//------------------------------//
// Part 1: Break 
// Story: Deflowered. 
// by 576-Belligerent-Coil 
//------------------------------//

	Silver Iris slowly looked up at the mirror mounted on her ceiling, disgusted with the mare lying beside her. She’d hated the girl for a while now. It’d been a long time since Daisy was truly welcome in Iris’s bed. She was so boring, and her yellow mane was a complete eyesore. For the longest time, Iris had ignored that mane... it was too curly to straighten, but the curls weren’t tight enough to bounce like most mare’s… and the color was atrocious. Iris cursed herself for talking Daisy out of dying the bloody thing a year previous. She knew dying required a lot of maintenance, which she didn’t want to deal with at the time. Somehow, Daisy took Iris’s objection as a compliment, like Iris actually liked the color. From then on, whenever they had to dress up a bit, Daisy picked outfits that accentuated the yellow, and Iris could hardly stand to look at her. Like always, though, she suffered through it, pushing her distaste to the back of her mind for the sake of avoiding conflict. Now, though, she was willing to do something about it.
The decision hadn’t come easily. It wasn’t just the mane. It wasn’t how boring the little foal was. No, these things were petty. Iris just couldn’t stand to be with Daisy anymore. She’d come to resent her marefriend for everything she was, everything she represented. Daisy was nothing more than a relic of a time that’d long since left them both behind. They met at a college party, and were introduced by some friend they didn’t even talk to anymore. They’d looked into each other’s eyes as the friend called their names out over the noise of the crowd. “Silver! This is Daisy Duke. Daisy, Silver Iris.”
Iris remembered thinking that the name had to be a joke or a nickname. When she woke up the next morning, though, she looked down at her foreleg, noticing a note scrawled there in permanent marker. “Don’t laugh, it’s actually my name.”
You know, it might not just be the mane, Iris thought to herself.  I really hate her name.
Iris looked up to the mirror once more, this time into her own eyes. Over the past few months, her emerald eyes had grown dull and distant. She knew it was this dead-end relationship, but she hadn’t been able to split up with Daisy. She knew a breakup would devastate the mare. She was going to take mercy on her. She was going to avoid this conflict once again. She was going to spare Daisy the pain. As she plunged the knife into her marefriend’s chest, a small grin crept across her face.
Most of the pain.
Daisy’s eyes snapped open and her mouth widened, her scream silenced by the blood filling her lungs. A tiny bit of blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth, and her eyes began to glaze over. Iris stared into those eyes for what seemed like an eternity. She watched as the last bit of life left Daisy’s body. Even though she knew no one was looking back at her, she couldn’t tear her focus away from the eyes… their ember irises, the contracted pupils. Not a single thought graced Iris as she examined the lifeless eyes. Her mind was crystal clear for the first time in months. As she tried to divert her focus elsewhere, a fly landed on one of Daisy’s cold, open eyes.
Iris snapped. She sat up and shooed the fly away violently, trying desperately to get it to go away. It left her sight and she looked back into Daisy’s eyes, her vision blurring. She felt tears roll down her face and saw them land in the blood that was beginning to pool under Daisy’s chest. The fly landed next to the blood-splattered knife embedded between the mare’s ribs.
“Get off my marefriend, you bastard!” Iris screamed at the fly, attempting to swat it away. Her hoof hit the knife, making Daisy’s body lurch unnaturally. Iris gasped and gently removed the knife from Daisy’s chest. As she did, she looked at her bloodstained hooves in disbelief. She felt a terrible burning sensation on either side of her flank. She looked up at her mirror in time to see what looked like blood creep down her cutie mark, leaving agony in its wake. She frantically felt the area, trying to wipe away the blood. She didn’t feel anything wet, and realized slowly that her cutie mark was changing. The ‘blood’ crept fully down the contours of the three flowers that composed her cutie mark, terminating in a searing drop at the bottom of each.
Iris looked away from her altered mark and back to the pony she’d just murdered in cold blood. She buried her face in her hooves and cried, her sobs deepening until the police broke down the door to her apartment and shackled her, dragging her away from the crime scene roughly. Iris looked at her grisly work one last time.
“Good night, Daisy,” she sobbed. “S-sorry it had to end this way…”

***

Iris’s trial was a short one. Unlike most crimes that took place in Equestria, murder was easily identifiable. The ‘blood’ on Iris’s mark was unmistakable, as the arresting officers noted. Judge Final was surprised they were able to make any notes at the scene, as neither of them previously had the pleasure of investigating a murder. Most officers in Equestria hadn’t. What was more amazing was that they had the presence of mind to actually put the girl in cuffs. They’d skipped normal procedures, much to Final’s chagrin. Even so, she let them off easy, since they’d been expecting to walk in on an affair. After all, the neighbors called the cops saying something about “some crazy bitch screaming about someone banging her marefriend,” which was not at all the case.
Final just hoped Iris’s court appointed lawyer thought it was as open-and-shut as she did.
“Order in the court!” Final yelled, banging her gavel. “Miss Silver Iris, how do you plead?”
Silver Iris was silent. She continued to stare at the table in front of her, oblivious to the rest of the court. The judge looked to her lawyer questioningly, realizing he was smoking in her courtroom.
“Mister Sly! Put that cigarette out now! And for Celestia’s sake, represent your client!”
The stallion took one last drag from his cigarette and snuffed it out in the ashtray he’d hidden in his briefcase. He glanced over at Iris, seeing her changed cutie mark. “She’s guilty. Anyone can see that.”
Judge Final slowly placed her hoof against her forehead, in utter disbelief. “Mister Sly, that is not how you address my question.” She began to rub her temples, feeling a migraine coming on. “This may be an extraordinary case, but do not forget procedure!”
Sly Fox huffed a bit, obviously tired of the whole situation. “My client pleads guilty. Happy?”
Final’s eye twitched a bit at this display of apathy. “Sly, I find you in contempt of court,” she said as the lawyer began to raise his hoof in objection. “I don’t want to hear it. Let’s move on to sentencing.” Final turned to Iris. “Miss Iris,” she said lightly. “Miss Iris!” 
Iris’s head jerked up and she looked at the judge wordlessly.
“Miss Iris, most ponies in your situation choose to exile themselves. This is how it’s been for centuries. In all my days, I haven’t seen a single pony come back from exile.” The judge looked at Iris, then to her uncaring lawyer. If he wasn’t going to help this poor filly, Final had to. “However, you show obvious signs of regret for your actions. Frankly, I think you still have the potential to contribute to society. That’s why I’m suggesting that you take the deal I’m about to offer you and never look back.”
Sly perked up a bit, shocked at the judge’s suggestion. “What deal?”
“You obviously don’t have a part in this, Sly,” the judge said accusingly. “Miss Iris, I am offering you lifetime parole with two conditions. First, we’re going to put a tracking device on you that you cannot remove. Secondly, I’m going to put you in therapy four times a week until your doctor deems you fit to exit the program.”
Iris looked at the judge, tears welling up in her eyes. “How am I supposed to live a normal life with this thing on my flank?”
Judge Final looked at the stained mark with a somber expression on her face. “Miss Iris, that is a living reminder of what you’ve done. Nothing you do can be able to cover it, and you won’t be able to get rid of it on your own. With years of therapy, the blood might fade. By that time, though, everypony will know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. You will never be able to live this down. I’m not suggesting you will live a normal life. I’m simply suggesting you make an effort to live with the rest of us, rather than throwing it all away.”
“I…” Iris didn’t know what to say. She glanced over at her lawyer, who shrugged. Iris took a deep breath and turned to the judge. “I’ll take it.”
"Good choice, Miss Iris." The judge jotted down a note and addressed Iris. "Your therapist will be waiting outside the courtroom to schedule your appointments."
"Um... who's my therapist?"
"The best we have, a certain Princess Mi Amore Cadenza."
A collective gasp was taken by the entire courtroom as a nearly-imperceptible grin crept across Judge Final's face. "I suggest you get moving, Miss Iris. You don't want to keep the Princess waiting."