Diary entry 545
So, I came up with a plan that will hopefully get Octavia back on her hooves again. She’s in a bad place right now, and though I’ve been putting my heart and soul into keeping her happy, it’s a downhill battle. One of these days I’m afraid she’s just going to lose it, snap, end herself... I do not want that to happen.
I made the plan yesterday after a particular event. I’d come down in the late evening to get a drink of water; it was two or three, if I remember correctly. I found the basement light on and-finding that to be a bit strange-went to investigate it. Poking my head through the door leading down the stairs, I saw Octavia sitting at my old electric piano, a drink beside her, and a pile of tear-stained tissues nearby. Celestia, my heart shattered! For a moment or two I debated going down and confronting her, but in the end, however, I decided I’d best leave her be.
This morning, I woke up with an idea hanging on the tip of my tongue; why not make music with her again? Our styles were very different, but I’ve always wondered how we’d sound together; a once-upon-a-time DJ and a once-upon-a-time cellist. HA! I think now would be a good time to experiment; I mean, what’s the worst thing that could come out of it? In the least, I’ll be providing a good distraction for a while; a single day of delight would do wonders for such a grief wracked mare.
Diary Entry 558
After talking with Orrick a few days ago, and then going out to the second-hoof shop down on Mane, I got Octy a new cello! It’s not near as expensive as her last one, but it will hopefully do the trick.
All that’s left is for me to give it to her, and yet, in all my excitement, I can’t help but feel nervous. What if she doesn’t like it? What if seeing a cello again just makes things worse? It’s almost been four days; I need to do something soon.
Maybe I should give it to her right now; put my pen down and just trot downstairs with the cello behind my back with a smile on my face… no, no, no, that’s far too cliché, and it probably won’t work. To succeed, I should sit down and talk with her, get a better understanding towards if she’d except my gift with happiness, or disdain, and then act accordingly. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
Diary Entry 559
I did it! By Celestia, she was so ecstatic, that I can’t help but feel a buzz in my hooves as I write this. Following me giving it to her, she got right down to tuning the thing, tears in her eyes and shaking in excitement. And here I thought it would be the wrong choice! Oh, I’m so happy for her.
As I write, I can hear her practicing in the basement; her playing brings back so many memories. It kind of hurts, I’ve tried so hard to forget that past, yet every once in awhile it slips back up on me. For once though, the memories are bearable. I recall those quiet nights when Octy and I were alone together. Sometimes we'd play chess, sometimes I’d listen to her on the cello, sometimes we'd just gossip; Celestia, how time takes things away! Least I forgot, however, how time brings things to you as well though; my beautiful hippogriffs, my mate, Octy.
But enough of these reveries, I need to move on. I must admit, Ren is a spitting image of me (give or take the hippogriff part), a spitting image of how I was growing up. She has a lust for performance and loves attention. Sure, she has some lower parts-times when her friends or her parents need to be there to help her through something-but it’s nothing to be concerned about. Rorrick, on the other hoof, is just getting worse, and I fear for him. In grade five now, and he’s the ostracized, awkward one that plays in the corner and doesn’t have any friends. Correction, he has a single friend, but they don’t really see each other much.
I don’t know what’s going to happen with him, but I predict ill tidings in the future.
Diary Entry 570
Octavia and I performed together for the first time; the whole family watched. We’ve been working on a song, one that combines our two styles effectively; one that Octavia had mainly written, considering I always sucked at the mechanics behind music. I must admit, it was fun as hay, and we didn’t sound half so bad! I only messed up a key twice, and Octavia, being Octavia, had a flawless performance. After we had finished, we were met with a standing ovation, the crowd went wild, and Rorrick jumped on my back and hugged me deeply. Laughing like crazy, the rest of them joined in, and I soon found myself being crushed; not like I minded. It’s rather mind-blowing that I’ve acquired such a strange set of loved ones. An earth pony, a griffon, and two Hippogriffs! What a wonderfully dysfunctional family we are!
Diary Entry 578
I’m fed up. Sick. Disgusted. Today, Rorrick came home with a black eye. He’d been jumped by some bullies and beaten on till he confessed he was a freak of nature. This has gone too far, and I’m off to talk to his teachers when I finish venting here. Why in the name of Luna do ponies have to be so cruel!? What drives them? I only wish the Mane Six were here to teach this wretched town some morals. Everyday I’m bombarded with stories of gangs, and drug trafficking, and raping’s, and foal-napping’s… I’m sick of it all and yet, I can’t escape it. Our lives are here, everything we worked for, even my own history is on the streets of this town. I can’t leave, so all I can do is push on, try to find solace, count my blessings.
I’m talking to his teachers. Rorrick will not suffer as I had when I was his age.
Diary Entry 579
Rorrick came home today with a smile on his face. Apparently, my talk with the teachers had paid off. We engaged in idle chit-chat while I prepared him an afterschool sandwich; lettuce, tomatoes, cheese. Ham.
I’m used to handling meat now, considering I’ve been around Orrick for a while, and then the kids as well, who, simply following there more carnivorous nature, love it. I’ve tried to eat meat in the past, and though it tasted ok going down, it didn’t settle very well in my stomach. I usually make an alternate meal for me and Octy when the kids have a craving.
But by Celestia! Going to the Griffon Market to fetch the stuff is extremely intimidating. I feel so estranged there, cantering around, the clippity clopping drawing more attention then I want. I’ve been sending Orrick recently, who has no problems fitting in.
But back to the matter present, I’m concerned about how long teacher authority will keep Rorrick safe. As the foals grow into fillies and colts, things only get worse, and authority becomes less omnipresent.
Diary Entry 646
Grade seven, Luna damned grade seven. That influence broke today. I’ve got names as well. When I went to the school’s office to pick up Rorrick; he had riddled them off to me between squawks and tears. Just the thought of what those stupid ponies did to him makes me sick. Taking some super glue they found in the workshop of one of the classes, they glued a message onto his back. It read, written by three different ponies: ‘Freak/Griffer/Chicken’. Apparently while this was going on, the teacher had left down to the office to get something, only to return again to find Rorrick on the ground, pinned by his wings and freshly pasted with glue. Sure, the bullies got detention, but that’s not going to stop them; hate is an unquellable emotion; the matter is simple… Rorrick is different.
I should have seen this coming.
Diary Entry 654
Why isn’t Ren doing anything? She is in the same class as him, same species as well. She’s become rather passive, keeping to her friends and trying her best to forget about her brother. I know she’s guilty though, I can see it in her eyes when she comes home, in her attitude; like a dog against a wall. I wish I could feel as bad for her as I do for Rorrick, but I can’t. She has it good, doesn’t get bullied, and has nice friends… I only wish Rorrick can start following in her wake.
Orrick gave Rorrick a good talk down today, I don’t know what he told him, but I wasn’t allowed to interfere. What I do know, however, is that whatever Orrick said, Rorrick took to heart. I’ll take the backseat on this one; see what comes out of it.
Diary Entry 666
So that’s what Rorrick was told. Nightmare Night’s Dark Messages. Today, he came home with… blood on his feathers. It wasn’t his though. I, I can’t go on in this entry, I need to calm down.
Diary Entry 667
Fought them, that’s what he did. I bet they didn’t see that coming. No, they definitely did not. I recall now that Rorrick’s body is meant to kill and sever; those claws, that beak… the very blood that surges through his body. They stood no match, and he got them all really, really bloodied. My phone has been ringing off the hook with the parents of the ‘victim’s’ calling the house to spit insults. I can’t answer to those, so I’ve been giving them off to Orrick, who can actually fight back. These griffons, I tell you.
Diary Entry 670
Jail? Now that would be something. Thank Celestia Octavia, Orrick, and I prevented that. The parents, having gotten nowhere with their hateful calls, wanted to summon court and send Rorrick off to some prison. We fought for him there, and won… Octavia and Orrick were lavish speakers and I was just scenery. How embarrassing is that? I can’t even defend the very life of my own child.
I think it’s because I’m scared. Griffons, or in this case hippogriffs with high amounts of griffon blood, are dangerous. All I’m here to do is reassure-the fluffy stuff- while Orrick and Octavia fight hoof and claw with the opposition.
I’m an embarrassment.
Diary Entry 671
Finally, I feel as though I’m back in the picture. Rorrick came into my room tonight-Orrick was gone, so I had the whole bed to myself-and snuggled up to me. He was shivering bitterly, no doubt reminiscing over his recent actions. I brought a hoof to his back and just rubbed; he spilled his guts.
He explained to me that he’d accepted himself as the monster he was. I responded suit with the reassurance he wasn’t. It took me a bit, but I think I drove the point home. He just needed to learn how to fit in. I then gave an example of his sister, and he sort of hissed at that, explaining that his sister didn’t care for him. I didn’t know how to respond, so I changed the topic: Schoolwork, sports, and promises that things will get better.
Diary entry 673
Apparently, I was wrong. Today; Rorrick explained through angry tears that he had been attacked by more insults than ever before. He threated that he’d kill them if they kept this up. My heart had dropped when I heard this; it terrified me to no end. Writing about it now is making me shiver. He had stood like Celestia defiantly atop the stairs, and promised us violence if things kept going the way they were. Orrick tried to step in, but was shut down; I tried, but was responded to in the same fashion. There was no changing his mind. I’m thinking I should keep him home from school tomorrow, let him calm down a bit and think over his actions.
Again, I’m dealing with griffon blood here, and when griffons get mad…
Diary Entry 675
Today, I can’t. It was, no.
Diary Entry 675
I need to write, the events are weighing heavily on me and I need to get them off; least I am crushed under guilt and concern. I’ll start in the morning.
I decided that I’d keep Rorrick home yesterday morning. I was going to take him and Octavia to Fourhoof to see the buskers; it would have been a good change in mood. When I had trotted downstairs, I took note that his stuff was gone; that he had left for school early. Sighing in defeat, I tried to calm myself down with a cup of tea. Octavia joined me after a bit, and we just talked. It was so nice. Things turned upside down though soon. Octavia had mentioned she’d been trying to find the hacksaw; she needed to shorten something or another. This confused me because I usually kept it out in the open, hanging on the tool shelf. Wondering if Orrick had used it, I went up to our room and rummaged around; my searching came up empty. Next I went downstairs, Octavia close in tow, to search there. Sometimes, the tools fall off the wall and settle behind the work table. Using a combination of magic and earth-pony hoof strength, we moved the table so that we could peek behind. I didn’t see a hacksaw there. I saw a feather. Rorrick’s feather.
By Celestia, when I saw the plumage I almost fainted; thankfully, Octy had been there to catch me as I swooned. The reality of what I’d allowed to happen hit me so hard that my body went numb. I recalled Rorrick’s threat, the one where he said he’d kill them if they continued. I recalled the day before, how stoic Rorrick had been coming home; he had turned down the sandwich and went straight for his room. The pieces of the puzzle fell together to create a gruesome scene: Rorrick, in his classroom, with a hacksaw.
Galloping faster than I’d ever galloped; I got to the kitchen and dialed the school. When the receptionist picked up, I told her to search the school for Rorrick; I told her he was a threat that needed to be found before he did something he’d regret. There was a moment of silence then. Soon, the phone was picked up again and I was told he wasn’t at school; he hadn’t even been marked on the morning attendance. Fearing the situation all the more, I requested that they checked if Alkaline (the head bully) was in school, and she told me he was. I think it was about then that I heard the muffled cry coming from upstairs. Octavia was right beside me, so it hadn’t come from her.
Bolting up the stairs two at a time, I went to Rorrick’s room and knocked; no response from inside. When I tried the door though, it was locked. Panicking, I shouted into the room; I knew he was in there. When I had still gotten no response, I asked Octavia to blow the thing off its hinges (for I was in no mental state to conjure magic). She complied, and in no time, the door had cracked and swung open. The scene that met me inside will haunt me till the day I die.
Rorrick was there. He had the hacksaw, but it wasn’t being used on somepony else. It was being used on himself. It was at one of his wings and had already done some damage. Blood flowed from the wound, and even as I stared, the saw was drawn across the joint again, cutting deeper. To his left, an open first aid kit filled with gauze was splattered with blood.
Firmly placed over his beak, and only just hiding the gag underneath, a cup, colored the same as his plumage, was strapped on. It didn't take an intellect to figure out exactly what he was doing. He was mutilating himself to become… an earth pony. Somehow-I forget the details-I deterred him and he was sent off to the hospital for inspection. In a trance –like state, I cleaned up the carpet and the saw, and put everything back where it was supposed to be. I remember coming to a resolution then. We'd be moving to Ponyville ASAP. This could not go on.