//------------------------------// // Lying // Story: Broken Wings // by Wewilto6 //------------------------------// She woke with a start, confusion filling her mind as she tried to take in her surroundings. The wetness under her chin; the flat, cold surface against her side; the rain… where was she? Her vision, still blurry, strained to readjust. Shapes bounced around her eyes, swimming through her vision. She squinted, the shapes beginning to calm as they consolidated into what lie in front of her. A garbage can. Quick pulled herself from the water, making a quiet sloshing noise as she lifted from the malicious puddle that had tried to drown her. She wobbled, not able to regain her bearings as she inadvertently leaned into the wall, using its cold, broken surface for support. The rain still fell. The building above her head kept it away from her, but she still feared its presence. Each patter of water hitting pavement made her flinch, she looked away from the droplets that fell from the sky, hugging the wall as she painstakingly made her way out of the oppressive alley way. What day was it? What time was it? She wondered, not able to think of an exact time. Not even an estimate, for that matter. It was still dark. She hoped the darkness signaled she had only been asleep a few hours. After what seemed, and probably was, an eternity, the brown mare pulled herself from the jaws of the alley and landed on the sidewalk beyond, finally tasting freedom. She lay there a moment, taking a deep breath and thinking. Should she go home? She believed it to be the best choice. After rising from the wet pavement, Quick made a right turn and began to walk, finding herself beneath the benevolent overhang of her favorite coffee shop, “Joe’s Joe”. Quick smiled and sighed in relief, wincing as she felt a sharp pain in her ribs. She coughed, slowing down her breathing. After taking short, shallow breaths, the pain finally abated. She took a long look around the area; turning in a circle to get a good view. The park lay across the street, a large, dark tree in the center across from a bench. She loved that tree, something about it always made her think of home. Home. She sighed sadly. She could never get over it, she could never adapt. She felt lost. She sighed again as she looked to her flank, gazing upon the white swallow cutie mark adorning her side. She never really understood her cutie mark; she had always just left it as being a symbol for flying. It made her sad. She had her mark, she was supposed to know what it meant, but she still felt lost. She had always hoped a cutie mark would take away her feeling of displacement, but it never did, in fact it strengthened it. It was ironic, really, having a cutie mark and not knowing what it meant for her. She took a last nostalgic glance at the tree and shifted her gaze to the left, focusing on the large clock in the center of town. 11:25 pm. She almost jumped, stopping as her legs screamed against it. “Eleven twenty-five!?” She exclaimed in horror. “Joseph’ll beat me with a broken blender if I don’t get home!” She groaned, thinking that by this point it wouldn’t matter if she were any later. She took a minute to finish her examination of the surroundings. No ponies walked the street, much to her relief. Night ponies weren’t usually very friendly, or in some cases, they were too friendly. She shuddered, not wanting to think about any of that as she shuffled into the surprisingly still open coffee shop. The shop was empty, save for one cloaked pony at a booth. Some hollow tune played in the background, she didn’t really know nor care what it was as she sauntered to the counter. The counterman stood with his back turned, his busy hooves on an empty pot of coffee as he put it away. Quick’s jaw still hurt, she rolled it, trying to move the stubborn pain away. To her disappointment and irritation, it remained. She stood awkwardly for a moment, the counterman still not noticing her quiet presence. She cleared her throat. The counterman turned his head, “What? Oh sorry.” He turned around fully, moving to the counter and laying his hooves on its surface. “Wait… Quick? Is that you?” Quicksilver nodded, her bruised face moving up and down, causing the counterman to worry, “What happened to you?” Quick sniffed and shifted her eyes away just slightly, shuffling her hooves nervously on the tan, tile floor. “I uh… fell… off the tree in the park.” She looked back at him, hoping her lie had worked. The counterman looked unconvinced. He simply looked at her in what seemed to be… disappointment? She felt ashamed, Joe had always been nice to her and she felt terrible lying to him. But how was she supposed to tell him that she got beat up in an alley? She didn’t want her brother to worry if he told him. Quick nodded absentmindedly, it hurt. “Yes. I did.” She lied again. Joe didn’t question further, he knew she wouldn’t tell him the truth. He sighed, “Do you want some coffee?” He offered with a sad smile. Quick smiled though she felt like crying, the bruise on her cheek stretching with her grin. Joe winced, he worried about her even more. “Sure Joe, that’d be nice.” She responded with a tired voice. Joe quickly fetched a cup of coffee, filling it with cream and some sugar before hoofing it over to the battered mare. She took it gladly, biting it by the rim and taking it over to a windowed booth, “Thanks!” She said in a muffled voice. Sitting down on the worn red upholstery, Quick placed the hot coffee down, the steam beginning to tickle her nose. She almost sneezed, putting her hoof up to block it and sighing in relief. Her head tapped the window as she leaned against it, not paying attention much to the coffee. Her eyes absentmindedly found the tree again, to her dislike. She looked back at the coffee; it’s dark brown surface rippled and moved, enticing her. She leaned in and took a sip. It felt as if the pain just washed away as the liquid went down her throat. Joe’s coffee was the best. Award winning, in fact. Before she knew it the cup was empty, she gave a satisfied sigh and leaned back lazily. She closed her eyes, not really thinking about anything. It then occurred to her. Was she… stalling? She thought for a moment, No… I’m just relaxing… She looked at the clock that hung above the counter. Twenty minutes had passed, it was almost midnight. Joe would REALLY have her head now… Quick swallowed. Joseph wasn’t physical, but his words… Quick shuddered. I better get home. She stopped, groaning in frustration. But the rain… She couldn’t leave yet. The rain continued to fall; she wouldn’t be caught dead in that Celestia-forsaken water. She panicked. What the hell am I going to do? She asked herself silently. She couldn’t tell what she feared more, the rain or her angry brother. She shivered at both. She buried her face in her hooves as she listened to the rain patter against the road outside. Pat, pat, pat. Pat, pat. Pat… Pat…. Pat… Quick perked one ear, not lifting her head yet. Was it stopping? She glanced out of her hooves to the window. It was! She sighed in relief, unable to express with words how glad she was. “Thanks Joe!” She exclaimed, grabbing her bag that was strapped to her side as she lifted herself from the table. She reached inside, taking out a few bits to hoof to him. Joe shook his head, smiling. “It’s alright Quick, it’s on the house.” Quick smiled again and waved as she exited the shop in a hurry, “Thanks again!” She repeated as the light sound of a bell on the door signaled her rushed exit. Quick made a sharp turn, wincing as her ankle attacked her nerves. “Dammit!” She cursed, lifting her leg up and shaking it. She tried to block out the pain she felt. Not just the physical. She limped down the street, her eyes darting warily from side to side. “Please not tonight…” She pleaded to the air. The street was quiet and the city was dark. The polluted night sky blocked out much of the moon and the only real source of light came from the glowing orbs that lined the side of the street. She wobbled and steadied herself on one of the green lampposts, her ankle giving her more trouble. The city was empty. The streets were silent. A shadow flicked across an alley wall. Quick tensed immediately, feeling a familiar chill run down her spine as she sensed the movement out of the corner of her eye. “Oh shit.” She said to herself quietly, not daring to turn. If there was one thing that scared her more than the street at night, it was the shadows that jumped across it. One shadow in particular scared her the most. It sent a chill down her spine every time. She didn’t need to see it to know it was there. And then it came. The slow, leisurely step of a nearing set of hooves. Quick swallowed and began to panic, not turning her head and keeping careful to appear calm. This is why she hated coming home late. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she moved to stand independent of the lamppost. She put one hoof forward and began to trot, slowly and calmly. She kept her steady pace, desperately resisting the urge to break into a full sprint. She hid her hurt ankle well as her breathing became slow and shallow. Suddenly the hoofsteps stopped. Quick couldn’t express her absolute relief at that moment. She stopped moving to take a deep breath, fear washing from her body like the rain to the pavement. Clop… Silence. Quick tensed again, taking a shaky breath as her eyes widened. She took another few steps forward and then stopped suddenly, much like before. Clop… The same silence filled the street. Quick resumed her trot, utterly in panic. He was matching her hoofsteps. She had to get out of there, fast. Only one more block to go. She told herself reassuringly in her mind. She looked forward, still not daring to turn. Her eyes found the corner of the sidewalk, the road split and made a ninety-degree turn no more than 20 feet from her. She looked at it hopefully; it could very well be her saving grace. Her apartment was a straight shot from there. Her breath became quicker as she grew near to the street corner. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five feet. This was it. With a sudden burst of speed, Quick dashed around the corner, ignoring the pain in her leg as she scampered across the wet pavement in a mad dash. The footsteps dropped out of synch with her hooves as soon as she picked up speed. The slow steps just audible over Quick’s hurried ones. She heard them fade, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned she wasn’t safe until she was off the damned streets. She galloped faster. She sighed in relief as she slammed into the door of her apartment, not even caring that the hard impact hurt her injuries. She let out a tear as she leaned against the door, laughing a little. “I’m alive!” she exclaimed joyfully. She put her hooves to her mouth suddenly, tensing once again as she remembered where she was. Her apartment. Also known as, her brother’s home. She groaned, almost wishing to be back out on the street again. Almost. She turned regretfully to the door and reached up a shaking hoof, hesitating. Was it worth it? Maybe I should go back, sleep in an alley way or something… It actually sounded preferable to her at that moment. Rats don’t yell at you… “Yeah… Yeah maybe I should leave….” She told herself as she turned away. “You’re not going anywhere, Quick.” Came a stern voice from behind her. She flinched as her brother’s voice hit her in the back of the head. She didn’t want to turn. She didn’t want to stare into those angry, crimson eyes and say ‘I’m sorry’. “Come inside.” Quick let a tear out. She turned slowly, fear overcoming every part of her body. still terrified, she shuffled inside. The door closed softly behind her. Quick slammed the door to her room behind her as she rushed inside, the faint light from the lamp on her desk lightly illuminating the wetness on her cheeks. She slid down the door, sobbing gently. Joseph was harsh. He wasn’t physical, but his anger and disappointment with her hurt more than any punch. She had to lie again. Quick didn’t like to lie. But she had no idea of how he was going to tell him what actually happened. The fear of that overrode the fear of him being disappointed. She pulled herself across her carpet and into bed, wrapping the covers over herself tight. She scratched her leg. The bandages were itchy, but she appreciated their presence. Her chest hurt as she lay on her stomach, wincing and rolling on her side to avoid the discomfort in her ribs. Quicksilver groaned as she pulled the covers over her face. She felt absolutely terrible. Her bones ached, her head hurt, her skin itched. It was awful, but the torment inside hurt more. She yelled into her blankets, muffling the noise. She didn’t want to sleep. Sleep meant waking up, waking up meant going to school, and going to school meant… Quicksilver paled as she thought of it. It meant seeing her.