//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 - My Weakness // Story: No More Nightmares // by red_angel //------------------------------// Chapter 6 - My Weakness By: Red Angel I feel like I've been standing here for ages, hands gripped tightly around the polished wood of the cane, palms covered in sweat. Standing still in the same spot, legs stiff and sore, back aching. My mouth is dry and I keep holding each breath I take, listening to the silence, searching. My eyes dart back and forth, the sounds must have come from this room, I'm sure of it. Very close. I peer towards the couch across the room from me. Only possible hiding spot. Heart thumping in my chest, I lick my lips to moisten them, then swallow hard. A deep breath, eyes narrowing, fists clenching harder, preparing. "Is someone there?" I call out, trying to sound threatening, strong, but mostly comes off as nervous. My mouth is still too dry, making my voice weak. I hear a small, muffled yelp of surprise, so quiet I almost missed it if not for the silence of the room. "I know you're there, so come out!" For several seconds there is nothing, but then I hear movement from behind the couch, and then ever so slowly, a big mess of pink hair rises up behind it, followed by a pair of big, bright blue eyes. They are filled with a mix of trepidation and anticipation, watching me intently. Instantly my grip loosens and I lower my arms, my posture going more limp as I stare back, dumbfounded and a bit slack-jawed, my mind going blank for a second. "P- Pinkie?", I stutter quietly. We stare at each other in silence. I don't know what to make of this, like my mind can't really process what I am seeing, not entirely convinced it's not just playing tricks on my eyes again. But there she is, her eyes still looking at me, never deviating, hardly even blinking. I see her shudder and swallow hard as her head rises completely from behind the couch. She throws her forelegs stiffly up in the air, and a small cloud of confetti flies up and then proceeds to rain, pretty anticlimactically, down on the floor. Her mane is no longer straight like at the hospital, back to its poofy state, but it still lacks some of the life of her wild mane style. "S- s- surprise!" Her voice is shaky as she stutters out the word, only a shred of the usual enthusiasm present in it. She flashes a smile at me, but it is uncertain, almost apologetic, it is not the smile you would associate with Pinkie. In some strange way, seeing that kind of smile on her face hurts me even more than seeing her sad. It is not right, it's unnatural. And I know who is to blame... I lower my head and let out a sigh, something that's become quite the habit lately, as my shoulders slump even more. "Pinkie... What are you doing here?" I look back at her again, she has moved out from behind the couch and is now sitting next to it. Her smile falters, teeth clenched and eyes sorrowful. The corners of her mouth turn upwards again quickly, though her smile looks even less genuine with the sadness in her face. "It's your surprise homecoming party!", she proclaims loudly. Her voice is more chipper, but there is still something... Off about the way she says it. The party pony jumps up on all fours, forcing her grin wider before disappearing into the kitchen in a blur of pink. I blink a few times and just stare after her. Words fail me. I'm still feeling a little dizzy and lightheaded from my walk home, the confrontation with those pegasi and my little heart to heart with Sweetheart. Tired, that's a word I would use to describe me right now. Tired and confused. I shake my head as yet another sigh escapes me. Making my way after Pinkie, I leave my cane leaning against the wall as I walk through the doorway. She is standing in the far end of the room, one of her front hooves fidgeting nervously, and on the kitchen table... I freeze up. A cake. A simple, round cake; covered in a layer of whipped cream and icing forming borders the edges and letters spelling out "Welcome Home!". I stare at it for a while. I don't know what I'm feeling... There is... An emptiness in me. I glance between the cake and Pinkie. She is biting her lower lip and seem to be shrinking away, her fidgeting hoof now stroking along her other foreleg. Her eyes still hold some sort of hopeful anticipation, but there is also... Something else, something still off. Resting my eyes on the baked gift on the table, I feel my mind drifting, tugging at misty memories, small innocent things from happier times half-forgotten, the joy associated with them long gone; like looking at photos from someone else's life, understanding the happiness of their contents, but not sharing it. The feeling gone... Forever... "You don't like it..." Pinkie's voice startles me back to reality. I blink and look at her, a crestfallen look on her face and her body jerking slightly when our eyes meet. "What?", I mumble, my mind still returning from the edges of memory, before continuing more clearly, "What makes you say that?" She lifts one of her hooves from the floor and places it gently against her cheek, right bellow her eye. "You're crying..." I lift my hand up to my face, mimicking her as I touch the tips of my fingers against the skin, finding it slightly wet. I blink a few times then quickly start rubbing my cheeks and around my eyes with my sleeve to wipe the tears away. I clear my throat, only now becoming aware how thick it feels. What just happened? "I- I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you sad..." I lower my arm and look at Pinkie. She is sitting on her haunches, nervously twiddling her fore hooves around in front of her chest, her face dejected and sad. "I just- I just wanted to see you smile. Please don't be mad." She lowers her head and starts knocking one of her hooves against the top of it. "Ooh, I'm such a dummy-wumby silly-willy meanie-pants who just makes things worse! I'm-" "Pinkie." I try to say as softly as I can, but I can't stop myself from choking slightly from my recent tears, raising my hand, palm facing down, trying to gesture for her to stop and calm herself. She does stop and look up at me again, though the look she gives me... It's miserable, making my heart feel heavy. "It's not that, I just... I've just had a trying day and I'm a little bit woozy, that's all." Not quite the truth, but not a complete lie either. I just hope she buys it as she starts regarding the floor forlornly. "I'm sorry...", she half-whispers. "I just wanted to try and make you happy with a surprise party, like we used to..." When she looks up at me again with those sad eyes, it's like she's almost looking through me, like she's trying to catch a glimpse of something buried and hidden inside. "But I just end up making a mess of it..." I try to rack my brain into coming up with something to say, to stop her from punishing herself. "How did you know I would be out of the hospital today?" My question seems to shake her out of her funk, at least somewhat, as she looks at me quizzically for a moment, the edges of her mouth finally curving upwards slightly. She still looks a bit doleful, but it's a start. I notice how one of her hind legs is kicking slightly, giving the floor a series of rapid, anxious taps every now and then. "My Pinkie sense, of course." I should have suspected as much. If I had a thousand years to try and figure out her Pinkie sense, I would still be no closer to an answer. "Me and the girls, well, Twilight, Applejack and Rarity to be precise, cleaned the place up a few days ago, but I thought everypony else was probably super-busy today, so I thought that I-" "Wait...", I interrupt her, a sudden realization striking me. I quickly look around the kitchen and back out the living room. It never even occurred to me... "Are you here alone?" Her eyes widen slightly, a huge, nervous smile on her face. Her fidgeting hooves pick up speed, becoming more anxious and for just a moment, I see it again; that slightly off look in her eyes, something desperately hidden. It was fleeting, but I saw it, I saw... something. "Oh, yeah..." She chuckles awkwardly. "What's wrong with that? Why wouldn't I be? I'm just throwing a little surprise party for my friend Anon, after all. I mean, I know you said we weren't friends anymore, but that's just silly talk. Right?" The look she gives me, pleading and hopeful, makes me feel like I was just jabbed in the heart with a hot fire poker, burning and stinging me at the same time. "There's no reason to stop being friends. Even after everything that's happened, I don't see why I can't be here... Alone... With you..." She gulps but quickly tries to hide it by confidently straightening herself, her efforts hampered by the same nervous smile still on her lips. "Nothing wrong, no-sir-roonie, I'm completely-" I can't take it anymore. I once more gesture for her to stop. Seeing her doing this to herself, I can't bare it. She shouldn't be here. "Pinkie..." I say with a tired sigh. "You don't need to do this. Maybe it would be better if you just-" "No!" She cuts me off with such desperation that it actually startles me. We stare at each other, eyes wide and my mouth slightly agape. She is breathing irregularly, with a slightly wild and panicky look in her eye. Finally she seems to snap out of it as she looks around the room before resting her eyes back on me again. "Please, let me try to help, Anon. Please." I collect myself, realizing that I'm holding my breath and finally releasing it. I meet her gaze, simultaneously wishing her to go and stay at the same time, but I know which one I should choose. "Pinkie-" "We could play games! Got any good games around, Anon? I could go and get some!" She interrupts me again. "Pinkie." "Oh, silly me!" She smacks her hoof across her forehead, giving me a goofy smile, though the stress is clearly visible in her eyes. Why does she keep doing this to herself? "Games can wait. We should be eating cake! I'll get the plates and glasses, you just sit your keister down, Anon. Got anything to drink? Ah, I'll find something, don't worry!" She shoots off in rapid succession as she turns around towards the cupboards on my wall, facing away from me. I give up. I release a very long sigh, suddenly feeling even more tired with the realization that I wouldn't get through to her. I look over to the cake sitting on the table. I don't know why, but something about it bothers me. I resign myself to the thought that I'll have to indulge her for the moment. Hopefully she will calm down and I can make her see reason, she shouldn't be torturing herself, not over me. I glance at Pinkie, she is standing on her hind legs, leaning against the counter as she reaches a hoof for the door to one on the cupboards, opening it up to reveal a handful of glasses of different designs; to my surprise, they are clean, a far stretch from the grizzly state I had left them, littered around the house. Looking back at the cake, I silently tell myself to just bite the bullet and get it over with. I start to approach the table, a floorboard giving away slightly under my foot, creating an audible creak. "NO!" Pinkie suddenly shrieks, her voice full of panic. She spins around, a glass she was reaching for getting knocked over the ledge, tumbling down and shattering against the floor. I freeze, staring in shock at the pink mare. Her whole body is trembling fiercely, her posture low, mouth agape and her tail tucked tightly between her legs. I stare into her eyes, and as they stare back at me, I see it. I see what she has been trying to hide, what has been lying just under the surface, barely concealed. Her eyes are wide as saucers, tears forming in the corners, her pupils dilated and beads of sweat forming along her brow. I recognize the emotion that is now radiating from every part of her body, I have seen it so many times. Fear. She is afraid. Terrified. Every fiber of her screaming for her to flee, away from the source of her fear. From me. Instantly, I feel like I've just been hit in the chest by a freight train, my body turns cold and I can feel my eyes watering as my mind scrambles desperately for something, anything. I raise my hands and take a step back. No no no no. Don't look at me like that. Please, don't look at me like that. "I- I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I wasn't-" I stutter fruitlessly, taking another step back. My eyes are stinging. "I wan't trying to... I swear! Please, Pinkie... I... I..." I finally feel fresh tears stain my cheeks, my voice hitching as my breath becomes uneven and heavy. I wasn't trying to... I wasn't! Images race through my mind; a pink mare, leaning down, back turned to me, she doesn't expect what's coming, she trusts me, I grab her and I... Crying... Begging... No! Not me. Not me. Not my fault. I'm sorry. Pinkie blinks her eyes a few times, her own tears breaking free, trailing down along the sides of her face. Slowly, her face goes from one of terror to sorrow. Her lower lip begins to tremble as she falls down on her haunches and like a deflated balloon, her hair goes straight once again, even her coloring seems to go a shade darker. She brings her hooves up to her face, burying it in them as she starts weeping and sobbing, her whole body shuddering. "No... No..." She speaks with a trembling voice between whimpers and sniffles. "I didn't mean to! You're not It! You're my friend! Friends should trust and help each other!" She practically wails. I back up until my back is against the wall, covering my mouth with one of my hands as I try to fight against the tears. She lowers her hooves to the ground and raise her head, her eyes closed shut and her face wet. "I'm- I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry! I just wanted you to be happy again! Why can't I make you happy? Why can't it ever end?" Her wailing gradually lowers in strength, until she is just sniffing and whimpering, staring down at the floor as she futilely tries to wipe the tears from her face, only to be replaced by new ones. I lower my arm back down, taking deep breaths, steadily regaining my composure. I look down at the heartbroken mare in front of me, a shadow of her former self. This can't go on. "Pinkie..." I begin, she doesn't lift her head to look at me. "Some things just can't be fixed..." "It has to..." She finally speaks up, barely a whisper. "It just has to." "Listen to me-" "Please..." She whimpers, finally looking up to face me, her eyes puffy and pink. "Please don't say things like that. There has to be some way. I try and try but I just go round and round in circles in my head until it hurts." She grips her head in her hooves and closes her eyes, her face contorting into a frown of concentration. "I want to fix it, but I can't. You're sad so I want to cheer you up, but you just become more sad so I try harder. But it just makes things worse, because I make you sad. Because I'm sad. So I'll become happy by making you happy, but it doesn't work. I just become more sad, and it goes on and on and on. Trying to be happy, become sad, because you're sad, because I'm sad, because you hurt me sooo much and then I have nightmares about you and..." She stops, going completely silent. Her eyes burst open and she lets go of her head, staring up at my face with her mouth open in shock. I meet her eyes. Her words cut into my heart, but she has no idea how deep that cut was and now I just feel... numb. My shoulders slump, arms hanging limply. No more tears come, I do not have the strength. I try to look unfazed by her words, but looking into her eyes I know that she sees it. Few creatures are as empathetic as her. "Anon..." Her words are shaky, regretful. "I'm sorry... I- I didn't mean..." I turn my gaze to the side, focusing on the floorboards, not being able to meet her eyes anymore. "Please, tell the others I'm thankful for what they've done with my home..." I take a deep breath through my nose while trying to swallow down the hard lump in my throat. "But none of you needn't have bothered yourselves..." She doesn't say anything but I can feel her eyes on me. I don't meet them, forcing my gaze down. The finality in my voice had told, in no uncertain terms, that this conversation was over. There is a long silence that seems to go on forever. I clench my jaw, begging silently that this is the end of it, because I don't know how much more I can take. Finally I hear her hooves, slow and heavy, making their way past me into the living room and towards the still ajar front door, the only other sound being her quiet sniffles. I glance at the cake on the table. There is still something about it that rubs me the wrong way, but I can't find the words to describe it. It just a cake, why does it bother me so? I'm pulled from my thoughts when I realize that I haven't heard the front door close. Straightening myself up from the wall, I step into the living room, my legs feeling like they had lead weights tied to them. Pinkie is standing in the front doorway, looking out at the street outside. When she hears my footsteps coming to a stop, she turns her head and looks at me. Her face has a serious expression on it, her eyes still have some tears in them and there is a small frown on her still lightly quivering lips. "It wasn't a bother to us." She says solemnly, and with that, she walks out the door, closing it behind her. As she does, I reach out with my hand, but I don't say anything. I don't even know what I was going to say, or why. Dejectedly, I let out another sigh and opt to shove my hands inside the pockets of my trousers instead. Before I get the chance to start kicking myself over my behavior again, I feel my fingers brush against something in one of the pockets. Pulling my hands back out, in one of them I am now holding a small, folded slip of paper between my fingers. How did that get there? When? I unfold it and bring it up to my face. A message is written on it in ink, the letters an elegant cursive forming four short words and a signature. Please come see me. ~Rarity I scan my eyes over the writing a second time, then a third time. By the forth time, the words finally seem to sink in and a cold shudder travels down my spine. She must have placed it in the pocket right before dropping the clothes off at the hospital. But why? Why would she of all ponies want to see me? I don't understand her. What is this game she's playing? I close my hand, the note crumpling in the palm of my grip. Would going really help in any way? No, I think I will spare myself from any more heartache for today. I feel very tired. Everything hurts, and not just physically. I open my hand again, letting the crumpled paper fall to the floor and just stare at it for a few seconds. In the corner of my eye, I spot something laying on the surface of a small end table along the wall closest to me. A simple key, probably for my new front door, laid out for me to find, I guess. Something more perplexing is that on the wall above it, there hangs a mirror, one I hadn't owned before, unbroken unlike all the ones I had smashed in this house. I stare at my reflection, and I do not recognize the man that's looking back. Gaunt, almost skeletal face. Sunken, bloodshot eyes, dark rings around them, tired and lifeless. Pale as death. A mess of hair on my head and along my jaw, unwashed and wild. My whole body lanky, shoulders and arms slumped as if pulled down by weights. A broken man. I hardly take notice of the small scar now adorning my left cheek as I stare deep into those eyes, looking for something familiar, a trace of the man I used to be, not this half dead stranger. I find only anger and disgust. Who are you? I look away, scanning the room around me. My eyes fall on the crack in the floorboards, curved into the rough shape of a hoof. I walk over to it, studying it. From this angle, I can make out darker patches along this area of the floor, stains that have been scrubbed away yet left a permanent mark. This is the spot. I am lying on the floor. Hooves buried into my chest. My face is struck, again and again. I taste blood. I hear screaming, full of anger, seeking vengeance. I do not struggle. Through the mist of pain and regrets, I feel something I have longed for, drifting closer. Peace. A dizziness comes over me, the entire room spinning, my stomach feeling like it's doing the same. I become aware that I'm starting to look at the ceiling. I brace myself and fight against the vertigo, just barely managing to right myself before I fall backwards. My spine is burning from the inside. Staggering, I stumble my way towards the couch and flop down into it. I lean back and just sit there, staring up into the ceiling. Home, sweet home... Despite my exhaustion, my mind keeps going over the last few weeks. Seeing everyone again, all the tears, the resurfacing pains, the promises, the moments I've almost started to dare hope, only for it to just come crashing down each and every time, like a castle of sand being brought down by the ocean waves. Stumbling in darkness, with the light just out of reach, always too far. I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions, one to salvation, the other to damnation, and I don't know which one is which. So tired... Can't even move... Feels like it's getting darker... But it can't be much past noon... Why is it getting darker? The ceiling is almost completely black, the shadows... They are... Moving? A dark patch, like a growing burn mark in the wood, is spreading out from above me, scorching my ceiling pitch black. I hear a quiet chorus of gasps, slowly growing into pained moans. I open my mouth, but no sound escapes. It's hard to breathe, like there's hardly any air, my lungs feel like they are on fire. Drops of dark liquid are starting to form in the blackness, slowly building until they break off, one by one in slow succession, falling in thick drops... Like blood. I feel one land on my forehead, it is cold as ice, running down the side of my face. I try to stand up, but something is preventing me. A firm grip across my shoulders. Leaning over me, I see the face of the one holding me down. I see my face... How I used to look. There is a smile on his lips, my lips, cold and cruel. Above us, more of the vicious fluid is forming, being pulled across the ceiling, gathering right over my head. I can do nothing but stare in wide eyed fear as the dark pool starts to boil and stretch, growing and reaching down like a black stalactite. Drawing closer towards me, I try to scream, but I am silent, drops pouring from the horror, landing on my face and in my mouth, choking me. It writhes and changes shape, becoming almost humanoid in form, yet twisted and nightmarish. It reaches its clawed hands towards me, the grin on my other self just growing wider and more sadistic. I close my eyes and scream. "No!" I throw myself forward from the back of the couch, sitting upright. I am panting hard. I stare up at the ceiling, expecting the horror to still be there, but there is nothing. No black fluid, no horrible creature, nothing. My eyes dart back and forth, looking for any trace of what just happened. No drops on the floor, no other me. Did I fall asleep? Was it all just a dream? I bury my face in my hands, rubbing it. It is drenched in sweat. I climb out of the couch, pulling the sweater off and dropping it on the ground then proceed to stumble towards the bathroom. Pain and exhaustion giving way to adrenaline. I find that the bathroom has also been cleaned, no longer looking like the nightmare it used to, but there was still a faint smell of mold in the air. It is a small room, just barely fitting a toilet, a simple shower and a sink with a cabinet above it, the shattered mirror on it having been replaced with a new one, its flawless surface still clean and polished. I throw myself over the sink, fumbling with the faucet until water starts flowing out of it. I cup my hands under the stream, ice cold water gathering in my palms, before splashing it over my face. I repeat the process two more times before resting my hands along the edge of the sink, leaving the faucet on, leaning over and just standing there, trying to catch my breath, water dripping from my face. What the hell is going on? Why won't these nightmares just stop? I rub down my face with my hand, holding it in place over my mouth as I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose, getting a fresh whiff of the moldy air emanating from somewhere in the room. I lower my hand and finally turn the faucet off. I lean against the sink a little while longer before letting go and standing upright. I come face to face again with the stranger in the mirror. I turn my face from side to side, studying the miserable sight before me. I look horrible, there is no way around that. Running my fingers through the scraggly mess that's grown on my face, I feel along the edge of my jaw hidden under it. I scratch it then run my fingers through the hairs some more, before removing my hand and just scrutinize it through the mirror instead. Don't know how long I just stand there staring, but eventually I reach out and open the cabinet and pull out a pair of scissors, a can of shaving cream and a razor, the old kind that looks like a knife. Straight razor, I think they're called. Don't know what's come over me, or why I should suddenly care about it, maybe I'm just restless or I'm just trying to get my mind off of that nightmare, but I just feel like keeping myself occupied, a need to do something. I close the cabinet, stopping to stare at my face one more time, then get to work. Starting with the scissor, I begin cutting off patches of my beard, accidentally getting snippets of my long hair a few times in the process, but I don't care, it can't really look any worse than it already does. When I feel like the amount left can be shaved off easily, I place the scissors down on the edge of the sink and pick up the can of shaving cream, dispensing a generous amount of foam in my hand, then lather it across my jaw, cheeks, upper lip and finally on my throat. Rinsing the last of the cream from my hands with water, I reach for the razor. I let my fingers slide over the handle, taking in the smoothness of it as I slowly take it in my grip, lifting it up next to my face. I consider myself and the razor in the mirror for a while. I do not know why. My mind is oddly calm. I feel along the edge of the razor with my thumb. Still sharp, enough to get the job done at least. Gently, I start stroking the blade over my upper lip, easily cutting the hairs there, then across my cheek down to my jaw. I do it slowly, meticulously, making sure I get everything. Finally, I'm down to my neck, shaving away the last strands. I wash the foam away from the blade and splash some water on my face as well, then bring the razor up again, searching for any missed spots. I stop. Looking at myself in the mirror again, the beard and shaving cream now gone, I could not say if it was an improvement or not. Though I look less messy, my face seems even more gaunt without the additional mass. I still cannot recognize myself. My mind seems to drift away as I look at the face in the mirror. This is not my face. I am not this sickly, pathetic thing I'm looking at. That broken look, the deathly complexion. I hate it. The light shimmers across the sharp blade of the razor still in my grasp and I feel a sting in my neck. I blink, staring into the smooth reflection of the mirror. The tip of the razors edge is pressed against the side of my throat, a small tickle of blood dripping down and staining the collar of my shirt red. I pull my hand away, dropping the razor. It falls into the sink, clattering against the ceramic. I'm panting hard again as I stare at myself. What had happened? I look at the small cut, down at the razor then finally my face again. What is happening? Why does this happen to me? It's your fault! This is all because of you! I grit my teeth, my hands clenching into fists, arms trembling at my sides. I look into my own eyes, and all I see is a broken man. An outcast. A monster. I stand in a barn, a library, a forest, a bedroom, a classroom... A cave... In all of them, a mare lies at my feet, helpless, crying. I laugh at them. I revel in their pain. Loving every depraved minute. I'm enjoying this. With a roar, I ram my fist into the mirror, the surface cracking and shattering into dozens of pieces, smashing into even more as they break against the sink and floor. I let my arm fall limply to my side as I lean back against the opposite wall, staring at the broken shards still sitting in the frame, my reflection jagged and distorted. It was like the window back at the hospital... My mind had gone blank, like my body was operating on its own, and I was just drifting along. What the hell- My thoughts are interrupted as I become aware of a stinging pain in my hand, making me flinch and hiss painfully through gritted teeth. I raise my hand to my chest, gripping the wrist with my other hand as I look over it. My knuckles are bruised and red, and a long shard is embedded under the skin just over two of my knuckles, blood pouring from the wound, turning my hand a deep crimson. At first I'm too shocked to act, just staring at the reflective shard protruding from my hand, before the pain shakes me out of it. I grunt and groan, but manage to stop from outright screaming. I let go of my shaking, blood-soaked hand, then I carefully grab the shard. Another painful wave travels up my arm, making me yelp and release my grip before gritting my teeth. Let's try that again... I grab the shard one more time. This is going to suck. I'm breathing quickly through my nose, mentally preparing myself. This is really going to suck like all hell. My jaw and my eyes clenched tightly, I take one final, big breath through my nose and hold it. With a hard jerk of my arm, I rip the shard out my hand. A short but loud scream escapes me and I let the shard fall out of my hand, down to the floor, and I clutch my fingers around my wounded hand. I breathe deeply, trying not to think about the pain, grunting with every breath. Yes, definitely sucked. I pry one of my eyes open and look over the wound. There's a lot of blood. I turn the faucet on again, cleaning my hand in the cold water, gritting my teeth hard as it pours over my wound. I then open the cabinet again. Grabbing a roll of gauze I dress my hand. The first few layers quickly gain a deep red patch over my knuckles, but stops spreading once I've finished. I lean back against the wall again, completely spent. My heart and my pulse is beating wildly. I stare up at the ceiling, slowing down my breathing, trying to calm down, then look down at my freshly bandaged hand. The panic and adrenaline ebbing, a quiet chuckle rises from my throat. It soon grows into uncontrolled giggling, and finally full blown laughter, throwing my head back as I just continue to laugh and laugh. My throat feels dry. Together with the sadness and desperation of my laughter it sounds horrible, almost like a wail. As I calm down, and my laughter dies down into trembling breaths, my throat feels like it's bleeding. It reminds me of the cut I've given myself. Using the remaining shards of the mirror, I look it over and see that the bleeding has stopped by itself, the cut too small to sustain it. Taking a handful of water I clean away the blood trailing down my neck. I don't want to be in this room anymore. Need to breathe. I stumble back to the living room, the air feeling more clearer to me already. This house... This damn house... Hardly an hour in here and I already feel like I'm going insane. More than I already am, I mean. I need to get out. Even the streets are better than this. But I can't just wander around aimlessly... The ponies will take notice... I'll just scare them... But where do I... I pause. Turning my head, my eyes fall onto the crumpled slip of paper on the floor. I stare at it for a few seconds, then a few seconds more. I swallow hard and finally walk over to it, leaning down awkwardly, my body feeling as stiff as dry wood, and I snatch the paper up in my fingers. Folding it out and straightening it as best I can, I scan over the ink on it again. Please come see me. There is a painful knot in my stomach. My mind is debating to and fro. Should I? I can't really see this ending well... My eyes drift to the bandages around my hand. With a tired sigh I walk over to the end table, placing the note down on it and grabbing the key, stashing it in one of my pockets, making sure to never once look at my reflection in the mirror. That thing is coming down as soon as I get back. You'd think that while cleaning up a house, that finding smashed mirrors around would make you wonder, that just maybe the owner didn't like having mirrors around. I quickly replace my bloodstained shirt with a clean one. I also grab a dark hoodie, putting it on and zipping up the front. As I make my way over to my cane, still leaning against the wall, I spot Pinkie's cake through the kitchen door. I stop and look at it for a while. Her face appearing in my mind, the sadness in it. I really wish you could help me Pinkie... I could really use a smile right now. I take a deep breath, grab my cane in my hand and make my way to the front door, stopping in front of it. Another deep breath, placing my hand around the doorknob. This is a mistake. I turn the knob and open the door, stepping out into the streets. The skies are darker now, no sunlight penetrating the dark clouds. The air feels humid and cold. My guess, it will probably rain soon. Fantastic... A cold wind sweeps across me, making my body shudder. I'm already starting to regret this. There are more ponies walking around than before, but I've keept to the less busy streets and alleyways, it's a bit of the long way around, but preferable to any big crowds. The ones I do meet have similar reactions to me as my trek from the hospital, going quiet and staring. I just try to walk past as fast as I can, half crippled as I am, hobbling with cane in hand. My eyes hardly ever leave the ground. It helps somewhat to not look at their faces. Sometimes, I can hear part of their whispers as I pass them by. "Look, it's him." "... back from the hospital..." "... looks so sickly now..." "... just horrible..." "... stay away from him, honey..." "... better keep our distance..." "... still looks scary..." "... almost started to think he was gone..." I try not to think about what they're saying. Just keep walking. My legs are almost moving on auto pilot as I try to occupy my mind with anything but the ponies' voices, numbing myself to everything around me. Halfway there... I'll just go see her, hear what she wants, then leave... No problem... The cut on my hand keeps itching and I absentmindedly scratch it from time to time before I can catch myself. The images keep flashing through my mind. The mirror, the razor in my hand, the blood. Goosebumps spread across my arms. What was I doing? "Anon?" Was it just an accident because I was standing there daydreaming? Or was I actually going to... The grip on my cane tightens slightly. What is wrong with me? Twice now, I've lost control and almost paid for it. Like a marionette, being pulled by the strings... Like I was controlled... But that- "Anon?" My body jerks as I hear someone call my name from behind, startling me and pulling me from my thoughts. Stopping, I turn and look around. A few meters away, I see an orange earth pony galloping towards me, her green eyes look tired, with dark rings under them, and her long, blond mane under her stetson hat is unusually unkempt. Applejack? What has happened to you? She looks like she has hardly slept for days. Approaching me, she slows down, before coming to a stop. She is keeping her distance from me. It makes my heart sting. I thought that she... "H- hey there, Anon." She gives me an awkward smile. She sounds winded. That little sprint couldn't have possible tired her out. Also, her eyes keep darting away from me, like she can't look me in the eye for long, and her ears are slightly angled back. "Glad to see ya out of the hospital. Heh, ah see ya've also gotten rid of the beard, finally." Her eyes land on my injured hand, a surprised look on her face. "What happened to yer hand? Rainbow didn't come after ya again, did she? Nopony's hardly seen, much less talked to her since... well... ya know." She trails off. No one's seen her? Not even her friends? That's a bit worrisome. Even though I don't relish the thought of seeing her again after last time, I hate the idea of her becoming isolated, especially if it's because of me... "No. No, it was just an accident... It's not as bad as it looks." I instinctively hide my hand partially behind me. She looks at me a bit incredulously before averting her eyes again. What's going on with her? She seems... Nervous? Was all she said about trying to overcome her fears just... Lies? No. Applejack wouldn't do that. So what's bothering her? "How are you doing, Applejack? You're looking a little... worn out." One of her ears twitches and she looks up at me quizzically for a second, before giving me a smile that I guess is supposed to look confident, but comes of as anything but. "Aw, it's nothin', Anon. Just a little restless last night is all. Lots of work to be done during fall, 'fore winter comes and all that. You know?" She gives me an awkward chuckle and averts her eyes again. She's hiding something. True, fall tends to be a busy time for the Apple family, but it's still summer, that shouldn't be an issue for more than a month from now. "So... Where are ya headed too? Have ta say, didn't expect to see you walking down the street so far from yer home." And now she's changing the subject. What is really bothering her? Not wishing to pry, though, I decide to drop it. "I'm actually heading over to Rarity." Her ears perk up at that, even making her meet my eyes, one of her eyebrows raised. "Really?" There is surprise in her voice, sprinkled with a bit of skepticism. "Yer going to see Rarity?" Her entire face suddenly lights up, a jubilant smile adorning it. "Does this mean that ya've changed yer mind? Yer finally goin' to let yer friends help ya?" She almost cheers. "Ah knew ya would come around eventually! Whoo - wee, ya had me going scared there for awhile, Anon! This is just-" "Whoa!" I take a step back and wave my hand in front of me, cutting her off. "Applejack. No. I'm not... I mean I'm..." I trail off when I see her face fall, ears drooping and looking at me in disbelief. Seeing the joyous relief quickly fade away from her makes my heart sink into my gut. I scratch the back of my neck, feeling like a real ass. "She left me a note, asking me to see her. So that's what I'm doing, nothing more. I don't... I mean, I still..." "Yer still... shutting us out..." She slowly lowers her eyes to the ground, a faraway gaze, staring into nothing, her face still expressing shock. I shift awkwardly and bite my lower lip, a feeling of unease rising inside of me. "Yer just quitting... Giving up..." Her words are quiet, almost emotionless, yet I can see hints of tears in the corners of her eyes. She doesn't blink, she just keeps staring blankly. "I'm sorry..." I mumble out. I wasn't expecting her to react like this. Her eyebrows furrow into a scowl, but she still doesn't lift her eyes to look at me. I take another cautious step back, nervousness building. "I just can't do it..." There is a slight trembling in my words. Applejack shuts her eyes tight, her jaw tightening. I can see her teeth grinding against each other through her parted lips. I look away and study the ground beside me. "Applejack... I..." "Coward..." My eyes snap back to her, the coldness in her voice turning the blood in my veins to ice. Her eyes are open again, staring right up at me in indignant anger. I swallow hard. "Yer just going to lie down and die? You coward..." She raises her head, the tears in her eyes threatening to overflow. I can't meet her intense gaze anymore I lower my eyes down to the ground. I haven't seen her so angry since... those days. "I... I just can't do it... I'm sor-" "Ya can try!" She hollers at me, slamming her hoof into the ground. Startled, I quickly raise my eyes to look at her again. A few tears have found their way down her cheeks. "Ya can't just give up like it's nothing! This isn't just about you! Ya need to face this! We need to!" She grits her teeth again and we just stand there in silence for a while. I meekly meet her glare as she just waits for me to say something. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the quiet rumbling of thunder. I try to find something to hold onto in my mind, to find the strength in me that she's looking for. I study the ground again, then back at her, my shoulders slumping and my face conveying nothing but sadness. "You're right..." Her face softens somewhat, but keeping her glare on me, cautiously waiting for me to continue. "I am a coward..." Her jaw falls slightly in surprise. I take a few heavy steps back, away from her. "And I'm sorry... But I have to go..." I can't give her the answer she wants, and I can't face her any longer. I take a few more steps back. She stares at me, disbelief and anger written on her face. "No... No, it can't just end like this! We've fought too hard for this! Ah've fought too hard for this! Anon?" She shouts at me as I keep backing away, the sadness in my face never changing. After a few more steps, I turn around, continuing down the path I had been on. "Anon! Don't you turn yer back on me! Anon!" I don't answer, just keep on walking. "Dang it, Anon! Ya can't just walk away! Not after everything that's happened! After everything we've been through!" Don't answer, just don't say anything. Just keep walking. "YOU OWE US!" I stop dead in my tracks, her voice echoing between the buildings. I stare, unblinking, at the dirt path. Her words causes something to click in my head, a rush of thoughts, a sudden clearness. Of course... This is what all this has really been about all along... It was not about helping me... It was about helping themselves... To ease their pain, their guilt. Of the pain I have endured recently, nothing has been so cruel as this coldness I now feel inside of me. Of course... It is so obvious to me now. Slowly, I turn to look back at her. She is just standing there, the same glare in her teary eyes, legs wide in an aggressive stance, her chest heaving as she pants hard in her anger, teeth gritted behind quivering lips. I meet her gaze with one of sadness and hurt. "Thank you..." My voice is heavy and lifeless. Confusion mixes with the anger on her face. "... for finally being honest with me..." As soon as the words leave my mouth, it's like they jabbed her in her heart. The anger washes right of her face, being replaced with sadness and horror, jaw hanging limp and eyes wide. Another distant rumble in the air. I look at her for a while, her jaw moves up and down as she tries to say something, words failing her, her ears pressed against her head. I turn back around and start walking away. "Anon! Wait! Ah was just... Ah didn't mean... Please, wait! Anon! Don't go!" Her voice, full of regret and desperation, fades as I continue down the path. I don't stop. I don't answer. I don't look at her. And despite her pleading, she doesn't follow me. Eventually I block her voice out, until I am too far away to hear her anymore. My body feels so numb, I don't even react to the cold winds anymore. I just keep walking. So... I'm finally here. Don't really know why. If the rest of the day has been any indication, it's that this will go terribly wrong. After Applejack... Just thinking about it puts my heart in a icy grip... I just wanted to get away as fast as I could, but now when I'm standing here, I almost wished I was back in my house instead. Many times I thought about just turning around and head back, but I didn't want to risk running into Applejack again... So, here I am. I raise my head and scan my eyes over the building I am standing in front of. The cylindrical shape of its walls, richly colored in purples, whites, and blues. The yellow curtains in the windows. The pony statuettes along the seconds floor. Truly there is no other building like this anywhere, as unique as its owner. Carousel Boutique. I lower my eyes, resting on the door. I've been staring at it for about a minute or two now, debating with myself. Should I really go through with this? Nothing tells me that this is a good idea. But I'm already here... Should I just turn around and leave now? Don't really see why not... Whatever I'm going to do, better decide on it soon. I think the ponies passing by are starting to wonder what I'm up to... Don't need to give them any more reasons to- Something small lands on my shoulder with a quiet tap, stirring me from my thoughts. Glancing over, I notice a tiny wet spot on my hoodie. Another one appears right next to it, quickly followed by the sounds of quiet pitter-patter as the first drops of rain start falling. Great... I groan to myself and look at the door again. Seems the decision is taken out of my hand... Again. Unless I'm willing to hobble trough the rain, getting completely drenched. I start to reach for the door, but stop. There is still an uneasiness in me about this. Even if she did ask me to come, I hesitate, dreading meeting her. How will she react when she sees me in her store... The last time I was here... I had broken in during the night, hoping to find some way to fix my clothes, which had been steadily more damaged during the guards manhunt for me... But I was discovered... She confronted me... And I almost... I think my heart just tried to jump out my throat. I can't just walk in... At least not without giving her some warning. I ball my hand into a fist, bringing it to the door, letting it hang for a few seconds in order to take a steadying breath, then knock against the wooden surface. "Come iiin!" I hear her call out in a chipper sing-song voice from the other side of the door. "The boutique is open, dear. No need to knock." The welcome did not make me any less nervous. She probably doesn't know who was knocking. An extra warning to prepare her. "Rarity?" I call out, loud enough to make sure she will recognize my voice. "It's me." There is a long silence, the dripping of tiny raindrops the only sound. Maybe she didn't hear me? Maybe she did... I start thinking if maybe I should just leave anyway or try again, but then I hear the distinct sound of magic on the other side, then the door gently swings open. Nobody is in the doorway to greet me, but it's as good an invitation as any. Steeling myself, I hunch down and step inside the building. It is as elegant and pristine as I remember it, though I can't say that I have any fond memories of this place, seeing how I and its owner have not had the most amicable of acquaintances. The pony in question is standing further in the main room. She is facing me and... Smiling? It is a small, polite smile, one I can't quite read what it means, but it seems genuine. Genuine of what though, I couldn't say. She gracefully trots closer to me, stopping just shy of two meters away. "Ah, Anonymous. I assume you found my letter?" She is keeping her eyes steady on me. It makes my skin crawl. I'm not used to seeing her act like this. I blink when I realize I'm just staring dumbfounded at her, though she shows no signs of noticing or being bothered by it. "Um... Yeah..." I mumble before awkwardly clearing my throat. "You wanted to see me?" When I ask the question, it sounds a bit incredulous, like I had a hard time actually believing it. "Yes, I thought we could have a little talk, as it were." She turns around and walk further into to room, over to a corner with a coffee table, in a deep redwood color, standing on the floor, covered with a white cloth, embroidered with swirling patterns, a red fainting couch and a pair matching cushioned chairs placed around, as well as a few sitting cushions on the floor, and a very expensive looking carpet underneath it all. Beside the couch stands a trolley, a silver platter with an elegant tea set placed on it. Once there, she turns to look at me again, motioning towards one of the chairs with her hoof. "Alright?" I don't know where this is going, but I close the door behind me, placing the cane against the wall next to it and make my way over to her. "By the way, Anon." I can't stop a shudder from traveling down my spine from hearing her call me that. "It is wonderful that you have removed that ghastly thing from your face. It is... An improvement. Now, if only we could do something about that mess of a mane on your head." Once I reach the chair, I make sure to keep my distance from her, so as not to upset her... or me. I pull it away from the table to give myself a little more legroom before squatting awkwardly down into the seat. Chairs for ponies are not the most comfortable for those of us that walk on two legs. "Thanks... And thank you for dropping off my clothes at the hospital, and the cane." I fidget around in the chair. This is... incredibly awkward. "Don't mention it." She answers rather curtly, but no emotion betrays her thoughts through her face, maintaining her little smile as she regards me with her sapphire eyes. I shrink in my seat, and not being able to meet her look, I avert my face to the side. I had hoped she would elaborate on why she had done it. I then hear her give a small gasp. "Anon, your neck... Did you cut yourself?" I turn my gaze back at her, her face showing genuine concern, surprising me. In reflex, I raise my hand to cover the dried cut on the side of my throat. "And your hand! What happened?" I realize too soon which hand I had lifted, lowering it to my chest and gripping it in my other hand, trying to hide the bandages covering it. The way she acts... Either she's become a better actor... or she's genuinely worried. "A shaving accident." I answer quickly without really thinking. She raises an eyebrow at me with a questioning look on her face. "It's pretty stupid, you don't need to worry about it." She regards my face skeptically for a moment, then glances down at my hands. Following her eyes, I find that I am absentmindedly scratching my wound. I quickly let go of my hands, placing them in my lap instead. "If you say so." She says, sounding pretty unconvinced, but apparently deciding to not pursue it. "Would you like some tea while we talk?" The question catches me a bit off guard. My mind almost suffering a little whiplash from the mood change. I blink at her. That polite smile is back on her lips again. "Uh... N- no, thank you." "Are you sure?" She turns towards the tea set beside her. "It's freshly brewed, and the tea is of a quite exquisite make, with a lovely mix of-" "Rarity." I say flatly, making her turn to face me again, though I don't meet her eyes, looking at the carpet instead. We may not know each other that well, but I can recognize that she is dancing around the issue. "Why did you really ask me to come?" Finally lifting my gaze to look at her, I find that she is nervously biting her lip, her usual air of confidence and elegance gone. It's actually a little unsettling to look at. It is her time to scan the carpet under her hooves this time, drawing a little circle in it with one of her hooves. With a sigh, she walks over and, to my surprise, doesn't take a seat on the couch, opting instead to prop herself down on one of the cushions on the floor. She looks at me with mournful eyes, making my heart jump. "I have been doing some thinking these last two weeks," she starts, scanning the table with her eyes, "a lot of thinking, actually. About me... And you." She looks me right in the eyes again, but this time, I don't flinch or shudder. Something about the sadness in those eyes calms my anxieties. "I tried distracting myself from my thoughts, ignoring them, but I couldn't. Not that Applejack would let me." She chuckles quietly to herself before continuing, a melancholy smile on her face. "You know, she has been raising quite the storm in town since we visited you at the hospital." "Really?" I cringe a little inside when I think about that day. Watching them all leave in tears, despite believing it to have been for the best, it was still hard to think about. The unicorn fashionista chuckles once more. "Oh yes, she has been quite vocal about her support for you. Coming to your defense, proclaiming your innocence. Caused more than one argument that almost ended ugly. Poor thing, she has almost been running herself ragged." That lump in my chest is back again. Is that what she has been doing all this time? But then... Was I wrong about her? Or was this maybe just another way for her to try and ease her own guilt. And what does this have to do with Rarity inviting me over? I just look at her in silence, waiting for her to continue. "Anon..." Her voice falter slightly and she swallows, our eyes meeting again as her smile fades away, leaving behind a look of regret. "I have been terrible to you." That sentence makes me blink and stare at her, dumbfounded. "I've treated you like dirt, and that was wrong of me. I've taken my anger out on you, when you were not the one to blame. I am sorry." I keep staring at her, slack-jawed, expecting to wake up. I must be dreaming, right? No... Nothing good ever happens in my dreams... This is real. The Rarity sitting before me, she is real and this is happening. I try to say something, but nothing comes. How am I to take this? I am so confused, the days events starting to overwhelm me. If this is true, shouldn't I feel joy? Relief? Why then do I only feel sadness? My eyes lower and I look at her neck. I still remember the scars she had, how she chocked and gagged as I gave them to her, the hate I felt for her as I almost... I turn away from her. "Anon?" I hear her say quietly, her voice so shaky I almost didn't hear it. "Won't you please forgive me?" "There is nothing to forgive..." I answer solemnly. "After what I did to you... I wouldn't blame you for hating me..." "I don't-" She starts, but I cut her off. "You don't have to hide it anymore... I've known all along. You are not as good at hiding it as you think..." She is quiet for a long time. I don't dare look at her. Finally I hear her sigh. "Yes... Yes, I did hate you... I didn't want to show it, because I knew it wasn't right, but it's true... However, I want that to change. I know now that you are not a bad pon- person." I shake my head slowly from side to side, never tearing my eyes off the floor. "You don't know me..." "I realize we were never... friends... Maybe we never will be close... But I suppose Applejack has turned me into a believer. Is there really such harm in trying?" "You don't understand..." My voice is almost a whisper, heavy and mournful. "None of you know me... Even I don't really know me..." "What do you mean?" "I have no idea who I was before ending up here... Or what..." I reach my hand up and rub my eyes. My entire body is feeling very heavy all of a sudden. "Was I the same man back then? Or have I just been pretending to have been someone I'm not all this time?" "I don't understand." "How can I know, that all the things I did, to you, to everyone else, that I didn't do it because I wanted to do it..." There is a long silence in the room. The rain has picked up in force, I can hear it pouring ceaselessly outside. That is far from my mind though. Images of all my gruesome deeds pour through my mind, and with it, all the emotions and thoughts from those moments with them. I lean my head into the palm of my hand. I can't stop them, forcing me to relive everything again and again, as I have every time I close my eyes. "Anon... That was not your fault, it was that... that thing. Even I, who has been too blinded by my own anger to admit it, know this. And so do you." "Are you sure? When that thing possessed me, I was still aware of everything that was happening, every little detail. I can still remember everything clearly." "Anon... I didn't know... But still... Though I can understand how that would be troubling, it was still It that was doing all those things, not you." "It goes deeper than that though." I take a deep breath, feeling a little lightheaded. My eyes sting. Am I crying again? I'm no longer sure at this point. "Applejack told me, that the reason she blamed me was because she had trouble figuring out where I ended and It began." I lean my head a bit to the side without lifting it from my palm and open one eye. I spot Rarity sitting in the same spot, silently watching me with a mix of sorrow and trepidation as she hangs on my words, listening intently and waiting for me to continue. "It's the same thing for me..." I utter as I choke on the lump in my throat, making the words sound strained and tearful. I direct my eyes back down and close them. "When it took over me... It became... me... Its thoughts were mine... Every desire... Every twisted pleasure... It felt like it was me all along... And when it turned on you... It was as if it was me hurting you... As far as I knew, it was me... I thought I had gone insane and I didn't know why I was doing these horrible things." I lift my other hand to my face as well, burying it in both of my palms. "I was so weak... A coward..." "Th- there was nothing you could do." Her voice is choked up and trembling, and I can hear her sniffle. "It's horrible... But what does who you were before Equestria have to do with any of this?" "Because I could have stopped it. I knew what I did was wrong, but I didn't stop myself, because I was too weak... How do I know that that thing didn't just make the real me resurface? The first times it happened... I still had some control over myself... When it happened I was helpless, but afterwards... I knew what I had done... I would regain control... And I did nothing... What kind of man does that? I don't know how much influence it had over me in the beginning, or when I finally lost all control. But I should have done something! Turned myself in, or ended it before I hurt anyone else! "How could I ever claim to be a good man? Was I ever one? I look at myself and it sickens me. Whoever I was before, I know that I don't deserve your forgiveness." As I finish, everything goes silent again. I am a monster. I really am. I sniffle, but I feel no tears staining my hands, maybe I don't have any left. I sit there for a long time. It is still silent. Rarity doesn't make a single sound. I keep still. I don't want to look at her, no matter if she says she forgives me or apologizes for how she thinks she's wronged me, I don't deserve it. It feels like several minutes pass in complete silence. What is she doing? Why isn't she saying anything? "Rarity?" Still no answer. An uneasy feeling rises in my chest. I lift my head from my hands, the rush of light hurting my eyes for a moment, and I look at her. She has stood up from her cushion, standing stiffly, staring at me. Tears are pouring down her cheeks, marking her makeup run, staining her cheeks in streams of black. The look on her face... It is one of pure hate. "You knew..." It is not a question when she whispers those words. Her trembling lips part slowly to reveal her gritted teeth. "You knew!?" She practically growls. I sit up in my chair, leaning back into it, trying to put more of a distance between us as I stare back, alarmed. "You could have stopped it... and you DIDN'T!?" Before I can even react, her horn ignites with a bright blue aura and one of the cups from the tea set comes flying towards me, just barely missing my head by and inch, smashing against the wall with enough force to leave a dent in the wallpaper. I spring up from my chair, tipping backwards and toppling over it, bringing both me and it to the floor. I quickly crawl to all fours and scurry away from the enraged mare, almost tripping over myself as I stagger back to my feet. As soon as I turn around, the silver platter comes flying and strikes me in the chest, knocking some of the wind out of me and making me back into the wall. Immediately, another cup smashes against the wall next to my head, pulling me out of my pained daze and I look at her. She is levitating several objects in her magical grip. Vases, cushions, more teacups and even some of her tools. She has thrown the table to the side, and her pupils are like pinpricks, burrowing into me. "You knew all along! You could have spared everyone! My friends! Me! Yet you did nothing!" The aura around her horn intensifies, its hum growing louder. I raise my arms and cover my face behind them, bracing myself. "You are a coward! Hiding while all of us suffered! You wretched, miserable animal! I wish you had just ended it so that we would never have to endure your filth again! You fiend! And to think I was starting to feel pity for you... you..." As she rail at me, screaming furiously, she is bombarding me with objects. I can't see what is coming due to shielding my face, but I feel them. Sometimes it's something hard, bruising me, other times it's something softer, bouncing harmlessly against me. Many times they just miss and smash against the wall around me. I twitch and turn, but I can't find any opening to get to safety. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer and I keep my eyes squeezed shut. "You MONSTER!" Something hits me in the chest, with more force than anything else she's thrown at me. It shatters loudly against me and I gasp as the pain spreads all throughout my chest. Caught off guard, I lower my arms in surprise, flattening myself against the wall. Not even a second passes before something buries itself into the wall right next to my head with a loud "thunk". Instinctively, I pull away to the side, away from the sound and look at it. A pair of large scissors have been embedded so far into the wall, little more than the handle is sticking out from it. I stare at it in fear, my pulse beating like crazy, the shock making me forget the pain from having been struck in the chest. I tear my eyes from the scissors to look at Rarity. Her posture is low and aggressive, she is panting hard and slow, clearly exhausted but no less enraged. Even more of her makeup ruined, as she is now covered in sweat, mixing with the tears still running down her face, and her mane and tail is disheveled, the usually well groomed curls have become a tangled mess. Her eyes and face still convey nothing but anger. I stay quiet. I don't dare say anything. I just wait for the next barrage. It never comes. "Get out..." She growls through her teeth. I stand still, not daring to move. "Get out of my home! Get out! Get out! Get! Out!" She shrieks at me. I tear myself from the wall and dash towards the door. My mind is blank of anything except a need to escape. I grab the door handle and yank it open, the door slamming against the wall, and I'm out. Out into the rain. A monster... Stumbling. Dizzy. Need to get away. Need to find her. Monster... The rain is pouring down, drenching me. Don't care. Let it wash me away... Let me disappear... Have to find her... She will know what to do... She will listen... Should be dead... Deserve to be... I know this street... She lives here... So tired... Been running non stop... What am I doing? Have to find her. Why? She can help. Do I want help? It hurts. Fire and lightning in my spine. Am I dying? No... Still alive... Monster. I stagger, tumbling into a wall. I catch myself against it. It's hard to focus. Rarity... You almost... Should have done it... I don't deserve your mercy... The rain. It just won't let up. I shake my head. Need to focus, think. I look around my surroundings. The streets are empty, everyone having sought shelter from the downpour. The houses are familiar to me, having walked this road many times before. This is where I will find her. She has to be here somewhere. This is where she said she lived. Gallop Street. "Sweetheart..." I whisper under my breath. Pushing myself from the wall, I continue to stumble down the street, ignoring the pain in my legs and spine. Which house is it? She never told me which one. Where could she be? "Sweetheart!" I shout. Please let her hear me. Keep moving, it's one of these houses. I call her name again. Nothing. I keep going, limping, grunting and shouting. Why doesn't she answer? I notice movement in the corner of my eye. Turning towards it, I can't... I can't see who it is... My vision is blurry... "Sweetheart?" I mumble, rubbing my eyes and trying again. It's not one shape, but two. I recognize them, though I don't know their names. One is a blue earth pony stallion with a bushy mane, the other one a light green pegasus mare with blond mane and freckles. They are just staring at me, perplexed and anxious. I sneer at them. Always staring. "What are you gawking at!?" I yell, making the both of them shy away. "You're here to judge me too? To point and condemn? What the hell do you know? What do any of you know!?" This is enough to make them turn around and gallop away in the other direction... Good... I continue my stumbling for a little while longer, when I spot it. There, on the side of a mailbox, spelled out in bold letters. Sweetheart. Finally... I move up to the door. Trying to straighten myself up and running my fingers through my soaked hair, slicking it back against my head to get it out of my eyes. I knock on the door and wait... and wait... and wait... Where is she? I try again. Nothing. I look at the mailbox again. Did I get it wrong? No, that's her name. I bang my fist loudly against the door. Still nothing. Panic rises in me. Why isn't she answering? Is she not at home? I start calling her name again. I grab the doorknob, twisting and pulling. Locked tight. I call once more, louder... Still no answer. I lean into the door, pounding and sobbing. "Please, open the door... Please..." I whimper, finally just letting my hands and forehead rest against the surface. I don't know for how long I just stand there, waiting, but eventually I try moving around to the back of the building. Maybe another way in? The windows are covered. I consider breaking them... No! This is her house... Can't break it. No no no. My heart jumps with joy when I spot another door in the back. I rush over to it, grab the handle and pull. Locked. I wail her name pathetically. Why is this happening? Why why why? A noise catches my attention. Something distant, echoing along the street. What was that? I look around me, down every road and backstreet. Then, I hear it again. It is a scream. Of pain and anger. I turn towards it. Nothing is there. Another scream, from behind. Then another. And another. All around me. Screaming. Wailing. I spin around, my breathing fast and panicky. It's growing loud... Coming closer. I stagger backwards, into an alley, my hands gripping my ears, trying to silence the screams. They won't stop. I can hear them. Inside my head. I scream and try to back away faster. My leg gets caught on something and I trip, falling into a collection of garbage bags and trashcans. I grip my head. It's throbbing. The screams grow even louder. I sit up and drag myself backwards on the ground until I back right into a brick wall. A sudden jab of pain in my chest. I roar in pain. The screaming stops. I'm panting and hissing through clenched teeth. Shit, it hurts. I shake my head and rub my temples with my hand. Where am I? I look around me. I'm... still in the alleyway. What was I doing? It's so fuzzy. I remember... Rarity... I left the boutique... Ran away... But then... It's like a misty haze... I wanted to see... Sweetheart... But why? My ramblings, the screaming, the haze. I feel like I'm losing more and more of myself by the minute. Soon they'll lock me up, declare me insane and leave me to rot... I'd rather die... A flash of pain in my chest. I grit my teeth and groan, my whole body tensing for a moment, then I'm just sitting there in the rain, panting hard. I look down over me. I notice a hole in my hoodie, over the left side of my chest, right next to my shoulder. I also notice a trail of blood going down my left hand, coming from under my sleeve. I lift my right hand and grab the zipper in my fingers, the small movement still causing me pain. I pull it down halfway, then guide my hand under my hoodie. My fingers brush against something hard, sticking out of me, and I'm greeted with yet another painful spike. I grit through it, grabbing hold of the object. I start to pull. It is wedged in real hard, refusing to let go. I keep pulling and pulling, screaming all the way. Finally it comes loose and I give a few pained, yet relieved grunts. I hold the object up, looking it over. A large shard of white porcelain, covered in blood. I drop it to the ground, and a sound rings out from me that's something between laughter and crying. This may finally be it. I feel cold... Dizzy... My head is pounding. So tired... Everything is getting fuzzy... I don't even care about the rain anymore... I'm just... Drifting away... Everything's fading... And eventually... everything goes dark...