“It was the humming, Dr. Gait. I know it sounds silly but it really was that. I just...she knew it irritated me. I don’t know why humming bothers me so much. But, she knew better. I told her. I warned her. But day after day she would do it again and again. I got tired of asking for her to stop or at least wait until I was not in the room anymore. Without fail she would always forget.
‘I’m not sure why it bugs me, the humming. Ponies I have asked find it pleasant, but how can they? It’s like a bee inside of my ear that just buzzes and buzzes. I want to smash it with my hooves just to stop the noise but it keeps on going. I try to make noise other ways, flipping pages, moving stuff, cracking the bones in my neck, tapping, changing my position at the desk...I try to do something but that stupid humming keeps buzzing next to my brain. With her, usually when I began hitting my ears she’d notice and stop. I ended up developing tinnitus from striking my ears so much.
‘Honestly, I don’t really know where to start.”
“Maybe something from your past triggered your condition. Did you ever own a dog?”
“No, I didn’t have a dog, I was allergic.”
“I see. Maybe if you started with the events that led up to the incident where your mental state was altered?”
‘But where to start with that?’ I think.
“Alright. Scratch that. Tell me about your college roommate. Azalea was it?”
“Yes. I...I first met Azalea the day I moved into the dormitory at school. She was nice but I didn’t get the impression she had much personality when I first met her, if that makes sense. It was two of us and another pony. The first week of classes flushed her out though. They make that first few weeks hard just for that reason: they want to get rid of ponies who are not serious about getting involved in the medical profession. After...the other pony left, it was just me and Azalea.”
“And how did you two get along?”
“We got along well, at first. She kept to herself and her friends, kept her stuff clean and left my stuff alone. You know, a good roommate. The first two times she hummed I didn’t say anything. Then I realized it was a habit of hers. I asked her politely throughout the semester and she was apologetic at first, stopping for up to weeks. Then, it became a daily thing. I know that perhaps I was a bit of a nag about it. It’s just...she kept doing it. I kept telling her and she kept doing it even though she knew I found it irritating. I kept telling her and I think she started doing it on purpose just to irritate me. I mean, she knew I would say something or start hitting my head again.
‘I also noticed things were going missing. My hair mousse would turn up empty in half the times it would normally take. I confronted her and she admitted she was using it without asking. She still kept using it even after I told her to stop. Then, her friends would ask me why I was wearing her clothes when I was wearing my clothes. I skipped class one time and she walked in wearing my dress that I had spent all morning looking for. I had even asked her if she knew where it was and she had denied. She lied right to my face.
‘She started going through my other stuff without asking me whenever I was in class. I told the dorm sup but all Azalea got was a figurative slap on the fetlocks and a warning that she would be in trouble if she was ever caught again. She finally left my stuff alone. Her friends still bothered me about wearing “her” clothes, though.
‘Basically, things just went downhill from there. We stopped talking outside of fighting or snapping at each other. I would clean my side of the room and she’d “accidentally” spill her coffee or tea over there, especially if I had a piece of clothing out. I would have gone to the dorm sup again, and I probably should have, but her and her friends insisted I was harassing her and trying to get her kicked out. They knew that she was guilty and I had plenty of proof. I really should have talked to the dorm sup. I tried talking to Azalea myself but of course she never listened. I just kept getting worse.
‘Yes, I regret what I did. I remember it all too clearly up until my mind just stopped. I remember what happened because it happened so slowly, like I was watching somepony else. It wasn’t until I saw my hooves that I realized...
‘What provoked it? Well, I think if it had started any other night before my most difficult final then perhaps things might have been very different. I sat at my desk that night and reviewed mental disorders, trying not to diagnose myself with every single one in the book.
‘Then that humming started. It was the Heart Carol. The holidays were coming but neither of us had time to get into the holiday spirit. I...I was rude and I snapped at her to shut up. She hummed louder. I yelled at her to stop it and she hummed louder. I shoved my hooves into my ears but I still felt the buzzing of her vocal chords. I began to hum myself but she began singing. The only thing that bothered me more than her humming were her tone deaf performances. Every time I bought earplugs they disappeared, but I could never prove that she was the one who took them. For five minutes I tried to read the page detailing Schizophrenic Paranoia and block out her assaults on my ears.
‘Finally, I broke. “Will you shut up?” I screamed at her. She had the nerve to laugh at me. She was stupid enough to laugh at me. I flew at her, feeling my hoof hit the bones of her muzzle. She started bleeding instantly and screamed at me, calling me every insult I had heard already. I rose up on my back hooves and bucked her in the chest. Her head hit the wall and she started coughing. I think that was when she got scared. She screamed for help. I dove at her, grabbed her head between my hooves and slammed her skull into the countertop of the sink in our room so she’s shut up. I was scared. She screamed at me to stop. I slammed her head into the counter again because I was angry. She begged me to stop. I didn’t. I didn’t because...because now a part of me enjoyed it. She went quiet. That’s the moment I felt scared. I ran to the dorm sup. All I could think of was “Fetch the dorm sup. Fetch the dorm sup. Azalea is in danger.” By the time I found her all I could do was make a series of indistinguishable sharp yips...like a dog. I guess I was in shock from what I had done. I thought I had killed her. I was certain I had killed her. I was shaking so much from the rush of adrenaline. I couldn’t speak properly.”
“Did you know she was able to recover?”
“She was? Did I damage her permanently?”
“She’s been deaf, ever since then, in that one ear. There was also a brain injury which forced her out of school...”
I groan with regret and put my face into my hooves.
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s making it, though. She regretted what she did to you. What more do you remember?”
“The last thing I remember is grabbing the dorm sup’s belt in my mouth from her bathrobe and pulling her towards my room, whimpering. I was terrified. I don’t remember much else.”
“Well, I guess that concludes this interview. I’ll see you in court in a couple of days. “
“Thank you, Dr. Gait. How is my family?”
“Well, they’re stressed out about the trial but your parents are hopeful about all this. They wanted me to tell you that they love you.”
“Did they ever...see me when I was...you know?”
“According to the reports I received from Dr. Cough, they did. At that point you hadn’t quite been trained as a guard dog yet. Your parents were understandably upset. He assured them you were happy though.”
“Alright. Thank you.” I say. Dr. Gait stands up and gathers his papers with magic. He then proceeds to the metal door and gives it a ringing knock. The guards open it to let him out and let my escort in. I’m led back to the jail cell where I would be held until my trial. Azalea’s family hadn’t forgotten what happened five years ago. They want retribution for what I had done.
They deserve every bit of it, in my opinion. Azalea had asked me to stop between each blow and I didn’t want to listen. This trial can go either way: either my family and I would have to pay with bits and jail time or her family would have to pay with possibly more lost time.
I reach into my orange coveralls and pull out a small journal. I’m still waiting to start entries but I already know the first one I’m going to write in it. I should wait until the trial is over, just for protection. I want to get out. More than anything I want to get out. I’ve been planning it all ever since I can remember. I’ll stay home for a little while, get a job to earn enough money to live with, and then move on from there. Once ponies have forgotten me I can begin looking. I know I have a daughter, and I’m going to find her before she can grow up without me.