And now, a separate story.
Twilight had been wandering aimlessly across town for a few hours, and had not encountered a single soul in her path thus far. She seemed to be completely alone in this town... the world, even... but this wasn't surprising considering the hour of the night she had chosen for this most peculiar sortie. Being alone like this was a feeling she hadn't experienced ever since leaving Canterlot, and had always considered those isolated days over.
...but not that her solitary state mattered to her, anyways.
Actually, it did matter. In fact, it mattered a lot!
But then again, it didn't, really.
At least, that's how it all felt to her since she still hadn't gotten over the incident... The image remained fresh in her mind: torturing her, making her remember the overwhelming barrage of emotions that overcame her that very instant... That moment when she decided to open that door, oblivious of what laid behind it.
It was all just too much, she no longer had control of her body. She ran away as fast as she could from the scene, heart-broken and in tears, wishing for it to all go away and disappear, much like after waking up from a bad dream. She covered her overflowing eyes, praying that she could un-see what hath been seen...! Twilight couldn't, however, and no matter where she tried to hide, the thought found her... It stalked her, it hunted her: lurking in the corners and in the deepest recesses of her mind.
It enjoyed making her suffer.
Hours had already passed though, and now Twilight saw herself losing the will to live...
Or rather, the will to care: she was filled with apathy.
And so, the only solace she could take comfort in was in walking. It used to clear her mind, but now it only served to keep her attached to this world: Twilight felt that if she didn't walk, her spirit would just... slowly drift away and never return. A painkiller of sorts, or her lifeline.
Her lonesome soul calmly drifted over the wet pavement. Fittingly, it had been raining in torrents for days, and this night was no particular exception. Every single one of her steps whispered the eternal laments and remorse of past deeds as they met the unforgiving puddles of countless tears. Every individual second seemed to linger onto eternity: never giving way for the next. Each one took its own bittersweet time... But like any mortal joy, it ended, withering and dying.
The dilapidated surroundings only seemed to accentuate the misery she found herself in, yet she just could not care less.
She could not care less of anything, not anymore...
Not now that there was no more ketchup in the fridge.