I think I had a crick in my neck. It certainly felt as if something had jabbed it rather hard and then covered it with a constant pressure. I was laying in bed, the warm covers drawn over me. The feel of the soft fabric on my fur was a welcome sensation, the smell of flowers and clean cloth also welcomed. I tried to crack my eyes open, but they weren't having it. I whinnied in protest. They were my eyes and they were going to listen. Ever so slowly, I opened them one at a time. My room was the same as always. Cello on its' stand, begging me to come and make a masterpiece. Gentle rays of light fell upon my light blue walls, giving the room a warm and cozy feel that I wouldn't trade for the world right now. I let a huge yawn pass my lips, my forelegs stretching and making themselves ready for the day ahead. I tried to work out the crick but to no avail. I'll deal with it later. With another quicker, smaller yawn, I rolled out of bed. I strolled out onto the balcony, taking in the always breathtaking view, and letting the warm rays of light fall upon my face. What a beautiful morning. I could see couples with their foals playing in the park, the gentle bustle of an early morning market, and early-birds walking to their work places.
I turned back to my cozy room, shutting the balcony doors behind me. I acquired a towel and exited my room, headed for the shower. I hung my towel upon it's rack and spun the knobs as best as I could. Steam filled the small bathroom quickly; what an invigorating feeling. I let the feeling marinate for a few minutes before I stepped under the water. The hot water rolling down my fur was a needed ambrosia, sending sleep away in the most pleasant fashion. Bathing had always been an enjoyable experience for me. I lay down upon the floor (I kept it meticulously clean, I just loved lying under the water and a dirty floor would ruin the feeling) as the water cascaded down in a gentle water fall. It enveloped me in a warm, encompassing glow like a certain mare I knew. For some reason, my memory seemed a little muddled, but I ignored it, blaming it on the sound and restful sleep I had. Enough soaking, I thought. Time to wash up, I have a life to live, although I wouldn't mind it if this feeling stayed with me. Some earth ponies found washing themselves to be rather hard. We weren't really built to stretch around and wash our back and flanks. Luckily enough, my friend had rigged up a little wash cloth with a handle that I could use to get those hard to reach places. Sooner or later I would convince her to patent it and sell it to some big cleaning company. Back to the shower, I quickly soaped up and rinsed. My mane, however, was another ordeal entirely. Special mane soap, conditioner, drying and styling. A mare had to look her best though. I quickly started washing my mane, enjoying the feeling of hooves running through my mane, getting out all the tangles from a good night's sleep. Turning off the shower, I stepped out into the steamy room and stepped under the dryer. The dryer itself worked like an isolated fan room, blowing the water from my coat and tickling my fur.
Stepping outside of the dryer, I began to work on my mane. I usually kept it down, but on occasion I did it up in an aptly named pony-tail. Today was definitely a pony-tail day. Satisfied that my mane was reasonable presentable and dry, I stepped out into the cooler hallway. I gave a small shiver, the slight chill sliding down my back as I exited the warm atmosphere of the bathroom. I crossed the hall for a second time, re-entering my room and making my way to my nightstand. My bow-tie was waiting for me. It had taken quite a few years for me to perfect the art of putting on neck-ware without magic or those interestingly opposable wings. I really did have it down to a "T" as the saying went. I glanced in the mirror atop my dresser. The pony-tail and bow-tie went very well together. I nodded, pleased with my work. I was no Rarity, but I could hold my own in fashion. I quickly put my cello in its' case along with a few extra bows and some sheet music I had left near the well-cared-for instrument. Strapping the entire ensemble to my back, I turned for the door; thoughts of a wonderful practice with my partners filling my head.
I exited my room for the last time of the morning, ready to start off a fantastic day.
I strolled down the stairs, humming a tune that I had been working on for months. It's flowing melodies and calming adagios working together to make a wonderfully relaxing harmony. I went to the kitchen, looking for a light breakfast to carry with me on my way to practice. Hmm, the cabinets were empty, as was the fridge. Time for a trip to the grocery store. I let out a small sigh, I'll just have to grab something along the way. I made my way to the door, reached for the handle and turned before walking into the still closed door. Locked? Why was my front door locked? When had I even put a lock on it? Crime was an extremely rare occurrence in most towns in Equestria (Not counting Manehattan) and there had never been a need for one. Now, not only was there a lock on my front door, it was specially made with a double-sided key entry. What in the world? I set down my hefty burden lovingly and carefully. I'm sure the key was around here; there's no reason that I would be locked inside my own house.
I set off in search for the key.
After more than an hour of searching, I learned an interesting fact about my home. It contained a grand total of zero keys. I picked up my cello case, and plodded back up the stairs deep in thought. Locked in my own home? No key to be found? Was I under house arrest? Did I do something that I don't remember? Was it that night at the play? Had I been so disgraced that I was imprisoned in my own home? I snorted and mentally brushed aside the wave of "What if"s. I still had my instrument, I still had my sheets and notes, and I apparently had all the time in the world.
I went back to my room, the calm blue of the walls always a pleasing sight. I set up my items: a stand to hold my sheet music, a pencil to write in ideas and thoughts, extra bows if I got too caught up in the moment. I put string to sting and began to play. If pictures were worth a thousand words, then I was whispering untold millions of sweet nothing's to anyone within ear-shot of the balcony. I had thought about climbing down, but I wouldn't be able to bring my cello, nor would I be able to get back up. I played my heart out. My emotions: fear, doubt, confusion, all exited in a beautiful river of dancing eddies and exciting rapids. I played for hours and hours, exhausting myself and the room left over on my sheet music. It was definitely time for a break. I put the now frayed bow to the side and wiped down my cello, checking it over for damage like a loving mother doting upon her foal. Satisfied with its health, I put the cello in it's case and set the items in the corner. A drink would be nice. I walked to the door, pulling it open to reveal a set of eyes.
Puffy, pink, watery, exhausted, and longing eyes.
"I'm so sorry Octavia," the eyes said. I could only stare. The pain coming from them was heartbreaking. Gut-wrenching.
I had never seen Vinyl so distraught. She looked at me and the entire world wilted. Suddenly the music I had been playing wasn't so sweet. The air wasn't so fresh. Life wasn't so simple. I was still in shock. I was lying to myself. I had been attacked. Brutally murdered, yet here I am. I looked over myself with new eyes. The bandage on my neck, the sharp pain coming from underneath it. The large bruises covering most of my body and all of my back. My back left leg in a makeshift splint. It hit me like a flood.
The pain was unreal.
"Vinyl-" I blacked out.
A.N. - Sorry for cutting this one short, expect all other chapters to be over 4k at the least. I haven't been in the writing mood lately, sorry. I'll do my best to put out a chapter a week. Thanks for the likes and fav's and I hope you continue to enjoy my story.