//------------------------------//
// Empty Space: Rewrite 
// Story: A Collection of Writing Experiments 
// by matcha cheesecake 
//------------------------------//



Summary: 
To Fluttershy, it always came back in that black room.




*


“Why do you feel guilty?”

She stared into me, her irises quivering as if searching for my answer. I chewed on my lower lip and decided to study the painting behind her. It was a common home-among-the-clouds piece-- a typical attempt to induce some semblance of comfort in a place where ponies talk about the uncomfortable. It wasn’t working. I looked down, at my forehooves pawing at the floor. 

“I hurt other ponies.” 

“Besides that one time with your best friends?”

I swallowed and nodded, causing my long forelock to fall over my face. It was nice to have some kind of barrier from her gaze. Memories from long ago, both good and bad, clashed and whirled around my head. It was like a tempest or a flash flood, and the damp heat in my eyes told me of its overflow.

“I’m always... I don’t remember much of my foalhood, but even back then... I vaguely remember telling somepony off and then crying about it afterwards because I felt so horrible for hurting that pony’s feelings.”

A minute passed, then two. Nothing. I lifted my head, just enough to see her jotting down some notes. She watched me intently, the fascinating specimen I was. I watched her watching me watch her. Those shining eyes seemed to bore into my very soul. 

“What are you thinking about right now?”

Nothing. 

Everything.

“In my mind, I have this, um, place. It used to be a forest, then, um, a desert. Right now, it’s just a room. A black room.”

“Tell me about this black room.” She scribbled a bit more on her notepad. “What’s it like? What happens there?”

Just like that, I found myself inside the black room. 

“Empty,” my voice resounded in the void.

“Empty,” another voice echoed behind me. I shot to the air and sharply faced the intruder. She had my long pink mane on her head, my yellow coat on her body, and my butterflies on her flank. But the way her face contorted to sneer at my sudden flight told me who she was.

“New Fluttershy.” 

It was barely a whisper, but the words reverberated throughout the room, growing louder with each iteration. New Fluttershy. New Fluttershy. New Fluttershy. I dropped to the ground and curled up in the farthest corner I could find, my hooves over my ears. I even closed my eyes for good measure, but nothing blocked out the sound. It just continued to increase volume, hammering me until I could no longer distinguish the words from the noise.

“Stop,” I whimpered. “Please, make it stop.”

Something seemed to suck away every sound, and the silence that followed left my ears ringing.

“No!”

The ground disappeared from under me. It took me a moment to realize I was being lifted up. Somepony had my face in her hooves. She shook my head violently until my eyes flew open. It was the other Fluttershy. Her features twisted into a smile as cold as the Crystal Tundra, and I felt I was thrown there with nothing but my pelt against the harsh weather. 

“I hate you.”

“You can’t erase me.” 

One Fluttershy let go, and one Fluttershy fell. But which was the real Fluttershy, and which one the fake? 

“I can never forgive anypony who hurts my friends!” I cried out to my tormentor. But nopony was there, and I continued to fall. My wings had firmly locked themselves to my sides. No matter how many times I pleaded, they wouldn’t let me fly. I could only shut my eyes and brace myself for impact.

“Fluttershy, that’s enough.”

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my therapist’s office, my hooves on firm ground. She was smiling gently, a box of tissues at hoof. I took one, dabbed my cheeks, then blew my nose. 

“Same time next week?”