Blood. I'm drowning in blood. The crimson ocean washes over me in a furious wave, my lungs burning as I sink deeper into the gore. I want to scream, to cry out, to damn the world for such a cruel end, yet it all falters as I see her. Just a glimpse, the last remnants of light before I'm forever swallowed by the crimson blackness.
"Diamond...Rose..."
My scream breaks the once silent night, my body drenched in sweat. Another nightmare. It never ends. "Just one night" I grouse to an empty room. "Could I have just one night!" Fists slam into pillows as I let out impotent rage, childish certainly, but it felt cathartic. As my heart began to slow, I started the arduous task of preparation, every limb aching as they moved from the messy bed to the bathroom. Why waste time trying to sleep after all ? It'll never happen now.
For fifteen years it had been the same, horrible doom, then a vision of her. In some ways, I was used to it. Caffeine supplements, tacky superfoods and copious amounts of water managed to keep me upright...mostly. Mentally though I wasn't great.
"Ironic" I mumble as the mirror stares back at me with one, Calmy Storms, Canterlot city's only Para-Psychotherapist at its centre. God I looked awful. I wasn't exactly well built for my height, but I'd lost some weight recently and that just made me look twenty percent worse. Add that to a face that looked like someone hit 'generic' on a build-a-character and you've got me. Five foot ten, skeletal exhausted. Oh and the scar. I can't forget that. Just another parting memento of hers, a five inch ragged mark on my left cheek.
A quick finger trace of the mangled flesh produces a wistful sigh. I cut off any more reminiscing though, it may be ridiculously early, but time halts for no man. Breakfast, suit, papers, office. 'Follow the order and you create order' as an old teacher of mine once said.
00000
Six AM and here I am, hurrying off the first bus of the day into the slumbering heart of Canterlot City. It came down to a choice many years ago; keep my car or my practice. It was no choice really. Stony Shore appreciated the company though, some pro-bono couples counselling kept him sweet as well, so he didn't mind waiting a few minutes when I was inevitably late. As the short walk to my home away from home began, I took in the sights. Some didn't like walking the city streets this time of day, but there was a kind of beauty to it. It was peaceful now. In two hours, the streets would be bustling and I'd hopefully have made a dent in the abominable paperwork currently squatting in my briefcase. Who'd have thought building codes were somehow more important than repairing shattered minds? Mayor Grogars snivelling witches certainly did. If that woman turned up one mo-
"Hi boss!"
"Sweet Sombras Spinal Cord!", I blurted out. My high school curse sounded all the more ridiculous so many years later. Ol' Principal Sombra had been a real stick in the mud with us kids, but I was starting to understand why when the cause of my burgeoning heart attack exited the alleyway with an awkward smile.
Her name was Sonata Dusk and, for some god-forsaken reason, I'd made her my secretary. Normally I'd avoid hiring sixteen-year olds for such an important job, but I was a sap for a sob story and the girl was disturbingly competent when she focused. Admittedly it was a rare event, but dammit she was trying to support two sisters and a heavily disabled mother! I'm not a heartless monster.
"Oops, my bad," she apologised, "I totally wasn't prowling the alleyways looking for food, boss." An awkward giggle followed by the usual 'Do-you-really-want-to-know-if-i'm-joking' look on her face made whatever frustration that was building within me disintegrate. She was an odd one, but in my experience those pushed to the edge had more...eccentric coping mechanisms.
"Lets just get going, OK?" was all I could mumble as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. A headache had already started to form. Or it could be caffeine withdrawal. Either way, I desperately needed the solace of my office.
Sonata's cheerful humming breached the morning silence in a not too unpleasant way as we walked the last two blocks. The girl had a good sense of musical rhythm. Terrible voice though. It was like cats fighting in a sack, if the cats had been gargling glass and smoking cigarettes. As we approached our base of operations, however, something on her suit jacket caught my eye.
"Is that a patch on your back, Sonata?" I asked, eyebrow raised in confusion as we reached the door. She knew how much of a stickler I was on the dress code. People had expectations of us after all. The girl had been lucky I'd not dismissed her interview when she turned up in that glitzy outfit of hers. I'm not one for the razzle dazzle as my peers often learnt.
"Yeah," she replied "Daggy's not great with an iron and kinda burnt a hole in it." She gestured to the patch with a proud look on her face "But I fixed it...too bad about her shirt though." Saying nothing but writing a mental note to shunt a few extra dollars her way with a 'buy a new jacket, not more tacos!' note attached, I unlocked the door. The familiar odour of 'Calm Minds, Para-Psychotherapist For Hire' leeched away all negativity in my system. There really was no place like home.
It had taken years to gather the funds for this simple three room building, but it was my pride and joy. Plush chairs, neutral wall tones, oil paintings of flowers. All the basics to create a calming atmosphere. The drip coffee maker was more of a personal choice, but it paled in comparison to the Iceking 3000. The monstrous fridge lorded over its corner of the room, holding a treasure trove of fruits, greens and a disturbingly large number of microwave tacos, ready for the monarchs radiation spewing crown. I admit it's not the most professional choice, but without it I suspect I'd collapse from exhaustion.
Feeling surprisingly chipper, I smiled at my secretary, "You ready?" She nodded enthusiastically, despite admitting two days prior she didn't quite *know* what a psychotherapist was, let alone a 'Para-Psychotherapist'. Still, she had a good heart and that's what counted in my eyes. Well, that and typing eight hundred words a minute.
With my secretary at her desk , a pot of coffee already brewing and a schedule that actually had more then one client, I decided to be reckless, daring, foolhardy even. “I've got a good feeling about today, let's make some lives better."