Closing her eyes, the beautiful darkness of the hollowed out room began to show. She placed her head on top the sack of clothes, and covered herself with a dampened towel, trying to get another night of sleep. Underneath her, a cardboard box, flattened on the attic's wooden floor. And the attic floor, made from wood, infested with demonic spiders, and covered with savage rats.
The occasional rat would take a few of the spiders out of the race for good, but never got to see the end of the race himself. If she was lucky, the spiders would eat the carcass instead of adding it to their pile of rats; rotting and spoiling in the dry, musty air of the attic. Polluting the room with rotting flesh, dead bugs and maggots eating their way to the core of the pile. Day by day she waited for a chance to escape the confinement, and wonder outside into the light.
Ophran didn't care for her wellbeing, nor his own for that manner. Letting himself starve, rather than going out to get groceries, or even going as far as eating the rats. He had always said they tasted good, who could blame a creature? After you get over the taste of death, scent of feces and the fur, they are delectable. Although he was an intelligent person, he never did seem to have his head on his shoulder; often more concerned with Silver than the state of his orphanage. And silver was not even worth holding precious. Nothing beaten, and bruised could ever be loveable, but Ophran found a way to hold such a creature close. Some how.
Resting alone in her comfortable attic bed, she awoke. Not sure why, but their was a feel in the air. One she had never known of. 'The rats aren’t fighting the spiders… the spiders aren’t dying off… This must be my chance!' Getting on her hooves, and heading to a trap door in the floor, she pursued the exit. Not caring for the old man who had abused her, and not even concerned about the consequences if caught. Pursuing the mysterious presence, she found herself confused; a feeling of both justice and order, but murderous intent, and rage.
Arriving down stairs, she found herself standing in a puddle of water. "Did a pipe break?" she questioned herself, not concerned of the answer. Pressing onward, the puddle led into a full trail through the house, making it's way into the kitchen and around the doorway. An unpleasant smell hung over the room, one more grotesque than rotting flesh, and corpses she had known and hated. A sewer pipe?' She asked once more.
Entering the kitchen, a pony was dumping liquid from a container onto the counter tops, not minding her, but not needing to. Turning around, he saw the filly; wide eyed and curious of who he was. Baffled by the child, he did away with her, and resumed pouring liquid on the floor, and up the stairway. Watching him do so, she followed. Making sure not to get caught, much less heard.
Following the aimless wanderer, she found herself outside Ophran's bedroom. The stallion began talking to Ophran, but she couldn't hear most of it. she could barely make out the goodbye. All she knew was that whatever the murderous intent was, it had stopped with a single match strike. The flame of that match lit the whole bedroom, and Ophran into a blaze.
Horrified, she tried her best to escape out of the front door. Unable to, she tried the back door, which had already caught fire. A raging inferno began to sweep the house, and consume it with blazing rage. Taking her chances with being burned, she ran to the back entryway, and jumped at the window’s glass plain; getting severely cut along her left ear; but alive none the less.
"Where is he!?" She asked herself, looking around the area she once played in. Rounding the house, she found herself in the sight of the stallion who had gave her a chance of freedom. The light in her fallen life. Clockwork, the renegade angel of her hell. Standing on the pathway of the house, a tear ran off his cheek and into the worn ground.
"Goodbye you sick bastard." Dragging a hoof across his eye, he smiled. His task had been complete. No one to link him to anything, and a life ahead of himself. Except for the little filly that had been in the house and was supposed to burn to death with the unsightly child molester, many called the leader of the orphanage. Death would have been better than letting a child grow up into a monster. He'd learned that in the past. "you." pointing a hoof in the direction of silver, he stared into the fire.
Silver, not shocked at all, but more relieved than anything, replied to the killer as if they were old friends, "Hi! How are you?" Walking closer to her savior, she tried smiling through the pain she had just felt. Blood running down her lips as she smiled, and hair in her eyes as usual.
Without a concern for her, he gave it his all to keep her away from the monster he allowed to be created. "You should have died. The few who survive hell on earth need to go to their true resting place," staring at the filly once more, he gave it another attempt. "If you don't try your hardest to kill yourself, then i'll have to kill you someday soon." She still didn't care, and moved closer.
"I don't plan on dying that quick,” Silver Strings replied, "I plan on making this world better for everyone else." Laughing at her own false hope, she smiled, "You killed one of the few sick bastards, i know of one that need to be killed." Looking back up at the stallion she had called for, she boasted once more, "If you change your mind about killing, that'll be one less pony to kill. and one more friend to help."
"You think you can save me from myself? I'd like to see you try."
Getting dragged through the cold streets of their town she was on her way to the police office. Where she would have to meet someone named Xivi. Trusting as always, She waited for her chance to prove herself.
“No!” silver screamed at Clockwork, “I’m not going back there! I don’t want to talk to them!!!” Running through the door she had entered from, she made her way to the front door and out the house. Tears dripping down her face, and rain pouring from the sky.
While Silver ran from the house, the phone call went on. “She overheard us, and is running away. Said she didn’t want to answer anything. Damn brat,” he explained. ‘can’t ponies ever think about others feelings. i’m gonna have to deal with her and myself.’
Through the phone, the head of investigations replied, no concern for their wellbeing.. “Do you need help finding her?” He asked, “we could send some help for you loc-”
“That won't be needed.” Placing the phone back onto its stand, he was up, and out the door. A pair of jackets, and a umbrella. “Why do i always get stuck working when i want to relax?” Taking off into the night, he began his search for his little filly friend. Silver Stings, the light in the dark world.