So I think. Maybe… just maybe… it is.
After Spitfire leaves, that day, things change. Not dramatically, hay no. But a little.
For one, Soarin and I eat breakfast together, these days. No, that’s not quite accurate. I can’t eat right, even a full two weeks after coming “home”. Pancakes are too big, a pie is too hot, and eggs are too much like… like… like seeing pieces of shredded skin. Something I’ve seen too often. I guess tea works. And Soarin’s been making shakes, but he won’t tell me what’s in them. They’re not bad, so I drink them. And it makes him happy, which… is good to see. Mostly, I just sit there, sipping my drink, while he eats something.
Today, I have a tea. Wildberry, if you’re wondering. Soarin has pancakes on his plate, already half-gone. From the smell, I think they’re blueberry. I don’t really care. He eats what he wants, and it’s none of my business.
We’ve been eating in silence, as always, each focused on our own meal. Yeah, things have changed. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed. Deal with it.
The day is looking to be like any other. After breakfast, Soarin will shower. I’ll go to my room, and watch the clouds drift by. Some fast, some slow. It’s reassuring. At least there’s something constant that I can count on. And the pegasi stay far away from this house. Far, far away. It’s good. It’s better to heal, before letting ponies see your wounds.
“Dash, we’re going Hearth’s Warming shopping today.” Soarin announces, tone… rather excited, actually. Immediately, I flinch, before I can even hear what he’s saying. I don’t want him excited. I’ll just let him down, I know, I know all too well.
And then I hear what he says.
“Sh-Shopping?” I repeat. I clench the mug tighter. The heat seeps through its sides, warming my hooves. It’s uncomfortable. So, I take my hooves off, and instead, fold them into my lap.
“Yep!” Soarin nods. I notice his eyes, then. He’s watching me, intently, but trying not to let me see it. He really wants this. An outing, just a colt with his marefriend? Or… or… something else.
Ah. At that, I think I get it. Of course! It’s a test. He wants me to pass, but he doesn’t know if I will.
That’s confusing? Let me spell it out.
Shopping will mean flying. If desired store is in Ponyville, we have to fly down. If desired store is in Cloudsdale, we have to fly up. Either way, it means flying. And if I can’t do it, then he’ll want to carry me wherever. To humiliate me. To show me who’s in charge. To throw it out there, that Rainbow Dash can’t fly!
“No.” I say it flatly. He doesn’t get to humiliate me, he doesn’t get to show me who’s in charge, and he doesn’t get to show everypony that Rainbow Dash can’t fly. Sorry. Not.
“Yes.” Soarin answers, calmly cutting off another square of pancake.
“No,” I answer, letting my tone grow harder; angrier. “I’m not going.” Think I sound like a filly, talking back? Maybe I do.
“Dash, you’ve hardly left the house – and neither have I,” Soarin looks up, right at me. He holds his hoof up, cutting me short before I can retort. “It isn’t healthy for a pony to stay inside so long. You need the fresh air, I need the fresh air, and we need the Hearth’s Warming gifts. And… and… I-I really want you to come with.”
Once upon a time, in a life where there was no war, no hurt, no training, I would have made a crack about Twilight, and how she could stay inside for all her immortal life. But, in this life, a life where there was too much war, too much hurt, too much training, I don’t make a crack about Twilight, and nothing about how she could stay inside for all of her immortal life. I say nothing.
Once upon a time, in a life where there was no dead ponies, everywhere one looked, in a life where there were no killers, no yells of combat, I would have jumped at the chance to spend a day with Soarin. After all, life as a Wonderbolt was busy. If we had a spare moment, why not spend it together? But, in this life, a life where dead ponies lay everywhere, in every corner, in a life with killers lurking wherever one was least expecting them, and yells of combat so long gone, yet forever emblazed into memory… I don’t jump at the change. I say nothing.
“Dash, c’mon,” He reaches across the table. His voice is gentle, coaxing, as though if he drops low enough, he’ll entice me into a trap. Does he want my hoof? My hoof is just fine, thank you very much. I don’t want to be touched right now, thank you very much. I want to leave, flee to my room, thank you very much. He takes his hoof back. I watch. “What if I told you that you don’t have to fly?”
“I won’t go.” I answer.
“Dash, please,” he whispers. Does he want me humiliated so badly? Does he want to flaunt my weaknesses so badly?
One should never trust. Know why?
Cause they always let you down, eventually.
“No,” I say, easing off my chair. I leave my tea where it is – Soarin can put it away. I am in charge, not him. He will not humiliate me, I could humiliate him. I cannot fly, and I will not fly. “No.” With that final, harsh word, I turn and leave. My hoofsteps echo across the kitchen, at least the first few. Then, of course, Soarin starts talking, this time, with a tone that almost comes across as worried.
“Dash, you okay?” He wants to come after me; it’s like he wants to give me a hug. I can tell, from his tone, from his posture, from his eyes. Yet, he won’t. He has respect for me – and… I guess I could give him that. But I won’t. He better have respect for me. In fact, I would very much like some fear out of him, at the moment.
“I. Am.” I bite. I don’t look back; don’t slow down. “Fine.”
I had hoped – had even thought – he understood. I had hoped, that if he didn’t, he’d at least try. I had hoped that he could be a friend, not a foe.
What had gone wrong? I… I had truly hoped I could trust him. I had hoped he wouldn’t try… something like this.
Was it my fault? I have to think, as I trot up the stairs. I just want to go to my room, and close the curtains. Curtains he had opened this morning, because we had both thought, early in the morning, after he woke me up – the first time he had had to, actually, because last night, I slept through, and didn’t wake from a nightmare – that today would be a good day. A day to overcome.
The first thing I do, upon entering my room, is close the curtains. Then, I run back to the door, make sure it’s latched tightly – both locks. I can’t have an intruder, I can’t have Soarin, try to come in.
The room’s dark now. Completely pitch-black. It’s comforting, in a way. But also… terrible. I’m on edge, I realize it only now. Right, right. Time to take inventory. If I’m in doubt, I must secure myself.
Hot? Yes. Cold? Yes. Trembling? Yes. Scared? Y-Yes. On guard: mentally? No. On guard: physically? No.
I’m not ready to fight. I’m not prepared to fight. I can’t fight.
I… I feel like screaming.
I feel like… like I did… then.
And then, the world disappears in a flash of light. Light, just like the great flicker of a unicorn’s horn as it casts a shot aimed to kill. The world disappears, and once again, I am lost in my mind.
I scream. My scream is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It’s ripping out of me, so harsh I can feel it. I’m cutting through the air with my voice, slicing through the wind, and snow. I’ve never felt anything like it. I’m so scared. Who have I become? Why am I here? Why am I screaming, and not doing anything? Oh, silly little Dashie! You’ve become an adult, that’s who! You’re here because you agreed to it! You’re not doing anything, because you can’t! See, Dashie? They’re surrounding you! All these ponies in black, does it scare you, that you can’t see their eyes? Only their teeth? Hmm… they look a little like a bat-pony’s, don’t you think? DASH! THINK! SNAP OUT OF IT! They’re coming closer now, do you see them circling? They’re swaying closer, creeping closer, until they pounce. You better be prepared for the pounce, you know it’s coming, you know it, Dashie… Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia. They can’t be doing this.
“No! No! No! NO!” I don’t know what I’m screaming. I know I’m finished. I don’t know what to do. I know they’re going to finish me. I don’t know why I’m still alive. I know they’re going to kill me.
I feel like a filly, yelling at the bullies, to just leave me alone.
Only this time, they’re not bullies. They’re monsters. Monsters, cloaked in black, with grim white smiles, and shining metal blades.
I feel like a filly, yelling at the bullies, and then they leave me alone.
Only this time, they’re monsters, and they don’t leave me alone. They’re coming in, with their chains, and their ropes, and their blades, and their fires, and their horrid grins.
“No! No! NO!” I can’t stop yelling. At the start of this war, I held it in. I bore it quietly, even when the others tore their voice apart. Now it’s my turn. Now my own voice is breaking, tearing apart, ripping up.
Somepony throws something. I can’t see it. They must have cast an invisibility spell on it.
I can’t see it, but I can feel it.
It must have been a knife. If not, something sharp. Something sharp, surely tainted with some drug. Benzodiazepines? That would be my best guess, but what would I know? I would know nothing; I’m too scared to think, I can’t think, I can’t think at all.
Actually, I remember one thing. It’s odd. But the one thing I remember is reading something, once upon a time, not too long ago. About being killed. I can’t remember when, or why, or even what exactly; I can’t think. The ponies are coming, oh Celestia, they’re pouncing NOW! Dash, you prepared?
No, I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. I need to fly, DASH! Yeah, right, open wings, shoot into the air, ready to fight and flee.
Rope. Chain. Fire. Grunts. Black. Red. Pain. Lots of pain. Lots and lots of pain.
Now I’m on the floor. It should be cold, there’s so much snow, I think. It should be soft, because of the snow – heya Dashie? Remember when you built snowponies with Soarin, was it last winter? Ah, that was a fun time, remember? Dashie, remember? Remember? – but it’s so hard. Hard like cement. Rocky like gravel. Hot like fire. Cold like snow.
I can’t move. There’s a heat rushing through me, rushing out of me. Blood. That’s what it is, I know. It’s sticking to my legs, my wings, my hips, my mane. Where am I bleeding? I have to stop the blood, otherwise I’ll die.
Right. It’s because I can’t. Now my wings are tied tight to me, with something that burns as much as walking straight into a fire. Maybe I am in a fire. That would explain the heat. But there’s no flames, none that I can see. Stupid Dash! They’ve blindfolded you, of course you can’t see.
You wanna know what it was, the one thing I remember? It’s pretty funny, actually.
It’s that most ponies, ponies that are getting killed, that is, die while screaming “no” over and over again.
I know, right?
Hilarious.