I laughed. I laughed so softly, no one could hear me. They never heard me when I spoke, so why should laugher be different? Or any emotion, for that matter? After all, words are based on emotion. I wanted to leave them. I wanted to show them how much they'd miss my soft laughter, but I knew no one would notice. I gave up, or so I thought. I saw them, crouched over me. Had they heard my laugh? Probably. I was never the best at being soft-voiced when I wanted to. They all looked worried, but I had no idea why. I'd been depressed for the longest time, and they should know that. Was it my laughter? Was it even laughing? I don't think so. I think I had cried. I had cried aloud for the first time in years.
She walked up to me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. She whispered to me, "you don't have to to this." Her voice shook with the rest of her body. She struggled just to keep her hand on my shoulder. I stared back at her, fighting back the tears in my eyes. I was such a coward...I couldn't even choke a response out. I should've. It was selfish of me to keep it in. Yet, there I was, letting out the pent-up tears. I wanted to scream. I wanted to push her to the ground and tell her this was her fault. It wasn't though, it was my fault. It always had been, I just didn't realize it. I forced my eyes shut. I thought if I closed them hard enough, the tears would stop streaming from my eyes.
I couldn't have been more wrong. How childish of me. Had it really been that long since I'd cried that I couldn't even remember that closing your eyes only makes the tears flow faster? I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit there any longer, just holding the knife. My arm screamed to do something, but my heart kept fighting it. Even though I hated her, I loved her. I couldn't leave her like this... It'd be selfish. I needed to tell her, but my lips refused to open. I leaned forward, or at least I tried to. I then looked down to realize my torso had been tied to the chair. I didn't care. I forced my body against the ropes. It hurt. They were rougher than is anticipated, but it still didn't stop me. I saw her there, laying on the floor. She looked as though her own tears may flow at the drop of a hat. Shock surged throughout my body. Had I really shoved her down? I didn't think so. I didn't have the courage to.
"Why are you doing this, sweetie? D-Do you even know how much momma loves you?" her words sliced through me, sharper than my knife could ever be. I forced myself in front of her, the chair clinging to my back as I feel to my knees. I cringed as the ropes seemingly got tighter. I looked around, trying to find a face that had tied these chains tighter. I was slapped with the reality that it was just her and me in this cramped room. I could've sworn there were more people, but I suppose they'd left. Either that, or I really had become insane from being trapped here. I looked back at her. "Do you...?" she whispered.
"O-Of course I know you love me!" I yelled at her without thinking. My tears finally stopped flowing. I let go of a deep breath. She hoisted herself up with her arms, laying awkwardly beneath me. She sighed, grabbing my cheek. She coughed, trying to speak. Her voice was raspy and hoarse, almost as though she'd been crying much before talking to me.
"Then...why...? Why, Trissy? Tell me why!" I felt a sting on my cheek as she slapped me. I couldn't move, the chair had been heavier than I'd anticipated. We sat in silence for a moment, before she screamed at me again, followed by another slap. "Tell me, dammit!" Tears began to stream down her face, so she turned her eyes toward the wooden floor. "Tell me!"
"I-I...!" I couldn't bear seeing her like this. Her golden hair tussled, frizzy, dirty, unmanaged... Her big blue eyes bloodshot, filed with tears, and bearing large dark circles. Her young, tanned skin suddenly looked wrinkled and pale. I could see her once toned muscles sagging. Her ankles had scars all around them. "I did this to you! You're upset because of me...If I left...you'd... You'd heal! M-Mom..."
"You'd think that losing my only son would make me heal? Is that it? Tristan, no! I've been up thinking about you every night..." she sobbed. Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her tears hit the old floor, so she stopped trying to hide it. She looked me straight in the eyes. I felt powerless against her gaze.
"Exactly! So if I left...you'd heal! You'd never have to worry about me again..." I cried. How could I hate her, how could I say she'd done this to me? She'd done nothing. I loved her, more than humanly possible. How could I leave her here...alone? She'd have no one left. Did I really love her? Did I...?
"Mommy, why are there scars on your ankles?"
"Don't worry about them, Trissy."
I jolted back as the memory haunted me. The first time I'd seen her scars. I didn't know what they meant, and she wouldn't tell me. Now I know. How could I leave her, knowing my death would only cause her more scars? I...I was acting like a child once more. "I-I can't leave you, not like this," I mumbled. She tried to smile, I could tell. That look in her eyes returned. That look she had when Dad had come home. That look when I finally told her I'd given up the pills. The look of...healing.
"B-But we'll never be home again. We're stuck here...forever." I sighed as my reason for holding the knife resurfaced. At least, one of the reasons. "D-Dad...he came home for nothing."
"N-No," she told me. "We will find a way home, if it's the last thing we do. N-now...come, we have to get you untied." She slid out from underneath me. I tried to follow her with my eyes, but she walked right into a blind spot. She moved slowly. It hurt to see her like this, but those thoughts kept lingering in my head somewhere that she'd be better off without me. I tried to ignore them. After a few minutes, I felt a weak tug at the bands keeping me to the chair. She grunted, and I felt another frivolous tug.
"I-I can't..." she coughed. "They're so tight..." I sighed, trying to look at her. My neck cracked a couple of times, but what did I care? All I was focused on was helping her help me. I glanced down to my hand. I still clutched the blade that I'd threatened my own life with mere moments ago. Wordlessly, I dropped the knife and pushed it back to her. It left a nasty cut on my hand as I pushed it, but I had no other way to move it. I heard a stifled gasp escape from her that made me cringe again.
"S-Sorry," I mumbled. She didn't respond. I could hear the metal clink against the floor as she picked it up. I could feel the dull blade forced against the ropes. I could feel the frail hand behind the blade, too. I sighed. I could only lay there, helpless until the ropes fell victim to the blade.
After about five or so minutes, the ropes fell without warning. The sudden release had me crash to the floor, leaving nice bruises on my forearms and forehead. She didn't say much, she simply walked to my side and offered her hand. I rolled the chair off my back and accepted her offer. We were both weak, that was no lie. I glanced down at her ankle to see another cut, much like the one on my hand. Another scar, and this time it was certainly my fault.
"We should go see her," she told me. I couldn't understand why, but that burned me up. It felt like someone had lit a match and set it to burn in my soul. I wanted to leave. What good would seeing that...that thing do to help?
"It's a damned talking horse. What good would talking to it do?" I spat. She looked at me sternly, then at herself. She reminded me of the cuts and bruises that covered my body, as well as some of her own. She didn't even need to say anything, because of that look in her eyes that changed them from blue to a red fire.
"She's a nurse. Before we try and get out of this fantasy land, maybe we should at least be in good enough physical condition to travel," she chided. Time to go see Ponyville's only nurse, though what good would that do? That thing wouldn't know anything about human anatomy. Nevertheless, we still went for reasons only she could come up with. I dreaded the thought of seeing those horrific pastel-colored talking ponies. We were desperate, though. I had no choice. I followed her, my knees buckling a few times as we walked. How long had I been sitting in that chair, anyway? No matter. I cringed again as the door squeaked open and I saw a dim light in the next room. I had to duck under the low frame. It felt humiliating, like I was a mere pet.
As we walked into the light, I saw her and gasped. I knew she was dirty, but I didn't know to what extent. Her clothes had tears from top to bottom, and you could barely tell they had been colored in the past. Her shirt had permanent swear stains and clung to her ribs. Her legs had more scars than I knew, because of the rips in her pants. I gritted my teeth, walking forward as I ducked and swerved through the awkwardly made house. She looked back at me when we had finally made it to the front the house. "Are you ready?" I nodded and followed her out.
I fell to the floor as she pushed the door open. My pupils screamed in agony, even though the sun had almost set on this accursed land. "It's not that bad..." she whispered to me. Not that bad? Sure, if I was seven. A grown man didn't belong in some fantasy land of this. One of the creatures walked up to us. We must've looked almost as messed up as they did. Unfit humans hissing at the light of day, hair and body unkempt. I didn't even know what I looked like; I hadn't seen a single mirror in months. The creature smiled at me, thrusting a hoof in my direction.
"Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie. You look funny, but can we be friends?" her voice squeaked. I ignored it, going back following my mother. The pony-mutant followed us. "I've seen your blondie friend before, but not you! That must mean you don't have friends...aren't you lonely, mister?"
"I'm sorry, 'Pinkie', but in case you haven't noticed..." I growled hoarsely, staring her straight in the eye, "I'm not a damn seven-year-old, so stop treating me like one." Pinkie whimpered, tears forming in her eyes. She stuttered a bit, but what did I care? I wanted as little interaction with these things as possible. Though, this...pony, I suppose, was relentless.
"Where ya goin', buddy? We are buddies, right? I mean, I don't know your name...oh, and you're mad. Am I bothering you? You used those meanie words that Twilight would use when she messes up spells. Do you know Twilight? Hah! Who am I kidding? Who didn't even know me, let alone Twi! Use your noggin, Pinkie!" she tapped her head then giggled. I could swear I heard a snort or two tossed in there, too. I shook my head. Just follow the one human. That's my one goal, and then what?
We walked all the way to the clinic with the pony 'Pinkie' following us. Doesn't she have anything better to do with her time? I squatted down, my knees sticking out as I squished in the chairs. It felt like kindergarten. I pondered if standing would be better, but the my head would hit the ceiling. Either way, I wanted out. Pinkie sat down next to me. "I love love love doctor's visits! I don't really care for the shots, but she gives me sparkly stickers afterward!"
I had to sit through an eternity of Pinkie jabbering about whatever before my mother walked out with a white pony, supposably the nurse. Pinkie waved to me, yelling, "the shots might hurt, but remember the stickers! Go get 'em, new buddy!"