Pinkamena left.
She said goodnight. She went home. I went to bed.
With Scootaloo coming home in the morning, it would be hard to explain “Pinkie” in my bed without us going public.
I couldn’t sleep.
Going public.
That’s what kept me up. When do I go public?
It was one thing to kill a murderer. To sweep their body under the rug and let them slip into memory.
But I killed a cop.
An innocent cop.
He hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no way I could reason it as a just murderer.
Sure, he had broken into my home but I’ve broken into so many homes it would be hypocritical to say he deserved to die for that.
And he had me dead to rights. Had the tables been turned, I would have strapped a pony like me to a table without a second thought. He had more than enough evidence to warrant a search of my home.
Then they’d discover my trophies.
A part of me tried to reason it as self-preservation. You don’t back an animal into a corner and not expect it to bite and if he seriously thought I was a killer, then it was his fault for dying.
Right?
That thought just made it worse.
Was that all I was? An animal?
After I disposed of Melliot’s body, I spent a lot of time alternating between getting sick and curled up in the shower.
I killed an innocent. I had to accept that.
But something dug its hooks into me and made me feel even worse.
Pinkamena encouraged it. She didn’t hesitate, not even for a second.
And other thoughts started niggling at me after that one realization.
Like how Pinkamena found it odd that I exclusively went after criminals. How she found it a waste of time to need to make sure the pony was 100% guilty.
How I did not once question who she killed in the past.
Dumb old Daymos was head over hooves for her after a few words and stopped thinking with his head.
Then he started thinking with his other head.
With a rising cry of frustration, I leaped out of bed. The clock read midnight and I needed answers.
And then something else hit me.
How matter-of-factly Pinkamena told me she was going to dump me in the lake during our initial meeting. I couldn’t have been the first one she said it to. She said it with such glee, like some sort of Saturday morning cartoon villain gloating. Or B-horror movie killer.
Ponies are creatures of habit and we tend to settle into our ways.
I bury my bodies in the basement.
Where did she dump hers? It was obvious.
And I needed answers.
* * *
I stood at the water’s edge, looking at my reflection in the moonlit lake. Just the other day, I made an off-comment to Applejack about not knowing what lurks in lakes. And right now, I did and didn’t want to know.
But I needed answers.
All sorts of critters call lakes and ponds home, from leeches and slugs to minuscule bacteria only found in standing water. That’s why I don’t swim in lakes. Unless absolutely certain.
Ponyville Lake is large and enjoyed by many looking to cool off, so it’s no surprise I find trash here and there as I dive. Soda cans, candy wrappers, and other garbage.
But it had a lot of plastic garbage bags.
A lot of plastic garbage bags.
I surfaced, getting a much-needed lungful of air and went back down, zeroing in on one of the bags in question. I could see where the one I threw in for Pinkamena was among all the others.
Winter was his name. His bag hadn’t faded from a deep black to grey yet. I counted more bags. At least 20, and that’s without checking to see if bags were resting on other bags.
I came up for another lungful of air. And again. And again.
A lot of ponies went missing, never to be found. And they all rested at the bottom of Ponyville Lake. I just needed to confirm one more thing.
I was looking for the oldest bag I could find and zeroed in on it. It was grey, almost ash, and falling apart. I could see holes in it. Reaching the bag, I grabbed and gave a little tug — only to be greeted by a white, smiling skull belonging to some unlucky unicorn.
A very young, unlucky unicorn.
Not a child, but not an adult. Teen or pre-teen. The horn was still growing. The tip was broken off but looked like it had been healing, so it happened recently and while she was alive. And from the look of the metal clinging to their teeth, they would have been getting out of their braces soon.
Getting to the surface of the lake one last time, I made my way to the shore. I was cold, shivering, and sick to my stomach.
It wasn’t because I swallowed some lake water.
I didn’t care about that.
I didn’t care about much of anything right now.
I trusted Pinkamena because I so desperately wanted someone to take the mask off in front of somepony else and not once thought that maybe, just maybe, she was still wearing her’s.
There’s no way a pony that young does something to deserve death.
Pinkamena was a killer. That much was known.
But she wasn’t a killer like me.
I wanted proof, though. If not to give me clarity than to give me direction. So instead, the mask went back on. Dumb old Daymos knew better now and had plans to make.
Pinkamena wouldn’t know the wiser.
* * *
I’m so used to pulling sleepless nights and hiding it. A few over-the-counter uppers, a shot of espresso, and a cold shower can make even a college grad cramming for finals look ready for picture day.
So Applejack and Scootaloo didn’t bat an eye at me as they walked through the door.
All they saw was dear ol’ Daymos sipping his morning coffee — which may or may not have been my third cup — and reading the morning paper.
I already got over the shock of the headline declaring a local Ponyville Police officer missing and asking the public for help and instead focused on the local columns.
“Welcome back, Scoots!” I said, forcing a bit of joviality into my voice. I really couldn’t deal with this right now. I kept trying to remind myself to keep a distance. To remember this was temporary. I didn’t need this.
“Hiya Daymos!”
Before I could act, she bounded up and threw her hooves around me in a big hug.
“I know I talked to you yesterday, but it’s good to be…” She hesitated for a moment. Then she squeezed a bit tighter. “It’s good to be home.”
As if I didn’t have enough on my mind, this little filly knew just what to say make me feel worse.
Home.
She thinks of my castle as her home.
Not a place to stay and sleep and the nice pony who takes care of her.
She thinks of this as her home.
And I’m part of her home.
It was slow, but I returned the hug.
I remember some children’s story about a grouchy old pony who found friendship after years of scorning it. “His heart grew three sizes that day” is how the ending went if I recall correctly.
But all I could feel is my heart shatter.
The Whisper was right. I got too close. And I was paying for it.
I had my back to a wall, the police could bust down the door any minute if they bought a clue, the pony who knew my entire life was a psychopathic killer with a split personality, and I needed to stop her or I’d be just as responsible for the next garbage bag at the bottom of the lake.
And I had a little filly who thought of me when she thought of home.
“It’s good to have you back,” I managed to say finally.
Scootaloo let go and said something about taking her things upstairs but I couldn’t hear. My whole body went numb. Applejack was saying something and I just smiled and nodded before she tipped her hat and left.
I didn’t need this.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I made my way upstairs and into Scootaloo’s room.
“Hey Scoots, I gotta run a few errands,” I said. The words felt hollow. I felt like I was puppeteering myself. “I’ll be back in a few hours. There’s some salad in the fridge if you get hungry.”
She looked up to me with the bright purple eyes and nodded.
“Sure thing. Have fun!”
“I’ll try.”
And with that, I started down the stairs. I didn’t even realize I was walking down the street until I almost bumped into another pony. I stopped and took a deep breath.
I couldn’t get caught. I couldn’t.
It’d break her heart.
And that thought did it. I found myself repeating that again and again and again. It’d break her heart if I got caught. It would break her heart.
And I couldn’t live with myself if I was the one who broke her heart.
I wasn’t going to turn myself in.
I wasn’t going to get caught.
And I wasn’t going to let Pinkamena get away scot-free.
Even if it killed her.
* * *
The Applewood Reporter is my go-to source for Ponyville’s history and possible killers. I don’t like the Ponyville Library since Twilight moved in, as getting closer to her is always a bad idea.
Just recently, the Reporter moved all of its archives of newspapers onto microfiche, making it so much easier to look back through the years. And considering the paper’s been around for 200 years and publishes seven days a week, there’s a lot to sift through.
I always made the same excuse. That I was a history buff that wanted to see Ponyville’s recent and far past. When asked this time, I explained how I wanted to see if there were any pictures of Honeysuckle when she was alive.
Hot Type, a mare closing in on her 80s, made a cooing sound as I explained that I wanted to find more pictures of Scootaloo’s mother so she had something to remember her by. She let me into the archive without any other questions.
The mask was back on.
I did keep an eye out for Honeysuckle — not that I expected to find her — but was more interested in finding another pony.
They’d be a colt or a filly that disappeared anywhere from two to five years ago based on the rate of decomposition.
A unicorn.
And if I was lucky…
“Ohh no…”
There she was.
Sweet Sorbet.
She went missing three and a half years ago.
You could see her braces in the half-smile of her family photo.
The article said how she could be easily identified by her chipped horn — something that happened a month before she went missing.
She just turned 18.
She was a straight-A student who planned to attend Canterlot University to study culinary science.
As if it wasn’t any more damning, the Reporter quoted her mother.
“I don’t understand. She wouldn’t run away. She’s never even stayed out late once. She’s a good kid who wouldn’t hurt a fly. I just want my baby back.”
A few more articles were printed the following months, asking the public to help in any way they can.
But then that’s it.
I turned off the machine and slowly got to my hooves. I felt numb again.
I could almost see in my mind’s eye. Sweet Sorbet takes a turn down a dark alley. Pinkamena grabs her.
And has her…
Fun.
I needed to confront her. I needed to stop her.
On my terms.
On my table.
I left the Applewood Reporter, letting Hot Type know I couldn’t find anything and that I appreciated her help.
As I left, I ran into the last few ponies I wanted to see today.
Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight Sparkle and three cops.
I felt my mouth go dry but I forced a look of surprise.
“Oh! Twilight!” I looked to the cops and made myself look concerned. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
I was expecting them to move in and arrest me, but they stayed where they were.
Twilight gave me a grave look and nodded slowly. “Yes… there is. Did you see the news today?”
I nodded back. “I read the morning paper. Something about an officer missing, right?”
Melliot.
“Yes. And another pony went missing right along the same time.”
Teller.
“I think there might be a pattern here,” Twilight continued. “So I thought I’d check the Reporter archives for any other missing ponies.”
I could feel the noose tighten around my neck. I spaced out my kills and that a lot of ponies that I got a hold of were from out of town. Others were drifters, ramblers, and the like who revealed a side of themselves they shouldn’t have.
But if Twilight was looking at it, she might notice what no one else has — that a lot of ponies end up missing in Ponyville.
I forced myself to remain calm and nodded. “Oh,” I said flatly. “Well, okay then. The microfiche machine is warmed up for you.”
Seeing the look on her face and expecting the next question, I head her off. “I was looking for any photos that might have Honeysuckle in them.”
“For Scootaloo?” She asks.
I nod. “I looked through some of them, but with how many editions there are, I thought I’d ask Scoots later if she knows if her mom was ever in the paper.”
Twilight gives a sage nod as the three police officers look me over. One of them finally spoke after I mentioned Scootaloo.
“Ohh right, you’re the guy who’s watching the filly,” he said. “The one Melliot was ranting about.”
In that one moment, it was like I was made of glass, and all I needed was a stiff breeze to shatter me. Of all the things that could have possibly said, the only thing that could have been worse is if the cop outright said I was a murder suspect.
“What?” I asked, feigning shock.
The stallion in blue nodded. “Yeah, Melliot swore up and down he didn’t see you in the crowd,” the cop said. Twilight suddenly got very interested.
I had to be very careful about what I said next and fast about. I couldn’t give them any more than they had.
“I don’t know what to say. There was an officer at Honeysuckle’s house that wouldn’t listen to me, but that’s the only other police officer I’ve talked to,” I said, calling back on my previous statement to police. “I gave my statement to Officer Lucky after the whole ordeal.”
Twilight kept looking back and forth to the officers.
“Yeah, that’s him,” the officer grunted. “Melliot has a bad temper and sometimes lets his gut and heart lead him instead of his head.”
I gave a little shrug and made a motion to leave. “Well, if there’s nothing else? Officers, Twilight.”
I got one hoof in front of me before Twilight stopped me.
“Wait.”
I did my best to swallow the sand building in my throat and turned towards her.
“Daymos, would you be willing to make a statement?” It wasn’t so much a question. “Any information, no matter how irrelevant, might be useful in locating the missing pony.”
I gave a smile and nodded, even if every instinct was telling me to scream and run. She’s a predator and I’m the prey. Fight or flight is telling me to get away from the dangerous thing and to safety. But I can’t.
“Sure,” I manage to croak out.
Twilight nods and starts towards the Reporter. “Thank you Daymos. Can I stop by your place tonight? There are some other things I wanted to ask you about.”
I nodded, waved, and cursed myself for not moving out of Ponyville when I had the chance.
My quiet, uncomplicated life has been completely upended and I only had myself to blame.
I walked as calmly as I could off towards Sugarcube Corner. I had Pinkamena dead to rights.
I wanted to confront her, but I knew better. She was a good fighter — better than me — so a head-on confrontation was out of the question.
On top of this, there comes the question of how to make Pinkamena, and by extension Pinkie, disappear.
The thought hurt.
Pinkie is innocent. She may be annoying and a little bit crazy, but she’s innocent. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.
But I couldn’t see any way to get rid of Pinkamena without hurting Pinkie.
And there was no way I could do anything so soon after two disappearances. Two disappearances that I was very close to.
If anyone figured out Teller had something to do with Honeysuckle’s death, they could easily start looking at me, considering how close I was to Scootaloo as a guardian.
And if anyone figured out that Melliot confronted me at Honeysuckle’s house, they could assume I did something to Melliot out of revenge.
And I’m so close to Pinkie Pie, it wouldn’t make sense to look at anyone but me.
No, I needed time.
And to play the game.
I made my way to Sugarcube Corner, getting some sort of plan together. Maybe I could make it look like an accident? Or a mugging gone bad?
Either way, it had to wait.
As I walked through the doors of the bakery and locked eyes with the pink mare behind the counter, I could tell it wasn’t the innocent one.
“Oh, hi Daymos!” Pinkamena said, wearing Pinkie’s face. “How ya doing?”
Sugarcube Corner was dead — it usually was around this time. “It’s… going,” I said with my own forced joviality. “Just running a few errands. And ran into Twilight.”
Pinkamena’s eyes widened a bit and she looked around to confirm there was no one else in the bakery. “Come on, over here,” she said, dragging me by the hoof to a nearby booth.
My skin crawled as I felt her touch me. It goes to show how powerful a force love can be. Had I still been head over heels, I would have actually enjoyed the contact. Now?
I wanted a shower.
Now being touched by her felt disgusting.
I hid all of it.
I couldn’t let her know that the Love Boat had officially sank and that I was quietly planning her demise.
So instead, I let her drag me and sit me down at one of the corner booths. “Were the cops with her?”
The question was abrupt.
And I didn’t know how to answer. I knew lying was out of the question. She obviously knew something if she knew Twilight was going around with the police on her tail.
“Yes,” I said.
“What was she doing?”
“She was looking through old newspaper articles for disappearances.”
Pinkamena swore at this and started to look nervous, her hair slowly deflating and he coat visibly darkening.
“Fuck… Twilight’s not stupid. She’ll see a pattern,” she said. “Our pattern.”
I grimaced at that.
“Well, how many exactly have you… had fun with?” I asked. “And who?”
Pinkamena waved a hoof. She had told me some stories in the past, but she was always vague about who. She was more about the process.
A red flag, in hindsight.
“No one important or going anywhere.”
Temper, Daymos. Temper.
“If Twatlight’s on the case, then she’s going to figure something out,” Pinkamena said. “She’s going to see a pattern. Then she’ll do some stupid math shit or crazy magic and know the truth.”
Pinkamena chewed on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. If it was bothering her this much, she must have been on to something.
I thought Twilight and I had cleared the air about Scootaloo after she confronted me at Peppy’s but the mare was smart. She didn’t get to be Celestia’s chosen for being forgetful or naive.
“All we have to do is just lie low for the time being,” I said firmly. “Don’t draw any attention. They’re looking for Teller and Melliot but have no idea. Give it a few weeks and we’ll be fine.”
Pinkamena nodded along. “Yeah. Yeah.”
With a heavy sigh, she got to her hooves. “I got to take care of a few things and we should probably have a talk,” she said. “Come by my place tonight, around midnight. I’ll have something for you.”
This unsettled me. Ever since I realized just what Pinkamena was, I couldn’t let it go.
“What? What surprise?”
She simply smiled and tussled my hair like some sort of rambunctious child. “That’d ruin the surprise.”
Her sing-song voice did nothing to calm my nerves but I didn’t press the issue. It was a balancing act now and if I was too forceful or too aggressive, she’d know something was up. So instead, I kept playing the lovestruck accomplice.
“Alright,” I said, plastering a warm smile over my face. “See you tonight.”
She turned towards the counter, heading back to work — only to stop and give me an over-the-shoulder wink as I started to leave.
The thought of being with her for another week, let alone another month sickened me. She was a predator — a wolf in pony’s clothes preying on the innocent.
And because of her, I killed an innocent.
I wouldn’t let Pinkamena turn me into her.
I refuse.
A glance at the Ponyville Clocktower told me I still had another 13 hours before the meeting. Enough time to get something a bit more solid in my stomach and to take a nap.
I was a predator, too.
And I’d need all the energy I could get if I were going to stay one step ahead and be the alpha predator.
* * *
Scootaloo was a child, but reaching that point in her life where she was getting more mature and wanting more independence. As such, she said she was going to spend time with her friends at Apple Bloom’s and work on their homework assignments.
I told her to be safe and to get me if she needed anything.
She gave me another hug and she was off.
As soon as I collapsed into the couch, I started nodding off.
Food didn’t seem that important when you’re running on fumes. So I let sleep take me and, for a brief time, find a bit of peace and quiet.
* * *
I was over Melliot’s body. I strangled him as hard as I could, his neck creaking under my hooves as he fought back.
No matter how much I squeezed, he cried out again and again and again and again.
“Please.”
“Please.”
“Please.”
“Please.”
He was begging. He was pleading. He was crying.
I was crying too.
Because I could feel eyes on me. Eyes watching me, judging me, and moving in.
Closer.
Closer.
Clo-
* * *
I awoke with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. In my panic, I flailed to get to my hooves and get away from something but instead ended up falling off the couch.
As I laid on the hardwood floor, groaning in pain, and thinking it couldn’t get any worse…
“You okay?” She asked.
I nodded and started toward the kitchen.
“Just a bad dream,” I said sourly. “Had trouble sleeping last night and thought I’d have a nap.”
I gritted my teeth and poured myself a cold cup of coffee. I wasn’t exactly rested, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep again.
I could still remember the eyes.
“Oh, alright. We doing leftovers again for dinner?”
Part of me wished my life was mundane. I wish I just had a “bad dream” and woke with a start and was going to spend the rest of the night talking to Scootaloo over reheated eggplant.
But that’s not me.
“Yeah, there’s some eggplant in the fridge, I’ll heat some up,” I said.
I needed something to eat.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Dinner was a quiet affair. I wasn’t really in the mood to talk and Scootaloo picked up on that.
She asked me if anything was wrong.
Perceptive little filly.
I lied, of course. I told her nothing was wrong. That I wasn’t currently in a state of panic and plotting the death of the most popular pony in Ponyville.
But a part of me — a small part of me — wanted too much to tell her everything. To tell her what I was and what I’d done.
I think at the end of the day, I’d rather have Scootaloo hate and fear me than to watch me go away in hoofcuffs.
I kept trying to see how this could end any other way.
I was so confident earlier in the day. It seemed so simple. To just wait for the perfect time to strike and then kill Pinkamena. And by extension, Pinkie Pie.
But I had grown close to her and it’d be so easy to connect the dots after a thorough investigation by even the most simple of detectives.
I made my way through the streets of Ponyville, the clocktower off in the distance close to midnight. I had some ideas to further myself from Pinkamena but it would require some delicate maneuvering and expert manipulation.
Getting to the cellar of Sugarcube Corner, I knocked as I did before and waited. It took a moment, but the door opened and I was met with Pinkamena’s manic grin.
“Come on, come on! I got everything ready?”
I raised a single eyebrow and followed her down. “What do you mean ‘everything’?”
I wish I had the Whisper. It had been dead silent since I had killed Melliot. Not even a little chastising or bragging. Not even a single “I told you so”.
It was just…
Gone.
“I got everything ready. We solve all our problems in one fell swoop and go on to live happily ever after!”
We reached the bottom of the stairs.
And there she was, hanging on chains from the ceiling.
Twilight Sparkle.
The manacles dug into her hooves and neck. She was in the middle of thrashing about when it finally registered who I was looking at.
The gag in her mouth stopped her from saying anything, but the look on her eyes told me everything she needed to know. She looked right at me and didn’t break eye contact as Pinkamena started talking.
“It wasn’t hard to convince her to come over for a sleepover,” Pinkamena giggled. “I just put on Pinkie and talked about how I’d been so scared lately and that a sleepover wouldn’t just be fun, but safe too!”
Pinkamena cackled and led me over to a table full of knives, saws, and bags.
“We’ve only got one shot at this, but it’s the perfect timing,” she said. “Golden Harvest’s grandmother finally kicked the bucket and she’s being buried tomorrow. I remember how you said burying a body in the graveyard would be the perfect cover and there’s a grave just waiting to be used!”
I had felt so numb on the way here, but as Pinkamena talked I felt something.
“We just have to dig a few extra feet, dump her body in, put the dirt over it, and presto!”
A fire started burning in me. I started grinding my teeth as she talked, each syllable pushing me further and further.
“No one will ever suspect a thing. Sure, the Princess will throw a big stink and start looking for her but who will think to look in a grave? They’ll all be looking in the Everfree Forest or Whitetail Woods.”
I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and my body start to shake with rage.
“We play our cards right and everypony will forget about that dumb cop. They’ll keep looking for Twilight, holding out hope she’s alive as long as they don’t have a body. Give it a few years and she’ll slip into memory.”
Pinkamena lead me over to where Twilight was hanging and smiled that manic grin as Twilight looked between the two of us in growing horror.
“And it’ll be easy,” Pinkamena said. “I mean, come on. With the two of us, this will be a piece of ca-”
I didn’t let her get any further. I couldn’t take it anymore. Having Pinkamena hang off of me as she contemplated Twilight’s murder in front of me made me sick to my core. I couldn’t take it anymore.
With one mighty shove, I sent Pinkamena sprawling.
“What the fuck are-”
I didn’t let her get another word out. With a mighty swing, I clocked her square in the mouth. I didn’t knock any teeth, but I split her lip in the process.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” she cried.
“I’m the motherfucker?!?” I cried back. “You’re the fucking psychopath who’s trying to make me kill an innocent pony! AGAIN!”
Pinkamena sprung to her hooves and took a low stance, getting ready to pounce. I grabbed a nearby knife and got ready.
“Oh come on, you’re really trying to pussy out? I thought you better, Daymos,” She said, spitting blood. “She already knows everything. Just like the cop. No point in chickening out now.”
We circled each other like wild animals, one waiting for the other to pounce. I could see Twilight’s face now and again as we circled and it didn’t make things any better.
The jig was up. I wasn't Dayglow Mornings anymore to her.
“So what, you’re going to let her go? After everything you’ve done?” She punctuated the sentence by spitting blood on the floor. “After everything we’ve done? I thought you were better than this. Coward.”
I didn’t say a word. I wasn’t going to let her get into my head. I didn’t care if Twilight knew everything at this point. My life was over. And I was going to take Pinkamena down with me if I had to.
She continued.
“And what, do you think you’re some fucking hero? Killing pedos like Teller?” Pinkamena laughed. “You’re a bad pony, just like me Daymos. Stop pretending.”
“Shut up,” I growled.
Pinkamena gave a fake pout. “Awww, is Daymos mad? Well sorry, the truth hurts. You’re a bad pony who thinks killing bad ponies makes you a good pony. Sorry to tell you this, but no matter how you cut it, you’re a monster. Just like me.”
My anger was bubbling, but I kept trying to focus.
“If you want, I can dig up Melliot and we can ask him if you’re a monster or not.”
That did it.
I couldn’t contain it anymore and took a swing at her. There wasn’t any screaming or telegraphing, just one kick slice that sent Pinkamena hopping back.
It was only as I looked at her smile did I realize how open I was.
She jumped forward and buried two hooves in my face, sending me sprawling a good few meters across the floor.
But I knew what she was going to do next. She was going to pounce on me.
And Pinkamena didn’t know all my secrets.
That griffon culinary school was taught by a former carnival performer. And as a joke, he taught us how to throw knives near the end of the semester for extra credit.
And I was so happy he did.
I let the knife loose, sending it flying at her. And I have to admit — it was so rewarding to see that smile drop into a look of surprise and regret.
The knife buried itself into her shoulder and I ducked out of the way as she hit the ground, cursing up a storm as she did.
I tried to get to my hooves, but Pinkamena was faster. But instead of going after me, she galloped up the stairs and into the streets.
By the time I reached the cellar door, she was gone into the night.
I was bruised. I was battered.
But most of all, I was beaten.
I hurt Pinkamena, but she was still out there. And she’d be back. I was a loose end.
And I still had another problem.
Making my way back down the stairs, I prepared to make the worst decision of my life.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked Twilight in the eye. She was in a complete panic and had been crying. I briefly wondered just why she hadn’t used her magic when I realized she couldn’t.
Pinkamena had gone all out. An inhibitor ring sparked as Twilight futilely tried to cast something, anything.
Taking a deep breath, I began to speak.
“Twilight.”
She flinched and moved back as I took a step forward.
“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?” I looked around and found what I supposed was the key to Twilight’s restraints.
“I’m going to let you out,” I said calmly and slowly. “Just please. Listen to me. Let me explain. Okay?”
I felt like I was talking to a wild predator. Twilight didn’t know it, but I was more scared of her than she was of me. And I couldn’t just leave her here.
I said that a few more times as I undid the manacle around one of her hooves and her throat.
“Just let me explain.”
I reached out and took the inhibitor ring off her horn and moved to the last manacle.
“Just let-”
My throat closed up as I looked to Twilight and realized my folly. The fear in her eyes was gone and instead bore into me with a righteous fury.
I had only seconds to watch as Twilight’s horn charge a beam of magic that slammed into me with the force of a freight train. I was dimly aware I hit the opposite wall as I slowly slid down, my whole world growing dark.
As I started to slip into unconsciousness, I watched Twilight free herself and moved towards me.
Before I fell into darkness, I heard what I was waiting for.
I told you so.