Once Scootaloo made it to her room, she took the bottle out of her bag. She stared at it for several minutes, unable to have a coherent thought. Slowly, she felt less sad. The confusion and anger were replaced by sheer apathy. She could see herself in front of her. It was like on of the games she'd played with Button Mash, except she didn't really seem to be in control. Her body didn't move for several minutes. Her muzzle seemed to quiver slightly. She saw herself walk to her desk and rummage through it's drawers. Her hoof briefly held a bottle of ibuprofen before replacing it in the drawer. After rummaging some more, she came across her multi-tool.
Scootaloo watched as her right hoof opened the tool to it's smallest blade. She stared at it for several moments, cocking her head to the side. It was if she was looking at it inquisitively. She sought answers in the reflection of the blade, not noticing a single tear fall onto it. Before she could react she saw her right hoof moving the knife to just above her left. She was slicing open her own skin. The blade entered easily after the initial rip of skin. Once it was in it dragged easily through more. After making a three inch horizontal cut along her wrist, she proceeded to make two more, each easier than the last. They weren't quite parallel, but they were all close together and not touching. Oddly enough her only thought at the moment was disappointment that they weren't perfectly parallel.
Blood slowly dripped down her hoof as she began seeing through her own eyes again. She chuckled slightly at first, thinking the cut's slight slant gave them more character. They looked better that way. Why had she been disappointed by that a moment ago? It was at that thought when she realized that she wasn't the only pony that would see them. The pain came flooding in all at once. Her left arm began to sting and she became increasingly aware of the blood that was dripping on the floor.