Beep… beep… beep…
“Diane? Diane, can you hear me?”
Her blue eyes opened slightly. A woman with a nurse hat and a tight bun on her head was holding a clipboard and looking at her. She groaned and opened her eyes more, strands of straight pink hair falling over her face as she lifted her head. Voices were swimming in her mind. “Nurse?” She asked. “Nurse Redheart? Is that you?” Of course it isn’t! She’s not real. Ponies are fiends. Fiends! Too many voices were rambling inside her head. It’s not time to sleep; you have to wake up. This isn’t a dream; you killed your friends. “Where’s the Doctor?”
“Doctor Ratchet will be in shortly. Would you like some more orange juice?” The nurse held out a juice box for her.
This is what happens- you kill your friends- they don’t want you anymore- you and your stupid parties! Who needs them?! Kill them all. “Nurse, my… friends don’t like my parties….”
“I’m sure they do, sweetie,” the nurse busied herself, looking away from her and fixing the sheets.
“They… don’t want to be my friends anymore.” She looked down blankly at her knees, curling them up to her chin. Her hair cascaded down the sheets on her legs, covering her face. Listen- Pinkie- Listen- Shhh- You hear that? It’s insanity- It’s in the walls. Crack… crack… You’re cracked! The walls, Pinkie.
She got out of bed. The nurse tried to keep her in bed. She just pushed her way past the nurse and headed out the door, placing her hand on the wall as she continued slowly down the hall. The nurse kept a safe distance behind her. “Diane-“
“Pinkamina….”
“All right, Dia-“
“Pinkamina. Pinkamina Diane Pie. Pinkamina.”
“Honey, the doctor will be coming to your room soon, please come back with me?”
“Doctor Whooves?”
“No, Doctor Ratchet.”
“There is no Doctor Ratchet, Nurse Redheart. Only Whooves.”
The walls! Listen, Pinkie! Stop wasting time! The walls! The walls!
Suddenly, a young man with tousled brown hair and lab coat, carrying a clipboard, met up with the two women in the hall. “Well, now, Miss Diane! How are you?”
“Shh….” She placed her head against the wall, “The walls are cracked.”
Seeing that this may be her only chance for getting the girl to speak with the doctor, the nurse tried to speak to her. “Um, Pinkamena? Would you like to tell Doctor, um, Whooves here what you told me?”
“My friends don’t like my parties and they don’t want to be my friends anymore.” She glanced blankly at the doctor, eyes looking in seemingly different directions. The doctor nodded solemnly and pulled the nurse to the side. They talked in hushed voices. Soon, a consensus was apparently reached, for the nurse and doctor looked back at her in tandem, and the nurse led her into her own room, all white and soft and fool-proof.
You know what they’re saying, Pinkamina? We know what they’re saying. She looked over at the white wall, which now had a cupcake, with arms and legs, standing on it, shaking itself at her in disapproval. It had eyes and the top of the pastry came off of the little wrapper on its body like a mouth as it spoke. They think you’re delusional. You imagine you’re a pony? Ha! What lies! Look at your hands! Yes, hands. You have hands, Pinkamena. She contemplated these words and looked confoundedly at the fingers that wiggled before her blue eyes, as though she were controlling them. Those ponies? Your “friends?” Ha! You don’t have friends, foolish girl! Delusional, that’s what you are.
“I’m delusional, you’re right, talking cupcake,” she nodded and stared blankly at the ceiling. “And no one can save me from my delusions…. Cupcake? Are you Rainbow Dash flavor?”