Bricks in the Wall

by _NAME_


Chapter Nineteen: Take Away My Soul

Chapter Nineteen

Take Away My Soul

I felt the carriage move underneath me, lumbering along the bustling roads. My face was pressed up against the window, having landed there when I was unceremoniously thrown in. I would’ve moved, but I couldn’t seem to find the muscles necessary to do so.

Bright, harsh lights and indistinct shapes moved past the glass, my eyes focusing on hazy objects only to have them whiz past and be lost forever. Streetlamps illuminated building corners and sidewalks. Ponies walked by each other, their shapes and colors and contours all blending together before I had a chance to differentiate them. The night sky seemed black and endless, with a few stars pulsating above the buildings.

The frigid air outside chilled the window, soothing my warm and flushed face. A thin line of saliva trailed out of my lolling mouth, and a violent dry heave racked my body, followed soon by a dribble of bile and unidentifiable chunks of food. The vomit splattered all over the window, sliding all the way down the door.

“Eeeggh shit, Pink. That’s disgustin’.” Hooves gripped me and moved me away from the window, propping me up proper against the seat back. Across from me sat the blurred figure of the tan pegasus, the owner of the hooves, who was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. For some reason, the name ‘Short’ wormed itself through my mind.

I tried to speak his name, but it died in my mouth, coming out instead as a guttural moan, my jaw hanging uselessly and my tongue too numb and heavy to form any speech. The pegasus, Shortchange, I remembered, bent forward. “How you feelin’, Pink? What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

I couldn’t find my voice.

Short watched me for several moments, eyes unblinking before settling back down into the seat. “Yeah…” he whispered, returning his gaze to the window, “I don’t think I even wanna know what you’re thinkin’… At least I don’t gotta wipe throw-up offa ya.”

There was silence.

Directly across from me, behind Short, out a small half-window, was the driver of the carriage, a dark brown stallion. My eyes stared at him for a few seconds, still going in and out of focus, before finally settling on the black hat that sat atop the stallion’s head.

I blinked, and clarity returned to my vision, snapping back without any warning. I blinked a second time, surprised by the sudden change. Shifting my eyes over to Short, I saw him for what felt like the first time.

I wasn’t sure why.

I moved my hooves, placing them in my lap, but then changed my mind and put them back at my sides. Then, I raised one and scratched the top of my head, feeling the rough, short stubble that was all that remained of my mane.

My head turned to look out the window once again, only this time I could actually see the shapes and colors and ponies that existed outside the small, cramped, enclosed carriage I was in.

A mare and stallion walked side-by-side, passing by a group of rambunctious foals galloping in the opposite direction. The foals ran into a well-dressed stallion, nearly toppling him over. After a small stumble, the stallion righted himself and futilely yelled after the foals, who were already a block away, causing more havoc.

Gathering his wits around him, the stallion turned on the spot and promptly walked straight into a young mare, knocking her to the ground. He bent down to help her up, and then I lost the two of them as the carriage continued down the street.

Up ahead was a fancy restaurant, awash with light and high-society ponies. A line stretched out of the door and around the corner of the building. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until a rather filthy, malnourished unicorn crossed in front of our stagecoach, carrying a small can. He approached the line of upper-class ponies, begging desperately for charity.

The aristocrats ignored the stallion, sticking their snouts in the air and looking elsewhere, causing the destitute unicorn to only press harder, practically shoving the can under their faces, pleading for some money. I lost sight of the restaurant and the stallion soon after as we rounded another corner, heading down some dark street completely different than than the last.

A signpost informed me that we were turning off of Fletcher Memorial Drive and onto Memory Lane.

Storefronts lined the new road, but not a single one was open, leaving the outside pitch black, save for the lampposts that lined the street. And yet, ponies still moved in the shadows that doused the streets, drifting through the darkness only to appear suddenly as they moved into the sharp cone of light cast by the numerous streetlamps and then vanished again.

The streetlights illuminated the otherwise black streets, shining spotlights on the lives of the citizens of Canterlot as they walked underneath them. Every second, every minute, some stranger would step into the light, revealing a snapshot, a single moment of their life before disappearing into obscurity, only to appear again under the next light.

Under one such light was a mare dressed in a blue dress, trotting to some destination unknown, throwing cautious glances over her shoulder as she went, undoubtedly afraid for her safety in the night.

Under another was an elderly stallion, who tripped on some unseen bump in the pavement, sending his glasses and cane flying out of sight.

Underneath yet another was a very lewd looking mare calling out to a passing stallion, who paused and, after a moment, approached her.

And as the carriage rolled through the city, the streetlights grew ever brighter and more intense, and the scenes below them, the glimpses, grew even more revealing, more elaborate, more significant. As I watched them, they became deeply personal moments, moments that should have never seen the light of day.

Beneath one light was a little colt crying out for his missing father, nopony to comfort him.

Beneath the next was a group of young foals, unicorns and pegasi, bullying an earth pony that couldn’t even defend himself.

In the next cone of light was a tired-looking mare scolding her son into submission for something that was hardly worth the punishment.

Underneath the next spotlight was a teenage unicorn forcing himself on an innocent and terrified colt, scarring him for life.

In the next light, the space was filled by the imposing figure of a griffon, thrashing some unidentifiable form cowering on the ground below him.

The next, a colt meeting a mare for the first time, and the mare cheating on him behind his back.

Below the next was a defeated and pain-stricken stallion, hoping that alcohol and drugs could make him forget the past and deaden the hurt.

And below even another streetlight was a single payphone box with its receiver dangling off the hook, the mare on the other end calling out endlessly for a stallion that wasn’t there.

And the streetlights continued, beneath each something different. Light blurred together, scenes moving by at a rapid pace, each one a moment caught wild-eyed in the revealing spotlight. Every moment of pain, every moment of joy, every passing second revealed more and more of some stranger’s life.

And as the carriage turned a corner, there was one last cone of light. Inside of the beam, collapsed on the brick sidewalk, was a pink stallion. He looked up at me with wild and staring eyes and then disappeared from view. I was struck with the eerie feeling that he could see right through the tinted windows, right into me.

We continued down the new street. There were no more lights, no more ponies on the street to be caught in them.

Canterlot was dark.

And I felt empty.

Alone.

Sad.

Tired.

Confused.

Afraid.

Betrayed.

Angry.

I wasn’t sure why.

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” The voice reverberated around the small carriage, but Short didn’t seem to notice it. He continued looking out the window, chin rested on a hoof, lost in thought.

A face loomed out of the shadows across from me, and soon a body, a whole pony, was sitting in front of me, next to Short. The stallion looked at me with predatory eyes and smoothed back his mane.

“Who’re you?” I wanted to ask him. I moved my mouth to make the words, but no sound came out.

The gray stallion with pink eyes smiled. “It was horrible, isn’t it?” He continued without acknowledging me. “Your life wasn’t fair at all. You father went and abandoned you, your mother was overbearing and intimidating, your teachers were abusive, and your wife was unfaithful and lied to you.” He paused, his smile fading. “You were beaten down, beaten up, raped, terrified, confused, a victim of racism, and a whole host of other unspeakable acts, and you took it all and locked it away inside. Doesn’t all that make you angry; doesn’t it boil your blood? Isn’t it maddening, isn’t it unfair? Your whole life, you’ve been abused and you’ve done nothing in retaliation!”

I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn’t. There was something bubbling to the front of my mind as the stallion spoke, something I should have remembered but hadn’t. Memories that were my own, but lived by somepony that wasn’t me.

I could remember my father’s death, my mother’s restrictive control over my life, but none of it was me. It was like watching somepony else, somepony pink, carry out my life.

And through it all, I felt an unfamiliar anger begin to find its way into my mind.

The stallion’s pink eyes flashed as he leaned in closer, and I found myself leaning in with him, hanging on his every word. I could see my own gray eyes reflected in his.  “Don’t you think it’s time for a change?” he growled. “All that anger, all that hate, that misanthropy, sadness, pain, confusion, paranoia, and all those secret fantasies of revenge have been bottled up inside that head of yours for so long. Don’t you think it’s time to let it all out? Don’t you think it’s time to show them the consequences of their years of abuse? Take the stage and show the world what it’s done. Hurt them, make them suffer the way everyone did to you.” He glanced next to him, at Short, and wrapped a hoof around his neck, but the pegasus didn’t react. The mysterious stallion smiled, flashing his teeth. “They don’t deserve anything less.”

The stallion vanished between a blink of my eyes and left everything in silence. His words echoed inside my mind, filling me up. Memories of cruelty and betrayal bounced around inside my head, only serving to fan the fire that was slowly building up.

It wasn’t right. No one had shown me any love, any sympathy. The world, everyone I knew, everything I’d been through, had done nothing but hurt and deceive me.

I only had myself.

I couldn’t trust anypony, anyone, anything else.

They all deserved to die after what they’d done to me. All those years of mistreatment, all that pain. They were all to blame.

Something gray stirred in my chest.

I stared at the pegasus across from me with veiled disgust. He was still looking out that window, a worried look splattered across his face, his hoof tapping anxiously on the seat next to him.

What did he have to be really worried about?! His life was perfect! The fucker wouldn’t know pain if it clamped its cruel jaws around his head and swallowed him whole. The pathetic, innocent, little cloudwalker had his tail in a twist.

It took all the will I could muster not to punch that expression off of his face, to show him how the world really worked. He wouldn’t understand. He would be scared to see how rough life really was.

Nopony cared about you. Not ever. And those closest to you hurt you the most.

I had to find that out the hard way.

Outside, a large stadium loomed into view out of the night. We passed by the entrance, and I saw a few dozen ponies, stragglers, clamoring outside the entrance, anxious to be let in. Security guards stood outside of large gates, checking each and every pony for any sort of concealed weapon or illegal item before letting them in.

One mare stood on the corner of the pavement, selling tickets to the show. As we turned the corner and headed for a back alley, a guard walked up to her and told her to stop scalping. The mare refused, yelling to a group of passerbys to buy her tickets, and the guard grabbed her by her mane and hauled her off, kicking and screaming.

The carriage moved forward for another minute before grinding to a halt by the backstage entrance. “We’re here,” said Short, giving a small sigh. He turned to face me, smiling, before opening the door and stepping out into the back alleyway. “Come on, Pink, it’s time to go.”

I gritted my teeth and stayed in the carriage. “My name’s not Pink.”

The pegasus stopped, looking at me. “Yeah it is.” He chuckled. “Now come on, stop foolin’ around. You gotta show to get to.”

A guttural bark of a laugh escaped my lips. “I don’t take orders from nopony, and certainly not from fucking winged freaks of nature like you!” I moved closer to Short with each word, until I was inches from his own stunned face.  I stabbed a hoof at his chest, our hot breath visible in the night air. “My name’s Gray, and don’t forget it again!”

I shoved the pegasus aside and clambered out of the carriage, shooting a dirty look at the driver, daring him to do something. The lowly peasant gulped, fear visible in his eyes, and anxiously looked away. He was smart to do so.

Behind me, the insolent bastard Short spoke up, finally coming out of whatever stupor he was in. “What’s gotten into you, Pink? I know you would never say somethin’ like tha’.” He placed a hoof on my shoulder.

I stopped dead in my tracks and spun around, throwing the dirty pegasus to the ground. “Don’t you dare touch me again! You and your ilk have done enough to me!”

Short staggered to his hooves, wings flapping in irritation. “What are you talking about? You’re not thinkin’ straight, Pink. Those drugs must be messin’ with you.”

I circled him, a malicious grin finding its way onto my snout. “Oh, I’m perfectly lucid, Short.” I spat his name at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you don’t remember those years after the war when you pegasi and those racist, magic-using hornheads attacked me just because you could.”

I coolly readjusted the leather jacket I was wearing before looking the pegasus right in the eyes. “You, and everyone else, all are gonna get your punishment. You’ll all get what you deserve,” I took a step forward, “and I’m gonna be the one who’s gonna do it.” I cackled and twirled around, towards the stadium, full of so many ready to be hurt like they had me.

“Hey! Don’t walk away!” came Short’s ever-irritating shout. After everything I had done, everything I told him, still he persisted.  I scowled and ignored the pegasus.

In front of me was the entrance to the backstage of the stadium, a shining light amid the darkness of the backstreet. Even outside the building, a cacophony of sound could be heard as the audience chattered away excitedly, ready for when I would take the stage, even if it wouldn’t turn out the way they expected it to.

As I approached the door, a gust of cool air rushed over my shaven head, and Short landed on the ground in front of me in a flutter of wings, blocking my path. We stared at each other, before he spoke. “Pink, please. I—”

“What did I just tell you!?” I snarled. “My name is Gray! Pink isn’t here anymore, sunshine!” My patience was already worn thin and the weakling horsefly wasn’t helping it any. I was dangerously close to beating the bastard if he didn’t learn his place soon enough.

The pegasus took a step back, visibly frightened at my expression, but still held his ground. “Pink, what are you doing?”

I stared at him and twisted my neck slightly, the bones audibly popping. I took a deep breath. “Get out of my way, you overgrown feather duster.”

The pegasus looked up at me defiantly, his short stature making him laughable at best. “Oh yeah? Or wha—”

I took a step forward and rammed him into the wall, pinning him against it. He struggled for a moment, trying to push off the wall with his wings and hindlegs, but I pressed down on his neck, choking him, stopping him. His eyes were wide with fear and he grabbed at my hooves, trying to remove them from his neck.

I smiled arrogantly at him. “Don’t. Get. In. My. Way. Again. Get it, short stuff? Next time, I’ll do much worse.” The pegasus sputtered and gently nodded his head as best he could. “Good.” I said, and let him go.

The pegasus fell to the ground, coughing and clutching at his neck. He looked up at me, tears evident on his face. I scoffed at the bastard’s pathetic cries and straightened my jacket again and brushed a bit of dust from the patch sewn on the sleeve, a half-red, half-white record disk, my cutie mark. My gaze lingered on it for a second, but then I shook my head and slammed a hoof into the pegasus, who whimpered and curled up further into a ball from the impact.

I turned away from him, shoving my sunglasses on in the process, and walked down the hallway to the stadium.

I had a show to get ready for.