I hadn’t had to call for help, nor had I had the strength to. Ponies had come when they heard doors slamming and somepony crying. Me crying. And I’d sat there in the middle of Lyra’s living room, clutching that damned book and letter to my chest, sodding breathlessly while nurses, guards and friends had washed around me and taken Carrot Top away.
Just another pony on Vinyl’s growing list.
I wanted nothing more than to curl up and fade, cease, or at least forget what I had seen. It was maddening, crushing. But even I knew that was why I could not be left alone. And I wasn’t.
I may have said little and thought less, but within an hour of that poor pale unicorn finding us, I knew there were even more rumours. Carrot Top had been found on my bed, soaked in blood, her throat ripped apart cruelly. But at least she was alive. I was thankful for that. Even as I found myself being led forward by by an anxious-looking young guard, she’d woken. Of course she couldn’t speak, neither for me nor against Vinyl. But she’d tried.
Imagine the confusion of the gathered medical and security ponies when the pony nearest her death had struggled towards the pony most thought was to blame?
But I was to blame. They’d asked me questions once we reached to hospital and got Carrot Top stable. I’d answered truthfully about what I’d done, but every question about Carrot Top’s wound I refused to acknowledge.
You see, I’d opened Vinyl’s book.
*****
March 8th, Year 1001
Wow, this is weird. I don’t even know what to write in a diary. Octy seems to think I just absolutely HAVE to start one, though. I’ve heard it a dozen times: ‘You need to order your thoughts, Vinyl, have you never heard of organization, Vinyl?’ I don’t why why I have to write it all down in some book Octavia made me get when I could spend my time telling all of it to her.
Hey, that’s a great idea! How would my Diary like to be called Octavia?
*****
A diary. I don’t even remember making her start one, but apparently she had. And named it after me. Here, just maybe, I had a chance to unravel time, go back to when Vinyl was still my Vinyl, and see where it all went wrong. And so I had kept my mouth shut when I was questioned in the waiting room just outside Carrot Top’s ward at the clinic, waiting for the moment when nopony was looking to open the book at another random date, looking for anything important, anything at all, to help me understand why Vinyl had fallen so far, perhaps too far to ever pull back.
*****
June 16th, Year 1001
Hey Octy!
Guess what? The real Octy just agreed to move in with me! Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I know it’s early days for us and all, but I think things are gonna work out great. I don’t know why I picked Ponyville, maybe cuz I know so many ponies there, maybe because it’s quiet...I need some quiet. I’ve had my eye on Octy for a while, and I’m sure she knew, but after that whole thing with Blueblood banning her from the concert hall, and the show we - I put on to get Octavia’s band back in, she’s warmed up to me as well. Despite it being my fault she was banned in the first place, damn my big mouth…
That was a couple weeks ago now. Octavia’s manager kinda-sorta quit on her, said something about ‘an absolute publicity nightmare, the horror!’, but that doesn’t matter. I already manage myself, surely I can keep a hoof on her career too? I do owe her.
I wouldn’t want to let her down.
*****
She’d always been so confident, so self-assured that I was secure and happy with her taking it upon herself. I’d never once felt that she didn’t have everything she needed firmly in-rein. I don’t think she ever doubted it either.
So their guards’ and doctors’ questions fell on my deaf ears while I waited for them to give up. And give up they did, growing impatient with my vague murmurs and disjointed nonsense. They thought I was crazy, in shock, that I’d need to be ‘observed’.
Good.
*****
January 2nd, Year 1002
Hey Octy.
Sorry it’s been a while. The radio station had another fire - I should take Tavi’s advice and get less...flammable equipment. Heh. It makes for a great joke though.
I just got back from Tavi’s latest recital. I had no idea how famous she would become! The fiasco (Octy’s rubbing off on me, clearly) with Blueblood, the concert and the Radio Station has just sent her popularity skyrocketing like a megaspell! I’m happy for her, so happy. And I’m getting a nice cut of it too, being here official manager now. Not to say I don’t feel a little envious, of course, she’s rolling in bits right now. I’ve scheduled two shows of my own for next week. I don’t know how I’ll make it to them, but I’ll have to make a plan. I gotta keep DJ PON3 up to Scratch!
I have a couple ideas for songs I plan on working out once this thing with Octy is worked out.
I haven’t told you about that, have I? Yeah, the other day, Octy comes home and tells me Brass and Harpo got together. I thought it was great. Weird, but great. Octy though, she was quiet. She’s been doing that lately, I dunno why. Goes and practices more and more while I’m trying to nap. I usually end up sleeping in the basement so she thinks I’m busy working, don’t want her to know how tired I am. She might feel bad - worse, as it happens.
Now though, I think I need to ask her what’s up. She played stiffly tonight, kept looking over at Beauty Brass and Harpo. I think she admires their relationship. They're doing all the normal lovey-dovey romantic stuff. Me and Octy never did any of that. We’ve been pretty much going out for, what, ten months? We’ve never done much, though. Dates, sure, enough for the media to know it’s official. The odd moonlight kiss, we’ve even slept in a same bed, but she gets shy of anything more than that. She says she loves me, and I believe her, but I think it’s family. They're pressuring her to find some le de da stallion rolling in even more money than she is. Whatever is bothering her, though, I’ll be here. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing, show her that I can be worth her love, that I can be respectable like she wants. I’ll wait for her to open up, because a mare like Octavia?
She’s worth waiting for.
*****
Vinyl, I never knew. I never knew you read me so well, or fought so hard to earn my love. Didn’t you know you had it? I was...waiting for you…
Carrot Top didn’t let the doctors take me to my own ward. She nearly clawed herself after me when they led me out of sight. I didn’t know what they were doing until I found myself swaying in front of a bed staring blankly at it’s bleached linen, tears in my eyes a book in my grip. And a look over my shoulder found me looking into her bright green eyes, questioning, concerned, but not scared. Not giving up, like I was.
I found it warming somehow, but also humbling. Here was Carrot Top, a simple mare by volition, a pony I’d never so much as looked at before. But there was more to her than just that. She was compassionate, strong and capable. And even from the horrifying position of her hospital bed, she was looking at me, silently giving me the strength to continue. Strength I’d never had. In the same way, I’d somehow managed to overlook Vinyl’s hidden weaknesses. And now it was too late.
Only it wasn’t. I could see it Carrot Top’s eyes; that seeking, hard look. Her resolve burned hotter than ever, not weakened at all by her injuries. Where I had run from my fear of that place, Carrot Top would, without a doubt, have faced it head-on, were she capable. And now that roll had passed to me.
I drew on her strength then. I heard, in chilling clarity, the vengeful music that had played over Carrot Top’s intrusion. Music, I felt sure, encapsulated this mares undying steadfastness more than anything else.
...Wait…
In a flurry, I spun back and tore open Vinyl’s diary, seeking it’s secrets.
*****
August 23rd, Year 1002
Hey Octy
I have some bad news. My show got cancelled. It was the last chance to play my new soundtrack before the album release, but that’s okay. I make plenty of bits as is. Not as much as Octavia, sure, but she’s playing at high-class gigs. I‘d know after all. I organize the damn things.
Either way, I need to seriously settle down and write some new songs myself. My last album sold real well, even if it was just a bunch of remixes I threw together between naps in the basement where Octy wouldn’t find me. Wouldn’t want her to be worried.
It’s worth it, though. I think my iced-over Octy is warming up, aren’t you? I loved the gift on our anniversary, I really did. That show was great, I loved what I saw of it! Any show Pinkie Pie throws is a total laugh! I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I promise. I was just...so tired.
Three shows, Octy. Three! I know I said I’m used to not much sleep, but I still need some. And if you keep moving your recitals to days I have shows as well, on top of K-Kolt Radio? You're gonna break me.
I think I found a solution though; I got a letter today from this mare in cloudsdale. Pegasus, of course. She says she has some new equipment that might speed up my music production! And if I produce faster, produce more, I’ll have more time to go to shows with you, more time to make up for my silly mistakes, more time to sleep. Maybe we can go for that walk in the park I missed on Hearts and Hooves Day last time.
Anything to keep you happy as you are. Anything for Octy.
*****
Pegasus. Cloudsdale. Equipment. Genesis.
*****
September 5th, Year 1002
Hey Octy, the new kit’s here.
I told you about that cloudsdale mare. She looked real creepy though, all dressed in a long black cloak and stuff, didn’t even know she had wings til she started flying the boxes in. She sold this stuff to me real cheap, even helped install it. She didn’t tell me what it did exactly, other than it being a ‘more direct connection to the muse’ or something, but I found out. Oh, did I find out.
And you’d be terrified.
It’s good that you were out with Lyra and Bons today. I know you don’t like blood. I cleaned it up though, real well. It’s this new stuff though. It’s scarey, Octy, but...brilliant.
there are these little metal buzzy things, right? I thought they were like microphones or something, for collecting sound? Well, I was right, just not like I thought.
It hurts, for a bit, but when it gets a taste for you, it stops biting. They make music, Octy. Straight from my thoughts, the music comes out how I want it. The first time one of these things bit me, I tried to get away, but the music it played stopped me. I started all high and scarey, but when I made the connection, that the thing in my leg played the song? It changed. It plays what I’m thinking about, so it played an epic.
You won’t like it, but the music is good. I can put up with a little pain if it means I won’t miss any more time with you.
But we won’t be sharing a bed tonight.
*****
Music straight from her thoughts. Leaching straight from her soul. Those violent, angry beats after we'd broken up. That sweet happy string-music when Lyra had come home bleeding. The heavy base-and-cello that horrible day I fought free of that house. My Song.
Oh Maker, Vinyl, what did you get yourself into?
*****
April 18th, Year 1003
Hey Octy
What’s wrong? You haven’t spoken to me for a while, not properly. It’s never anything more than ‘what’s wrong Vinyl, where have you been Vinyl, why are you bleeding Vinyl?’ I want to tell you! But you won’t listen!
You’re Octavia Philharmonica. Everypony in Equestria knows you don’t need me, you stick around because you want me. And if I told you my last album, the only album I’ve ever produced that outsells yours, was written in blood? How could you ever want me again?
And I need to make music. I can’t be some nopony standing next to an icon, how could you want me then? I need to make music. I need to make music. I need to make more music.
Angel came by today. That’s what I call her. She doesn’t mind, so long as she gets paid. So long as she can keep selling those stolen soul-drills to me. I need more. I know that if I can just figure out how they tick, I can make a better way to use them. Then I won’t have to bleed. Then you can stop worrying and get back to doing what Octy does. Just be beautiful again.
I can win this, you’ll see.
*****
No Vinyl, you obviously couldn’t.
*****
October 12th, Year 1003
Hey Octy
Angel’s been here. I don’t know when, or why, really, but she’s left more soul-drills. These ones are different. Sharper.
I think I’m getting blackouts. Time passes and I don’t see it. I heard you knocking earlier, Octy, but you didn’t come in. It’s not locked, you know. Though it should be. Its a mess down here. Wouldn’t want to scare you…
Woah, I just did black out. I need to get this drill out. I think I’ve overused it. They go bad after a while, eat you up and make no sound. They get bored. They want new blood. I wonder, Octy, sometimes I wonder what music you’d make with one of these? Mine is...well, mine is ME. It sounds like my very essence is singing for me. I want to hear what your soul sounds like, too.
No! I won’t, never! I’d never hurt you! If I have just a few more weeks, I can get my little prototype working. I’ll make the best music ever and won’t hurt anypony ever again. Then I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you, because I know you have questions. You just don’t know what to ask.
Honestly, neither do I.
*****
You never did find enough time, did you Vinyl? They broke you, didn’t they? She broke your mind.
I broke your heart…
*****
February 28th, Year 1004
Why Octy?
I read your mail, you silly mare. I know you’ve read mine. It’s okay when it’s a bill, a silly little bill you never had to know about, but it’s not okay when you decide to tear my heart out and take it with you?!
Take it Octy, it’s yours anyway. I’m not really me anymore. I spend more time than I can even remember staring at nothing, and even more time staring at pictures of you.
Wasn’t I worth your love anymore? I’m successful now, just like you! Two more weeks, Octy, I had time off! I know I’ve been down lately. I’m sleeping more but I’m still tired, so tired. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever really woken up. This morning I wish I hadn’t.
You’re gone. You’ve been gone for a while, though, we both knew it. I tried harder, Octy, I stopped experimenting made music to get my album out in time for our holiday. I was going to take you to Baltimare. The tickets are useless now.
Angel says I need to focus. Get a grip. Forget about you and move on. Make more music. Well she found out how hard making music her way really is! She got one of her own drills in her leg. I hope it scars.
I’m not me without Octy, but I’m not me without music. But the music takes me out of me, leaves me hanging in the air, leaves Vinyl Scratch behind, leaves her tired. If she’s so broken, what do I have to go back to?
A world without Octavia, that’s what. And that just isn’t worth it.
*****
Oh Vinyl, why did you never tell me? Why did you wait until it was too late to save yourself?
Save yourself from your idea of me?
*****
March 3rd, Year 1004
Oh Maker, Octy, what have I done?
I don’t remember it I swear, I never would have done this. I don’t know who, I don’t know when, but somepony's been here. The cables are outside, all the way up the stairs, in the lounge, in my bedroom. In your bedroom, Octy. I know the date. I know it’s been three days. But I remember hours, only. Nothing else. But I can hear the music, Octy. I can hear it playing. It’s not me. It’s not me. It’s not any of the tunes I've heard. No.
It was you, wasn’t it?
Its your song.
You came back for me, tried to save me? Tried to get in here and beat the pit this house has become, save the husk that Vinyl Scratch is.
Maybe you didn’t, maybe I called you? Vinyl Scratch has been doing weird things lately, things I haven't told her to do. I told her to say no to Angel, send her away. I told her to stop making music.
She doesn’t listen. Sometimes I can be her, if I have to. I can still save you. And me. Maybe I can end it all? Maybe I can be Vinyl again.
Be Vinyl~
Be what you want again.
Be Vinyl~
‘BE̶ ̧N̢͜O̴̧T̶!͡’
*****
Her last entry. The last words a sane Vinyl wrote, laid in paper mere not even two days ago. But that last line…
I scrambled, trying to find where I’d seen that same messy script, that same awkward hoof-writing that most certainly was not Vinyl.
The letter.
I pulled out and for the first time gave it any consideration. All I knew was that same hoof-writing was scrawled in a threat across the letter’s face. A letter, I now saw, that was from Lyra:
Dear Octavia.
I found Bon Bon. She’s in Withervale General Hospital. Nopony can tell me what happened, but they say it was a mugging gone wrong. What pony would do such a thing? I don’t know what to do. I know you’re probably busy with Vinyl - I hope things are going well - but if you could spare a day, I need somepony to…
The rest was illegible under the scrawled line; ‘If̵ y̡ou ̀e͜ve҉r̴ w̕ant to se̴ȩ t͝he̢m̷ a̴li͡ve̷,͞ go a͘wa̵y̡ ̸an͢d͏ n҉ev̕er͠ ̢c҉omè b͏a͞ćk͘.̵’
Missing links and misdirections written by a hoof I didn't know, but one I despised. Bon Bon was hurt, and there was no way I could believe that was unconnected to what I was seeing around me.
Lyra needed me.
Carrot Top needed me.
Vinyl needed me.
My thoughts were torn only for a moment, though. As I finally looked up from both the diary and the letter, Carrot Top’s eyes held me riveted while a memory flashed before my own;
“Octy, I g-gotta talk to you...”
“L-listen, I n-need your help…”
“I’ll come around this evening; just stay calm and wait for me…”
The time for waiting was over.