprit of our conflict."
Slowly, I nodded. "I can concur with that."
"It is time we change that," she stood upright on the hardwood floor. "The sooner this is settled, the happier both of us will be, and the quicker Sea will be home."
Once more, I glanced up. Her hoof sat extended outward in my direction. One look was given to her desperate eyes.
"We have to do this, Anchorage. Otherwise, we are in for severe pain in the future."
Hesitation built. Yet, so much of me desired a course of action.
My hoof raised up, gently taking Mom's, the other three pushing me up. A look of determination crossed both of our faces.
"Let's do this. Together."
⚓
Battling the brisk autumn ocean breeze, both myself and Mom stood, waiting eagerly, for the moment we have been anticipating for more than six months. Dad was finally coming home.
When the announcement came through the mail, me and Mom rushed to prepare, then raced out to the naval docks, where quite nearly the whole town had gathered for a second time.
Many around us, most that is, were joyful. Elated, even. Then, mixed in between, there were those who appeared the exact opposite. Atop the bittersweet moment, deep down, everypony knew someone wouldn't be coming home.
Almost every pony around us scanned the horizontal ocean surface as far as the eye could see for a sign of an approaching vessel. Just like good old Gander Cove, dense fog blanketed the island for miles, hampering any efforts to spot anything approaching.
In the distance, just barely audible, the deep, signature blare of a horn echoed the hills. Both of my ears perked, snapping to my mom with wide-eyes and a large grin. "Did you hear that?!"
Each blast was separated by an exact ten-second interval, done as procedure when entering low visibility. With every blare it made, the louder it became gradually.
Soon after, others caught on to the noise. Celebratory cheering and stomping exploded in the crowd. One pony stood up, shouting. "Look, out there!"
Piercing through the cloud, the shadowed silhouette of a battleship came into view. Moments passed, and another appeared beside it. Then another. All were on a direct course for port, and neither me, nor Mom, could have been filled with more joy.
Exchanging a crushing-tight embrace, the two of us turned and observed the ships come closer, slowing down on their approach.
I felt at ease. For the first time in half a year, with pure happiness, my mind jumped to one thought. The one and only contemplation that had been kept a secret for far longer. With it, my smile faded just slightly.
"Mom?"
"Yes, my darling?"
"I... I want to be just like Dad. I want to be a sailor."