Present day
There was junk everywhere. Old food cartons and wrappers strewn haphazardly, a few books, and even some old dresses littered the floor. This was all perfectly normal to the inhabitant of the apartment, but the mangled and broken speakers and turntables that joined the debris on the floor defied everything the mare stood for. The pony in question was laying in the only available corner of a mattress that was composed of more dust than bedding. Her alabaster coat appeared gray from malpractice of hygiene, and what was once an electric blue mane had undergone the same treatment as her fur.
The artist formerly known as DJ-Pon3, Vinyl Scratch, was forced awake with a groan. Traversing the small room, she retrieved a bottle of what she suspected was alcohol. With drink in hoof, Vinyl was halfway across the space when she stepped on something. Buried among the frayed wires, rested a record in perfect condition, which appeared to have dodged most of the abuse that the unicorn dealt out at random, but after a flick of her horn, the record lay smashed against the wall. Vinyl took another drink, as she limped back to the corner. Lying back down on her bed, she downed the drink, and prompt broke the bottle against the same spot in the wall that the record previously acquainted itself with. A pale blue aura filled the room as she pulled on the curtains to block out Celestia’s sun, dousing the room in a shade which contrasted the brighter colors of the morning, which had been seeping through the now shut window. Rolling over, the DJ made quick work of falling asleep again, and she left the room to it’s own devices. Not that it had much to do, most of the furnishings were destroyed and piled in the middle of the room. This eccentric collection wasn’t much to look at, from bottom to top of the pile it consisted of a splintered couch, at one point it may have been a loveseat, a very expensive looking set of speakers, followed by an even more expensive looking turntable and computer. Amplifiers, keyboards, and various other instruments played a part in this spectacle. Records and smaller devices were thrown on at random, with more than one object being an empty bottle. Adorning the top of the pile, strangely enough, was a faded pink bow tie.
The apartment remained dormant for a few hours, until the owner rose from exhaustion. Iridescent violet shades were levitated onto the bridge of her muzzle, and she slunk off into the city. A few moments later came a knock. “Vinyl? Vinyl, please, would you listen to me?” Came a pleading voice from the hallway. Minutes passed in silence until the voice turned away. “I guess I’ll talk to you again tomorrow. Goodbye Vinyl.” The last words were said in barely a whisper, then the voice turned a corner and was no more.
As if on cue, Vinyl shuffled back through the hallway and into her abode. Almost as if she knew that voice would come. Much like it did everyday, for the past three months, and always at the same time. With the same response every time; silence. Having procured more bottles during her escape from reality, the DJ drank once more. Luna appeared to be hesitant to raise the moon this night, for evening came and went slowly, until the world was bathed in a much softer glow. The mare noticed none of it, for she was dropped into a stupor. Her night consisted of forgotten memories and hopeless dreams as she continued to dismember the pieces of equipment, in between her bouts with alcohol of course. Weariness finally took hold of her body, and she pulled herself under the sheets. Before Vinyl fell asleep, she grasped a piece of chalk, and carved a tally mark into the wall beside her. The mare fell asleep next to the haphazardly drawn tally marks, which totalled 6 months and 3 days.