//------------------------------// // Ch.05: Death or Determination // Story: Tapestry: A World Apart // by Star Scraper //------------------------------// Her body moved, but her mind didn't move with it. Her sewing machine had broken, so she simply sorted her shop. She felt her wild, unkept mane, how her limbs felt heavy and weak, her pained, sleep-deprived eyes and the nasty grime of not having washed her mane even once in the day. But I washed my mane when I should've gone out after her. I – I she cut her thoughts off, focusing instead on sorting the dresses. Can't wash mane. Bad thing. That was a bad thing, I can't do that! IT KILLED HER. If only I hadn't – she cut her thoughts off again. Ever since she refused to go to the Hearth's Warming Eve party, she had only fallen further, not having the strength to confront her friends about why she'd chosen to miss it. In her minds' eye, she saw it again – the wonderful dress she'd planned to make Sweetie Belle for the occasion, how everypony would talk about their duet. How they could even do an encore performance at the party, her sweet voice singing Over The Rainbow, gracing the halls of Twilight's new castle. An encore of the duet that never happened, and now never would. She hadn't even thought to turn the lights on in her home, her mind had grown so constantly interrupted and cut off with such thoughts of her sister's death. She'd been confused with constant exhaustion, post-traumatic anxiety and insomnia. So she strained to see and sorted her inventory in the dark boutique. It was lit only by what daylight made its way inside through the windows with their blinds closed. She suddenly realized she was re-sorting the same clothes rack for the third time. She backed away, trotting into the storage closet, making her way to a corner to begin another sort. Sweetie Belle caught her eye – she whipped her head around just to find filly-sized costumes. But ones she recognized – ones Sweetie had worn, but Sweetie herself, of course, gone. The pale, lifeless corpse she had seen in the morgue popped into her mind again. My fault, the words came along with it. She quickly kicked the thoughts out, shaking her head, focusing on the task at hoof. In front of her was a vampire costume, an ancient nobility costume, and a whole rack of extravagant medieval designs for a play all three of the Crusaders had put on. The costumes were perfect! Sweetie had shouted furiously. The same confusion she felt then came over her again. But I can't talk to you, now. I can't ask for your forgiveness any more and talk to you. She tried to remember – that afternoon. The last afternoon Sweetie had stormed in, mad at her – but she couldn't. The words were a blur, a haze of yelling and weak replies – and some horrible, distasteful remark about – she gasped. You aren't the only thing in my life! There are more important things than some filly's recital! She grabbed the clothes rack and threw it to the ground, “NO THERE AREN'T!” she screamed at her old self, tears welling in her eyes. “There-there aren't more important things! It wasn't just some filly's recital... It was... It was our recital...” Damnit, if only I hadn't said that – if I hadn't thought that – why didn't I appreciate you!? Didn't I learn my lesson with the Sisterhooves Social!? With your play!? And I was even looking forward to this one – I was looking forward to it, how did I forget? All that practicing and I forgot! All that sweet music we sang together and – and –! She stood, panting, tears running down her face. She sprinted up the stairs, straight to Sweetie's room. She didn't know who she was yelling at, but she had to yell. “Isn't there anything I can do!? Nothing at all!? Anything at all!? I just – I just want to apologize! To take back my stupidity! To check on you one more time Saturday night, to see you're not just a bundle of blankets! Sweetie Belle, oh Sweetie Belle!” she cried at the ceiling, just imagining, pretending just one more time she could hear her squeaky little voice answer. She turned around, some part of her imagination hoping to see the little filly standing in the doorway, but instead she saw the old crayon art piece next to it. The poster she'd made the day before the Sisterhooves Social, of her and Rarity in a big heart, trimmed with baby blue sapphires. She'd screamed when Sweetie first proudly displayed it to her, only that time she could apologize. That time she could make it right. But this time, the poster was torn down the middle. She began to shake. “A-are you...” she walked towards the poster. “O-of course! You were mad at me! Of course you were mad at me! You tore the poster and you were right to! What I did was criminal! And it was all my fault! And I've known it this whole time! I didn't tell mom or dad, I didn't tell the doctors, I didn't tell my friends – nopony knows what happened, except the one who brought you into the hospital found you frozen by the pond. Classic murder case. Classic murder case! I even turned everypony away at the door, even mom and dad and my friends! – oh, classic move, Rarity, they're all sure to think I'm guilty now – but aren't I!? You died angry at me, Sweetie Belle! You died angry! And I deserve it!” her voice had grown angry and desperate towards the end. She depended on me for everything, for love, for guidance, for confirmation – I had to show up to our recital, no matter how exhausted I was. I had to! It was a duet, she was counting on me! But I didn't, and so it's my fault. They'd be right to think I'm guilty – to hang me right in town square! She could see it in her mind's eye; booing, angry mobs. The Sister-killer. “Sister-killer! Sister-killer!” she shouted – she wasn't sure what she flung across the room, but she had to throw something, something had to be the subject of her anger. Something had to pay. “It's all my fault! It's all my fault!” she cried, starting to sob again. “That's why I couldn't tell mom and dad, that's why I couldn't tell my friends, or even the hospital! Because I know I'm guilty! I know who's responsible!” she was panting madly, the room was spinning around her. She sat down, putting her hooves over her face. And it's never getting better. You're never coming back! You're dead and I'm not, even though it's my fault! Nothing can ever fix this, that sewing machine - Besty isn't repairing herself, either, I'm never letting myself sew another stitch after what happened to you! But I can't live like this – I can't not create! But I can't create! You're dead and I'm alive and it's my fault! I'm guilty for your murder, that's why I couldn't tell dad! I know the solution – there's one solution to all of this! One and only one way to make this right. The same way other murderers make amends in all those Shadow Spade mystery novels. She shakily stood up, and started walking down the hall. I have to do this. I have to. You're dead and I'm alive and it's my fault and that's not right! I'm the guilty one, I should pay the price, not you! The walk accelerated into a trot as she descended the stairs. You're never coming back, ever. I screwed up. This boutique is already doomed to be empty forever. And it's because of me and nopony else. Me! I'm the culprit! I'm the reason you're dead! Her shaking grew more intense as she surveyed her boutique and picked a spot. A stage. Just like it ought to be. It ought to be public, but I'm too much a coward to let everypony know I'm guilty. But they'll know. They'll know for your sake, Sweetie Belle. And I deserve it! For what I did to you! This is what would've – what should happen. I'm just making it faster and saving everypony the trouble! I'd turn myself in for murder then ask for the noose to make it right! Using her magic from across the room she yanked a quill and business card from a desk in the corner where customers would pay, and began scribbling on the back of it. She yanked card after card, writing more and more, before finally finishing and setting them on the floor. She laughed at her creativity as she pulled rope from the curtains around the stage and pulled the curtains open. Seeing the corpse of my sewing machine makes me want to throw up. I'll never create again, I'll never be happy again, the two reasons I live are gone now, but that doesn't matter anymore, one last show, one last chic display and the pain will be over and you'll be avenged and everything will finally be right again! She quickly glanced over all the outfits out on display and took one – a red period dress, perfect for a Shadow Spade villain! – and in a flash of magic, she was in it, giving it a twirl as she relished, one more time, the feeling she had lost, like a breath of fresh air. She took the curtain rope in her magic and tied one end to a decorative knob above the stage, and the other end into a slipknot. Then she turned to face the noose. Her heart stopped. She stared at it for a long minute, her heart now racing. Am I... Am I really going to do this? Oh, you'd better, Rarity! Putting the dress on and giving a carefree twirl was fun - so fun, just like old times - but I can't let this go, not any more than I can apologize to Sweetie! I'm never creating again. My career is over. Sweetie Belle is dead. Nopony will want to court and marry a murderer like me, and I should be alone, I deserve it! I made myself alone when I killed Sweetie Belle. I should just die! I do nothing but kill my sister – Twilight was right, ultimately we'll all be dead, anyways. Only this way... Tears began to fall freely down her cheeks as she shook. I set things right. She stepped up on the stage and turned around. As her heart pounded, she blinked away tears to see clearly and looked down on the floor below the stage, realizing she never planned to step down on it again, though she would step off the stage. How dare I even stop to think! I deserve this for what I did! Somepony died because of me! Because of ME! The noose was down to her forehead. She stood up on her hindlegs just behind it. It was a balancing act to stand on only two legs, but a pony with as much poise as herself could balance for a long time. She took a careful, wobbly step forward so she stood on the edge of the stage, the silken loop of rope hanging right in her face. Rearing up on her back legs like this, all she had to do was slip the loop over her head, around her neck, and step off the stage. I-I set things right. She held the curtain rope in her magic. Her ears perked as she thought she heard a few distant notes. A music box upstairs started playing. She recognized the song, but didn't even think to wonder why or how it had started playing. Some part of her head screamed that she pull the noose on and jump off immediately – she twitched as she pulled the loop of rope open around her face, but stopped with it under her chin and the knot still over her forehead. She paused instead, listening to a calmer, gentler part of her mind. She recognized the song. Somewhere Over the Rainbow. She'd memorized it well. I – I get last words before I die, don't I? Murderers get last words! I – I should apologize to Sweetie Belle. A normal apology just won't do for this, but I know just what to – not to say, but to sing. Her hurried rage to kill herself had calmed for a moment, but she slipped the noose on the rest of the way, anyways. No, I don't get to back out of this. This is what I deserve!... but... it can wait a moment. This is the execution I deserve. Just last words. Then I step off and... and die. The prelude on the music box upstairs finished, and the first line began. She sang along in her mind. Somewhere, over the rainbow Way up high There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby I-it's all she wanted... For me to sing with her one more time... So I will, sis... I owe you the whole song. Not one small piece of it. The whole song. We were supposed to sing together. “P-please hangpony, let me sing with my voice clear? One last requiem for my sister?” she said, playing out the drama in her imagination in the dark, empty boutique. She slipped the noose off her neck, lowered herself down onto all fours, and let go of the rope with her magic, letting it flop harmlessly next to her horn. She felt weak from standing bipedal for so long, so she sat down on the stage, looking at the floor she had just barely decided to never step on again, and started talking out loud, gently, sorrowfully, “Oh Sweetie Belle, I even wanted to make our own version, for just the two of us – I finished a third of it, too, before I decided there just wasn't time. Did I ever tell you that? I didn't, did I?... I was so very much looking forward to what ponies would be saying about our duet at the Hearth's Warming Eve party, even doing an encore!... I really was... Let's... Let's do it, together, one last time before they give me what I deserve, and... I'm so, so sorry.” She waited for the music box upstairs to loop, faced up towards the imaginary audience sitting in front of the stage, then sang aloud. “Somewhere, over the rainbow Way up high There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby” The confusion, pain and despair in her mind began to melt away before the notes like cold morning fog under a brilliant, warm sun. She felt reluctant to finish the song and die – she was now unsure if she was hanging herself or being hanged. She just wanted to sing forever. “Somewhere over the rainbow skies are blue And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true” She couldn't bring herself to sing in a showy, ornate voice. Instead of a performance, it was more like a lullaby. A lullaby meant for her little sister. She couldn't hear the music box anymore, and still didn't even think to wonder why it had played. But it didn't play this far into the song, anyways, and she knew what it sounded like. She had harmonized with Sweetie across the entire thing in their last rehearsals. “Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me” For a moment, she forgot everything. She wasn't on a stage about to kill herself. The boutique wasn't dark. She sang next to, along with, and harmonizing with her sister, while sunset bathed the snowy world outside in brilliant hues of orange and gold. She could feel the warmth of the light on her face as she sang. With such passion in her heart, she couldn’t sit any longer, so she stood up to sing properly, as she would’ve at the recital. “where troubles melt like lemondrops So far above the chimney-tops that's where you'll find me “Somewhere, over the rainbow bluebirds fly birds fly over the rainbow why, then oh why can't I?” The raving was gone from her mind. The room was silent, and the blinds were cracked open just enough to let in streaks of setting sunlight. She paused, for a moment confused that Sweetie had vanished – it had felt so normal harmonizing with her again, she didn't even realize she wasn't even there. She looked around the boutique, wide-eyed, realizing it was empty of crowd, executioner, and Sweetie Belle, and she would never hear her sister's singing again. But the raging storm in her mind was gone. A quieter, calmer side of her could now be heard in her mind. She knew Sweetie wouldn't have wanted her to die. All she wanted was to sing with the sister she loved. She felt as though now she had granted that last request to sing for Sweetie Belle. One last time. She fell sideways, laid flat on the stage and cried.