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// one 
// Story: Quit Hitting Yourself 
// by Technicolor 
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Lyra slammed her hoof on her snout, watching her own eyes screw up in pain. Her nose was bleeding. Despite herself, she felt a rush of cold satisfaction pour in underneath the anger, seeing herself down in the dirt, covered in coffee and bleeding. This was a long time coming. A long time coming.

She glared back up at herself, wiping off on the back of her hoof. Spat something pink.

“You make me sick,” she muttered.

She boxed herself in the ear again and shouted, but Lyra kicked upward into her stomach, knocking the air from her and doubling her over. She tried to get on top, but they kept tumbling over each other, hurling punches without any sense of direction and certainly without any skill, bleeding and bruising and screaming in high-pitched voices as they rolled around in the dirt down the street.

It was lunchtime. Ponies were standing at the windows of Sugarcube Corner and staring. She should have been getting home, Bon Bon would be worried.

But she looked again into those bright yellow eyes and she seethed so hard she felt like her chest was going to push out her throat.

She gasped, reared back, and with boiling hatred choking out her thoughts, pounded her hoof right into her stupid face again.