//------------------------------// // please make it stop // Story: Gynophobia // by Discombobulated Soul //------------------------------// i don't want to be here. i don't want to be here. i don't want to be here. oh gosh. she's here. i need to run now stay back stay away stay there. please. don't move. don't... ...move. ... ... Okay. Okay, I'm... disoriented. I just woke up and, well... You know how I said I didn't have nightmares anymore? Yeah, uh... that changed. Real fast. Someone must've put me back in bed. The four-poster one in my room. It does feel pretty nice, despite the torn blankets and deformed pillows. Actually, those are probably from me thrashing around just now. Redheart's here. Gosh. I'm glad she isn't moving. She was looking at my drawing when I woke up. I think she was the one that brought me here. How long has she been...? How long have I been asleep? ... A few hours, huh? And she hasn't left my side. I... ... Heh. I guess this is it, then. No. NO! You'll have to try harder than-- --the-- ... The door is closed. This... I'm... Too tiny to reach the handle. Too helpless. A sitting duck. Redheart's coming. "Please, don't..." I'm so weak. ... She says 'it'll be okay'. What a joke. I can't even muster up a reply. What's the point? What's the point of anything? She's got me in a hold. So strong I'll never escape. Her arms around me, pulling constricting asphyxiating It'll happen soon. She'll get tired of all the foreplay. Please help. I'm scared. ... squeezing beating breathing ...gross. So yucky. I don't want it. You! You need to help me! I'm so, so scattered I need you to talk to me. I want--need--to hear your voice. Please, please, just one word. One little word and this will be so much easier. I know you've been silent throughout this whole thing, but please. I really need this. You can't just sit there looking at me. You can't. You're better than that. I know you are. I know because... ...please. please please... her scent invades my nostrils. It's harsh, cloying, repulsive. It's everywhere. And still the pulling, yanking, pounding... PLEASE! TALK TO ME! ... ... ... ... ... ...please ... .. . You used to talk to me. That's how I know. We had the grandest times together, you and me. We'd travel to the park together and play games there. You always loved 'tag', even though it was only the two of us. We ran races, too, and you always won those. I remember... your voice. Your laugh. Oh, how I loved your laugh. I'd tell the stupidest jokes and you just couldn't control yourself. You told the coolest stories, too. I recall being captivated while you spun a tale of one-eyed alien space pirates. You're so much more creative than me. Back then, you never let me forget it, either! I looked up to you, y'know. Such great times we had together. Don't you remember? ... Of course. How could you forget? But it changed when I... ... I... I screwed up. Really bad. I hurt you. Really bad. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. For everything I did. For the things I said. Listen, I'm just an average guy now, see? Nothing interesting whatsoever about me. It's pathetic, really. I'm determined to fix it. To make up for what I did. I'm trying so hard. And I'm still scared. I need you to speak. So please, in the name of all the years we spent together, forgive me. ... Please forgive me. ... Please forgive me. ... ... You don't need to forgive me ... You can be as angry as you want! At this point, I'll take anything. ... They don't have to be words. ... ... ... Yell at me. Do it. Express your hatred. ... ... ... WHY! WHY WON'T YOU DO ANYTHING?! ... . . . ............... please............................ ... Fine. After long enough, my screaming dies down and I feel a warm blanket settle over my body. It's nice. It's heavy, but just the right amount to feel snug without being oppressive. It's the kind of blanket that's fuzzy, so I rub my face into it, drying my tears. It's the kind of blanket that smells good, like freshly-picked strawberries. It's the kind of blanket that doesn't judge me for outbursts. The kind that's there to pick up my pieces. The kind that's been around me the whole time since I woke up here and still hasn't made any advances. ... It's the kind of blanket that deserves an apology. "I'm sorry, Redheart." ... Heh. She asked 'what for'. "For being so uncooperative. For being ungrateful for all you've done for me. For..." ... ... "...for thinking you wanted to use me. You're not that kind of pony. I'm sorry for thinking you were." ... I like Redheart. I Trust her. This feels... right. ... She forgave me. Told me to call her 'Reddie,' or 'Mom,' whichever felt better. I think I will. ... ... I think I'm going to stop bothering with you. Clearly, There's no repairing the damage. I don't know why I bothered trying. You probably listen solely because you have to, huh? Fine. I'll shut up. You won't even have to hear from me again. How does that sound? Goodbye. ...... ...... ..... ... ... .. . . .