A Mind Confined

by vehlek

Act Two: Fear

Riverjump clutched her head with one hoof and leaned against the mailbox with the other. While her face was distinctly off-color, it was her frown that looked like it might change shape at any given moment. She took a minute to steady herself and her stomach, then got back to the mail.

She sorted through the junk first, stacking it in a pile on top of the mailbox, then put the missives to her parents on top of those. All her thoughts were focused on the mail alone, and those that strayed back to how ill her bowels and brain felt were quickly put back into concentration. The times her stomach jolted, she clutched the mail much tighter.

This was routine for her, minus the hangover. It may have seemed strange to outside ponies, if any of them had seen where Riverjump was just yesterday, but she was feeling better right now despite the world around her spinning just a little. She had even gotten up when she actually woke up.

There was one letter for her today. She held it up higher than the rest, paying attention mostly to whom it was from. His name turned her expression even iller.

She thought about not opening it at first, but she unclipped the string binding it shut even while her doubts weighed heavy. The letter read:

Dear Riverjump,

I hope you haven’t moved from this address already. I really wanted this letter to reach you. I’ve been thinking a lot about you, and I guess this is my attempt at admitting what I did wrong, and what I can do better. I think we can make it work again if you’re willing to give me another chance.

I’m not coming by to fluster you in person or anything, don’t worry. I just want you to write back to me and give me an answer. Some things in our relationship went way further than they should have, and some didn’t go far enough.

I wasn’t lying when I said the nice things about you. I meant every one of them, and I still feel them. If it helps, this is my fifth try at writing this letter. I want everything I say to come out right this time. God, I miss you. Write me back.

The letter ended with a farewell, then his name. By the time Riverjump got that far, she had already sat down by the side of her mailbox, her back leaning against its post. Her expression had turned to a different kind of pain. She felt like a worse person for getting affected by it at all.

Riverjump just needed a moment to collect herself, even if the moment lasted several minutes before she remembered she was outside, where everyone could see her too plainly for her to be comfortable. The sender was long gone from her, but the thought of him only reminded her of that other colt. The new one. “The colt,” because she had worked up the courage to ask him out before even asking his name.

Riverjump dropped the letter. It wasn’t just shame that was rekindled by remembering her life from years ago. Rather, memories were getting stirred of what happened before she even met the sender. She remembered what was still happening right now to the new colt.

She bent over and puked.

---

A Mind Confined

Act Two: Fear

---

Riverjump didn’t stay home for long. She wanted coffee, and hadn’t thought of whatever would happen after that--nothing decent. The first place she found that seemed a good candidate was a little dine-in bakery. Large windows in the front showed puffy pastries and other diversified treats, and a sign read, “Yes, we serve hay.”

As her stomach rolled around inside her again, she grimaced at the thought of going inside. Her stomach didn’t provide the only feeling of dread as she waited on the store’s cusp; she had a bad but familiarly entrenched feeling of what was already waiting inside.

She pushed open the door anyway, and inside found the colt from yesterday wearing an apron and serving customers breakfast. She lowered her head and went down the opposite aisle from him. Coincidences didn’t happen to her, and just seeing him made the pit of her stomach feel even more sour.

Riverjump chose the corner booth out of several available. Though she was already trying to stifle her frown, she whispered, “Just one cup.”

She gazed straight down at the table most of the time, but kept glancing back at the colt as he served other customers. She pushed around the salt shaker on her table in between glances. When she looked to him again, she saw he had paused in taking orders--he was talking to another mare, who both hugged him and pecked him on the cheek. He responded to that with an even more beautiful smile.

Riverjump turned her gaze back to the table, still fiddling with the salt. The colt came her way a minute later, but Riverjump didn’t look back to him until he was right by her table.

“Hey there--decided what you want, or do you need some recommendations?”

She glanced up to him, smiling as little as she could. She muttered, “I just need some coffee.”

It took a moment, but as he recognized her the smile he was just wearing came back. It faltered as he looked over her bandages, however, and he said, “Hi again. Glad to see you’re still around, but are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Riverjump blurted, glancing away. “It was an actual accident. It’s not related.”

He rubbed his neck, but kept smiling a little. “Well, I really am glad to see you’re still kicking. You said you just need a coffee?”

“Yeah,” Riverjump said. She opened her mouth again for a moment, considering whether or not to speak further. Though the colt stayed silent as he waited for her, she closed it again.

“I’ll go--”

“I thought you had lied to me,” she said after all, blushing.

He raised his eyebrows, but his expression didn’t otherwise change. “What?”

“I saw you at the sweet shop yesterday,” Riverjump explained. She lifted her hoof only a little toward the other mare, and said, “You said you were taking her, but she wasn’t with you.”

He glanced over to his lady, then back to Riverjump with a less enthused shrug. “Yeah, she couldn’t make it yesterday. Not that it would have made a difference, I guess.”

Riverjump’s cheeks flushed even brighter. “Well, that’s true. That was really terrible, what happened.”

The colt frowned and looked back toward his ladyfriend, her back turned from him. He looked at Riverjump and leaned in a bit as he said, “Honestly, I feel horrible for those poor folks that were still inside, but I feel even worse just thinking I’m going to profit off of their passing. I mean, they were my competitors. They had better recipes, too--their stuff is way better than mine. I wouldn’t be surprised if somepony comes asking me questions about what happened, if any foul play is discovered. I’d do the same.”

“No, yeah, I get it,” Riverjump said. She was glancing around anywhere but at the colt, and after a moment her gaze settled on the other mare. Riverjump nodded at her and stammered, “She seems nice.”

The colt’s expression warmed again, but not so much as just a minute ago. He said, “Oh, she’s a great girl, but...”

Riverjump looked back up to him, a familiar feeling coming back to the forefront of her mind.

The colt ruffled his own hair as he glanced at the other mare. He continued, “I mean, she really is sweet, but she has some ideas about how my business should grow, and she’s pretty stubborn when she tells me about them. It’s not that I mind her giving me some input, but, you know, she just goes pretty far with it. I don’t want to be some douche who doesn’t care about what his girl says, but I guess I’d say our relationship is in a rough patch.”

Riverjump had already tuned him out near the end of his spiel. She was back to staring at the table, a cold sweat working its way down to her hooves. She strained to keep her voice normal as she muttered, “Is it bad enough for you to want to break up with her?”

The colt cocked one eyebrow and started, “Uh--”

Riverjump’s eyes widened as it occurred to her how she had expressed her worry. She whipped her head back toward him and waved her hooves in front of her face, interrupting, “That really wasn’t what I meant to say at all. Pretend I never said that, just--never mind.”

Though the colt’s smile had wavered, he said, “Well, it’s nothing that serious. I’m sure we’ll find a way to work through it.”

He checked around at his other customers, then looked back to Riverjump. He leaned down a little as he said, “Hey. Despite that, you know where I work now, so come by anytime if you just need somepony to talk to. My name’s Cinnamon Buns.”

Riverjump looked away from him as she replied, “I’m Riverjump.”

Cinnamon leaned back up and chuckled, “Well, no need to live up to that. I’ll be back with your coffee in a few, all right? I’ve just got to go talk to my girl about something.”

He left again, and Riverjump offered a single wave of her hoof as goodbye, not that he saw it. She pulled the salt shaker closer to herself, slumping her chin onto the table right in front of it. She didn’t feel much for coffee anymore.

Another rump bumped into Riverjump’s and she flinched, but it was Ponytail taking a seat beside her. “Smallest town ever, huh? It’s really comfy. I can see why you never looked back.”

Riverjump raised her head at Ponytail, the former too tired to look happy for her acquaintance. Riverjump muttered, “That’s not why I left.”

“No, nope,” Ponytail said, raising a hoof in front of Riverjump’s mouth. “Not the line of conversation I wanted to start. I saw Hottie McAsshole in here, then I saw you chatting it up with him. How’d it go this time?”

Ponytail moved her hoof under her chin and rested on it as Riverjump sighed. “It’s not like that. I, um, didn’t even know he was in here.”

“Hmm,” Ponytail said. “Well, if you’re not focusing on him after all, then you better start thinking of where you’re taking me today. I’m leaving in just a couple days. As dinky as this place is, that’s enough time to see basically everywhere, right? Where do we start?”

“I haven’t really explored much yet, or ever,” Riverjump said, pushing the salt away. “I guess that’s pretty pathetic.”

Though Ponytail’s cheek was already stretched upward by her hoof, she grinned fully. “Yup.”

Riverjump accidentally smiled a little. The atmosphere of voices in the bakery was growing louder; Ponytail straightened up and tugged on Riverjump’s leg, pulling her out of the booth as she said, “Let’s go fix that, then.”

Riverjump willingly slid out of the booth and got up, but almost glanced back at Cinnamon again. She didn’t when she realized the raised voices were of both Cinnamon and his ladyfriend. Riverjump’s smile left ahead of her.

-

The sun set over all the town at once, of course, but somehow it always seemed to take a little bit longer in the park. A lone mare sat on a bench by the public garden, her hooves curled up underneath her as she watched the horizon grow too dark to see.

Riverjump was the first to stumble across her that night. She was about to walk by the mare, but instead of passing her Riverjump stopped and turned toward her. Though her voice wasn’t as clear as usual, Riverjump asked, “May I sit here?”

The mare eyed her, but even as she did she said, “Sure, have a seat.”

Riverjump slid up onto the open spot beside the mare and laid her head against the back of the bench. The mare pulled her own head back a bit and said, “You smell like wine. Bad day?”

“I feel like wine,” Riverjump mumbled. “Cold and empty.”

A corner of the mare’s mouth tilted downward, but she said, “I’m just waiting for somepony else to show up. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“I would like that,” Riverjump said. “You ever feel like everything’s beyond your control? Even yourself? I can’t even control my own feelings. That pisses me off, and I don’t want it to.”

The mare’s reaction didn’t show much on her face, but she tucked her hooves in a little closer and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Riverjump.”

The mare said, “My name is Liberty Belle. How’d you get all those bandages?”

Riverjump shrugged. “These were an accident. They’re the kind of thing that heal, anyway. I don’t care about them.”

“You should care more about your body,” Belle said. “Live longer and feel better about yourself.”

“Nah,” Riverjump drawled. “It won’t matter that much longer, don’t you worry. Not that--that didn’t come out right. I made it sound worse than it is.”

Belle, too, leaned her head against the bench. “Have you seen a doctor about the things going through your head right now?”

Riverjump narrowed her eyes and raised her voice a little. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m not stupid. It’s obvious this condition isn’t a one-night thing for you. No matter how--”

“It’s not worth it,” Riverjump said. “No one can help--”

Belle tapped a hoof over Riverjump’s mouth. “Don’t interrupt me. This is important. I don’t care how many ponies have already told you that you need help. I’m telling you again, right now, after being able to figure it out in a minute of conversation. You need the aid of a professional.”

Riverjump pushed away Belle’s hoof. Tears were welling up in her eyes again. She said, “I’ve thought about it…”

She sounded as if there was something else she wanted to say, but said nothing else. Belle frowned at her, then patted her on the shoulder. “Sleep helps, if nothing else. You should go home.”

Riverjump grinned and turned her gaze upward. “You know, tonight…”

She trailed off again, and Belle tucked her hoof back in. Riverjump’s grin didn’t falter this time, and she continued, “I went drinking again with the closest pony I have to a friend tonight, but not to drown my sorrows. Tonight I did it to be brave, because I’ve got to be really brave for this.”

Belle smiled, too, and looked away to the garden. She said, “Sounds like something I did once.”

Riverjump looked back to Belle. “Yeah?”

“I used to be a lot like you, until I met the right pony to pull me out of it,” Belle said. “You know how it goes when you’re at your worst. I only got through it after pulling together all my courage and asking him if he’d like to spend more significant time with me.”

Riverjump’s grin vanished. Belle kept gazing at the flowers and said, “Now, that hasn’t made it easy. I keep saying things to him I regret just a minute later, and I never own up to it in front of him, because I’m afraid I’d lose an edge that doesn’t even exist. We’re going through a rough patch right now, if--well, it’s not really a rough patch. It’s my own fault. He could crush my whole world if he ever didn’t forgive me.”

Belle looked back to Riverjump and frowned again as she found her companion turned away and wiping her cheeks. Belle put a hoof back on her shoulder and said, “Hey… I didn’t mean to drag you into my troubles. I’m sorry. He and I are just going to work through this, all right? We’ll be fine. So will you.”

Riverjump’s lips quivered as she kept wiping, though she hooves were too wet to be of use already. In between hiccups of whimpers, she said, “You’re not really like me, but that’s a good thing. I’m glad you’re not.”

Riverjump lowered her hooves as Belle rubbed her shoulder. Riverjump turned to her again, still sniffing, and smiled a little. Belle smiled back at her.

Riverjump raised her hoof to Belle’s head and then knocked her into the bench as hard as she could. Belle didn’t have time to react as her head bounced against the wood and she clattered off the bench entirely. Riverjump slid back off and began pulling Belle’s whole body over her back, panting at every step. The struggling pony muttered with each breath she had available, “Just don’t wake up--too soon! We’ll hide--all--night, until the sun gets a move on again.”

Heroic as she looked through her struggle, Riverjump’s walk was slow and heavy. She could only take a step forward every second, and not even her bravado could keep her fear at bay. She knew she wasn’t fast enough.

She heard more steps behind her, louder ones. Their sound wasn’t of clopping over the dirt road, but of pounding. Riverjump took wider steps, rushing herself, saying, “Please, please…”

She took too large a step forward and collapsed, Belle spilling off her back as they both fell onto their sides. Riverjump couldn’t catch her breath to try again. Her eyes were shut tight, crying hard, and she was still begging.

She rolled over onto her back, chest heaving and legs shaking, and opened her eyes. The monster stood right over her and Belle, hiding the entire sky from them. It looked bigger. Its eyes shone even brighter.

Riverjump only stared, her sweat all that moved. The monster tilted its head down toward her, not them, but just Riverjump, and smiled at her with the same beautiful smile she hated. Even through her sobbing, she could see it clearly.

It raised its leg out of the ground and stepped down on both the ponies below. Riverjump held her breath and braced her legs against the ground--but she wasn’t crushed. The monster’s hoof fell right through them, and Riverjump felt herself being raised up. She saw darkness no matter where she looked, except for Belle floating beside her.

Belle, alone, was burning up. Riverjump could make no audible protest, but only watch. Even as Riverjump reached for her, the two of them were too far. Belle’s skin, then all that underneath it, burned noiselessly until all that was left was her skeleton. When that was done, the two of them floated back down to the ground and landed softly upon it.

The monster lifted its hoof away from them and stepped back. It turned around, not looking to them again, and went back the way it came.

Even Riverjump’s bandages lay untouched. As her whole body shook, she pushed herself onto her hooves and stumbled over to Belle’s form, falling to her knees over her.

“Please…” Riverjump whispered, “just let it end for me, too…”

-

Someone had already knocked thrice on the door of Ponytail’s motel room was able to get there. She trotted over to it without her signature ponytail, as she had been in the middle of brushing her hair before bed. She shuffled a hoof through her bangs to get them off her face, then pulled the door open.

Riverjump stood outside, her face tilted toward the dirt. Tears streamed down her chin, dripping below her. She turned her head upward, her eyes red and puffy. Ponytail’s only expression was raising her eyebrows slightly. Riverjump sniffed and whimpered, and Ponytail lifted one open hoof.

Riverjump took it and grasped Ponytail around the shoulders, the whimpers cracking into sobs. The smell of alcohol on the sobbing pony’s breath was still heavy, but Ponytail stroked Riverjump’s mane in between pushing back her own. Riverjump held on for some time.