Suffering in Silence

by SmokeShadow95


One Step Forward

Octavia drew her bow across the strings of her cello one last time. She let out the last note in the piece they were performing. She bowed her head and lay her bow across her lap. She listened as her fellow musicians finished up their own parts and the whole show came to a stop.

“Very, very good! All of you,” The pony at the head of the stage waved his hooves back and forth. “Wonderful! Simply wonderful. That was a perfect practice performance. You are all ready for the upcoming show. I know I can't wait. Go home and get some rest, all of you.”

Octavia nodded and stood up. Many of the other performers stood up as well. They talked amongst themselves, congratulating and shaking hooves. Almost everypony was doing it. But not Octavia. The dear cellist simply moved past all the rest and put her instrument away.

“Hey, Octavia. Wait up.”

She closed the lid to her instrument case before looking up. Another of the performers. Velvet String. A nice stallion who played the violin. She always liked him. He was kind and smart. He liked her as well. They had gone out on a couple of dates before, but it never went anywhere. Luckily, they had broken up amicably and they still remained friends to this day. She was very thankful for that. He was probably the last and only friend she still had.

“Hello, Velvet,” Octavia said plain and flat.

“Octavia. It is good to see you,” He said. “You've been gone a long time. I'm glad you're back.”

“But,” Octavia said. “There is something else you want to say. I can see it in your face.”

“If I may,” He replied. “I wish to ask what happened. Something about you has changed, Octavia. I can hear it in your music. You used to play with your soul in every note, but now there nothing but a sadness in your music.”

“It fits the piece we're playing, Velvet,” Octavia replied. “Leave it at that.”

“I simply wish to help, Octavia, if I can.”

Octavia sighed. “You cannot help me, Velvet,” She said. “Now just leave me alone.”

“Octavia, I-”

“Leave it be!” Octavia snapped back at him over her shoulder. Several of the other performers turned the heads as a hushed whisper quieted them. Octavia glared at him for a second longer. She sighed regretfully. “I'm sorry, Velvet. It's just that. . . there is nothing you can do to help me.”

=====

The day went on with Octavia going home by herself. This was quite normal for her. She stood outside in a sullen silence and waited as a car came around to pick her up. It was another of her mothers feeble attempts at swaying her moods. Not that it worked, but Octavia still took the car ride home. Velvet watched from afar as his friend had to suffer. He only wished he could do something about it.

Octavia sat in her room at home. Hours in the day ticked on by ever so slowly. She tried to occupy her time with a good book, but it seemed that no matter which book she tried none of them were good enough. Each one was more boring than the last. Well, not even boring really. It just seemed that she couldn't get into them. She couldn't focus on the pages and the words.
She picked up the fifth book in her attempt to read as the afternoon ticked on by. She lazily opened up the book. Three pages she read and she found herself not being able to retain anything of it. No feelings the author was trying to impart, no characters that caught her attentions. She sighed and tossed the empty book aside. The book landed with a thud on its spine and fell with its pages open.

The gray mare sighed heavily and moved away from the seat by her window. The afternoon light was fading fast. Nighttime was coming. Octavia looked over at her bed. She knew that if she laid down right now she would be laying and tossing and turning half the night. Even if, by some miracle, she did fall asleep she knew her slumber would be tormented by nightmares and horrid dreams. She could practically feel the restlessness as she looked at her bed.

Uugghhhh. She thought to herself. I can't sleep. I can't read. Maybe I can draw or something.

She moved over to a corner of her room. Some simple art supplies were collected there. This wasn't one of her favorite activities, but something her mother had pushed her to do. She believed it was something all of the high class mares should know how to do, even if just the simplest things. Even though, Octavia did find the act of drawing to be a bit relaxing.
She lit a half dozen candles around the corner and picked up a piece of charcoal. She held it up to the easel and held her hoof there.

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to draw?”

Octavia firmly pressed the tip of the charcoal against the paper. Her mind that had been racing all day, keeping her from focusing on anything, was suddenly blank. She stared at the empty, blank, whiteness and wondered what to do as it reflected her own state of mind. Octavia frowned and dragged the charcoal down the paper. A heavy, black line decorated the page. In a state of growing anger, Octavia struck out with her charcoal.

She lashed out at the paper as if the charcoal pencil were a sword. She sliced lines of darkness onto the paper. Fine black powder drained from the lines. With each and every stroke of her pencil she made more lines, blurring those she had already put to paper. One of her strokes hit the paper harder than she intended, snapping the pencil in two. The pieces fell from her hooves and she stared down at them with a huff. A knock on her door shook her away from her easel.

“Not now!” Octavia yelled. “Leave me alone.”

She hardly noticed as a door opened slightly. “I take it you're not in a good mood then? Should I come back later?”

Octavia's ears perked up. She knew that voice. It was familiar to her, but she hadn't heard it in years. She looked over her shoulder with a small glimmer of hope, but she really wasn't expecting much. For once, she was glad to be wrong. Her angered expression turned into a wide smile.

“Lydia, is that you?!”

Octavia raced for the door. The pony on the other side of the door eased it open and stepped through, only to be nearly tackled by Octavia.

“Hello, Octavia,” She said as Octavia squeezed a hug out of her. “It is good to see you, too.”

Octavia released her captive and held her at hoof length. “Lydia. It is you. But what happened? Where did you go? I just woke up one day and you were gone. I heard you went to work for another household. Did Mother have anything to do with it?”

The two of them moved away from the doors and over to the window. Lydia, a Unicorn, moved a few of the candles from the corner over to the window sill. Lydia was hoofmaiden for the house. Octavia had grown up with her. She was over two decades older than herself, but she had been one of the best friends Octavia had ever had. Until some time ago when she just up and vanished.

“Seven years, dearie,” Said the old pony, Lydia, “It has been seven long years, Octavia.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was sent off is what happened,” Lydia almost shouted, “That mother of yours said I wasn't doing my job, so she sent my off to that awful family in Phillydelphia. That one with the two sons that you always disliked.”

“That's awful,” Octavia gasped, “What did you do?”

“Not much I could do, dearie, but work,” Lydia said. “And work I did. Why, I had that place running better than anypony could have guessed in less than a year. Eventually, I was bumped up to the head maid.”

“You always were the best, Lydia,”

“And don't you forget it,” She said in a playfully joking manner, “Yes, and then the whole place went under. Bad investments, I heard. I was forced to find another job, and so I sent word back here.”

“Mother took you back,” Octavia was visibly shocked by this.

“Please, she hardly notices who is or isn't hired,” Lydia said. “She doesn't care as long as the job is done.”

“HA! Very true,” Octavia had to hold back her laughter, lest she wake somepony.

“But enough about this old bat,” Lydia said, “It's been seven years, dearie. Tell me about yourself. What's is new with you? Is there a special stallion in your life?”

Octavia's cheeks became flushed with a red color. The blush only got bigger as Lydia pried.

“Oh, come now, dearie, you have to tell me,” She said. “I can see it in you. I know its there.”

“Well,” Octavia said, nervously fidgeting with her hooves, “There is a pony out there, I guess.”

“Ho, I knew it,” Lydia roared. “I want to know it all, dearie.”

“Well then. First, you should know that she isn't a stallion,” Octavia said.

“Ooh,” Lydia cooed. “How scandalous. Tell me more.”

Octavia couldn't help but smile at the old mare. She was so much older, but still had the heart of a younger pony. She was always in s good mood and always nice to her. She was Octavia's friend. She was her big sister, her best friend, her diary. She was the one source of happiness she had always had in this wretched house. And she was finally back.

They sat there together for hours just talking. The candles had burned down to almost nothing. Octavia had spent most of the time telling Lydia of the one day, six months ago. That one day where she met the pony who would change her life. She went on and one about Vinyl, and how her mother had separated them. Lydia just listened.

“Oh my,” She said when Octavia was finally done. “Now that is quite the tale, dearie.”

“I know, but you wanted to know if I had anypony in my life.”

“Pardon me saying so, dearie,” Lydia said. “But this Vinyl isn't in your life at the moment.”

“And whose fault is that,” Octavia shouted. “Mother had us magically pried apart. I don't even know where to begin looking for her. I only met her for the one day.”

Octavia jumped off her seat. She paced around the room as the rising anger stirred up a restlessness in her. Lydia watched as she moved back and forth, wearing a small indent into the carpeting. She sighed heavily and looked over at the young gray mare.

“Tell me, dearie, why is she so important to you if you only knew her the one day?”

Octavia stopped in her tracks. She looked up at Lydia with an intent to yell at her. To scream some of the same things she had been yelling at her mother for months now, but she didn't. As soon as she saw the look on Lydia's face, that look of patience and understanding, she stopped. The words got caught in her throat and she couldn't speak. The anger subsided and she was forced to look away. She turned her head and found herself looking at the corner where the easel stood. Only then did she notice what she had actually drawn.
It was Vinyl. Every charcoal line. Each dark shaded mark. Somehow, in her anger she had drawn an image of Vinyl. It was rather crude, but the image was still clear. Octavia stared at it for a moment before walking over to it.

“Because, Lydia,” She said as she grabbed a pencil. A colored pencil. “Vinyl Scratch is special to me.” Octavia began to take that pencil, and color in the blues of her mane.

“I can't tell you exactly why she means so much to me, but she does. Yes, we only knew each other for one day, but it was one very special day. We made a connection that day.”

She finished with the blues of her mane as she spoke. She took a second to look over the paper. She smiled as she liked what she saw. She took a hoof and brushed it across a few of the lines, erasing some of the harshness of some of the lines. She blew away the fine powder from the materials with a soft breath.

“Dearie, I think you do know,” Lydia said as she came up behind Octavia. She was working with a deep red color now. “You are just too afraid to say it aloud. Let me tell ya, there ain't nothing to be afraid of. Not your mother, not all this time apart, not anything. You can say it. I promise I won't tattle.”

Octavia stared into the eyes of the image she had drawn. She had just colored them the deepest of the reds that only a real ruby could compare to. She stepped back as she looked upon the face of the pony that had been filling her mind all this time. Her image filled her view and tears welled up in her eyes.

“Vinyl Scratch,” Octavia said softly, but aloud, “I love you.”