“Yer sure 'bout this?” John asked as he warily eyed the large tub that had been filled with all manner of plants that he didn’t recognize.
“Jus’ get in the tub.” Applejack encouraged him. “Even if ah’m wrong an’ poison joke’s got nothin’ to do with ya, it ain’t gonna hurt ya none.”
John looked into her eyes, so filled with hope and anticipation. She had gone on and on about how she should have thought of this earlier, that it should have been obvious that he had to have gotten into some poison joke. She had been like a little child on her birthday, uncontrollably eager and impatient to get her presents.
He looked over to Big MacIntosh, standing silent vigil nearby. Though he had barely said a word, he could see a similar anticipation in his face. He may not have been as vocal about it, but he realized that he was just as excited as his sister.
“Alright, then, ah’ll do it. Ah jus’ hope ya ain’t disappointed.”
With one final deep breath, John stepped into the tub and submerged himself beneath the surface.
______________________________
John walked into the woods next to his farmhouse, pistol in his hand. He was so very tired. The act of walking alone was enough to drain him of most of his energy. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t need much energy to pull a trigger.
Gasping for breath, he leaned against a broad tree trunk. He winced as his back was jabbed painfully by a knot in the wood and reached for his pill bottle once more. He popped off the lid and placed the opening to his mouth, swallowing what little was left in one go. He tossed aside the empty container and stood there catching his breath.
A curious squirrel bounded up onto a nearby fallen log and chattered at him noisily. It was almost like it was one of his doctors chastising him for what he was about to do.
“Shut up...” He forced out of his lethargic lips. The squirrel tilted its head for a moment and then continued with its chattering as if John had said nothing at all.
“I said shut up!” He screamed through his tears. What did a damn squirrel know about his pain? What right did it have to scold him like that? The squirrel ignored his order and kept right on with chastising him.
With a cry of rage and anguish, John pushed against the tree to launch himself at the animal. Though he went as quickly as he could manage in his drugged up state, he didn’t even come close to getting the critter. Instead, he landed on top of the log with his face hanging into the dirt.
He knew he should have been in serious pain from the impact, but the over dose of pain killers had him only feeling numb. Finally the pain had disappeared. He knew that his relief was only temporary, though. If the drugs didn’t kill him, it would all come crashing back within a few hours. For now, though, he was at peace lying there with the scent of earth filling his nostrils.
John lifted his head and saw his pistol in the dirt just in front of him. He had forgotten he had brought that with him during his rage filled confrontation with the squirrel. He didn’t know how long he stared at that weapon. It could have been hours or merely seconds. Either way, the cold feeling of loneliness began to seep back in and tears once again coursed down his face.
He reached for the weapon, but for some reason his fingers just wouldn’t work the way he wanted. He gave up trying, and soon his vision faded to black, the gun being the last thing he saw.
________________________________
John woke up with a gasp to the sound of gunfire from some cheesy action film and the painful glare of bright, florescent light. He instinctively brought a hand to his face to protect his eyes.
Hand. Not hoof.
Tears silently coursed down his face as that fact sunk in.
“Oh, I’m sorry...did I wake you?” An unfamiliar voice greeted him with an apology.
John uncovered his eyes and looked off to the side. Lying in a hospital bed near him was a pale, thin boy, a teenager he guessed. He held a remote in his hand and he looked incredibly apologetic.
“I..I can shut it off if you want, it’s okay!” The boy stuttered.
He spied the TV that was hanging from the wall. It played an old action movie and had the channel’s logo emblazoned in the corner of the screen.
The screen flickered as the boy turned it off and John just stared at the blank screen in silence.
_____________________
Three days passed and the anguish John felt faded away into numbness, at least in part due to an increase in pain medication that he was being pumped full of. The teenager in the other bed remained his companion for the entire duration.
The kid watched a lot of television, all sorts of stuff. He marvelled at every show he saw, regardless of what it was. Game shows, movies, cartoons, kids shows, he watched all of it with enthusiasm, almost as if he never had watched television before.
The boy talked. A lot. He needed no encouragement to do so, not that John had given any. He talked about the shows he saw and their characters. He talked about how he didn’t often get the chance to watch television. He talked about how he preferred the fantasy worlds that television showed him over the real world. John could empathise with this view, better than the boy could ever imagine.
John got the impression that the kid was lonely. He didn’t even seem to care that John hadn’t talked to him at all, he just kept on chattering away in a happy mood, and yet he could tell the kid had a streak of sorrow lurking beneath that cheerful exterior. Through the kid, he learned that he had been fading in and out of consciousness for days before he had properly come to his senses, and that he had always been completely out of it with delusions or hallucinations or something whenever he was awake. It was tremendously painful to know he was alone yet again, but the truth often was.
His life seemed so clear to him now. His mother’s first name? Anna. The town he lived near? Bloomsberg. The forest he lived next to? Okay, he still didn’t remember the name of that one, but it hardly mattered. He remembered his life now. Equestria, the Apple ponies, all of that was about as real as what the kid watched on the television.
Two more days passed. Not a single soul visited him in that time, not that such a thing surprised him, there was nobody to visit him. What’s more, he began to notice that nobody visited the boy, either. They were two lonely people sharing a hospital room. For the first time since regaining himself, John spoke.
“What’re ya in here for?” He asked the kid, who looked around the room in search of the strange new voice until he finally realized its source.
“Oh. Umm...I uh...had an allergic reaction.”
John didn’t believe him, but he didn’t press.
“Ah’m in here ‘cause ah tried to kill myself. Ah had a gun an’ was ‘bout to shoot myself, but I pumped myself full of so many pills ah must’ve passed out. Not sure how ah got here, but it don’t really matter none. Somepony found me, an’ that’s that.”
John realized he had actually said ‘somepony’, and found his cheeks warming up in embarrassment over his gaffe, though if the kid noticed he didn't say anything. Silence fell between them, only the sound of the television cutting through the emptiness of the room. The kid avoided his gaze and John figured that the conversation was probably over. He repositioned himself so that he could be a little more comfortable and went back to watching the cartoon that was currently playing.
“I tried to kill myself too.” The kid finally admitted. John looked over to him, though the kid didn’t say anymore. They just lay there, two lost souls taking comfort in their shared knowledge of unspoken pain.
___________________________
“Okay, Mister Carson, you’ve been given a clean bill of health. You’ll be clear to leave in a couple of hours.”
John looked over to the nurse that was hovering over his companion, who was looking rather downcast at the news. He didn’t argue, though, merely nodded. The nurse didn’t stick around, leaving the two of them alone once again in the room. The kid curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.
“Where are ya gonna go, kid?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he answered. “Home to my parents.”
“Ya don’t have parents, do ya?”
The kid hugged his knees even tighter. “Yes I do.” He argued faintly.
“Kid, ya ain’t had a single visitor all week. A parent woulda come to see ya near every day. Ya ain’t got parents. Yer alone.”
He began to tremble and a few tears began to flow down his gaunt cheeks.
“What’re ya gonna do?” John asked again.
“I don’t know!” He answered between sobs.
John’s heart broke at seeing somebody so young in such despair. He reached for a piece of paper and a pen that were beside his bed. After writing something down, he forced himself onto his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain in his back. He had refused to take as much medication recently as he had earlier. He was better able to talk with his companion when he wasn’t higher than the clouds.
“Here.” He shoved the piece of paper into the kid’s hands, who stared up at him through the tears with questioning eyes. “Go there. There’s a spare key beneath the welcome mat. Yer welcome to stay there as long as ya need.”
The kid looked from him to the paper and back.
“Thank you.”
_____________________
Two more days passed before John left the hospital. They wanted him to stay longer on account of him having injured his back even further with his attempted suicide, but he refused. He had to get back home.
He took a cab back to his farm, paid the incredibly high fee, and hurried as quickly as he could to the front door of his home. He paused and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and then reached for the handle. It was still locked. He found the key where he left it beneath the welcome mat and entered into the house.
He searched room by room, hoping to find that kid from the hospital. The living room, the bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen...all were empty. He checked the fridge but couldn’t tell if any of it had been used recently. He hadn’t exactly taken stock of his supplies at any point before he tried to kill himself. He walked up to a window and leaned his forehead against the cool glass with a sigh as he tried to push aside the loneliness that threatened to crush him once again.
John trudged back outside and made his way to the stables. As he neared them, he heard the familiar whinny of Jackie. At least he still had his horses, he thought with a bittersweet smile. He pushed open the door, stepped inside and then stopped in his tracks.
“Oh, hey. I was wondering if you were going to show up.”
The kid from the hospital stood in the middle of the stable, brushing Jackie. His smile as he was doing so was a content one, and far more sincere than the ones he had worn while under medical care.
John stood unmoving a moment longer before he could finally react. He marched forward and pulled the young man into a hug while joyous tears coursed down his face.