And the Music Died

by GjallarFox

Scratched Up

She sat down staring off into space through two walls, a door, a window, and a seventeen-foot thick cloud. She couldn't see past that first wall, but she could still feel the empty void she stared into clawing at her heart and mind. She'd lost the love of her life and all she could think about was how empty she felt. Why wasn't she crying? Why wasn't she screaming into her pillow about how it wasn't fair? Was Octavia right?

Vinyl picked herself off of her bed and walked out into her apartment's pseudo kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee, not even bothering to add her usual hot cocoa mix, or even milk or sugar. She just poured black coffee into a ceramic mug. She didn't use magic like she normally did. Unfortunately for her, this deviance from her routine made her spill a great deal of the precious black liquid over the counter and floor, some of which ended up on her. There were a few curses let out under her breath, but aside from that, no fucks were given. How could she give a fuck anymore? The only pony who genuinely made her feel like caring about anything was worth it was gone now. She wasn't going to come back ever. And the words she said to Vinyl made that point far too clear.

I hate you!

Did you ever really care at all?

You're a fucking psychopath! How are you not crying right now?!

Vinyl shook the echoes of Octavia's voice from her mind and tried to refocus her senses on the coffee. She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip of her drink and tried to focus on the taste. But the coffee passed over her lips and tongue without leaving the slightest hint of bitterness behind. The taste was dulled in her mouth, and the warmth was nullified. Her inability to feel any sort of emotion amplified itself with the echoes in her mind of Octavia's voice, manifesting as true numbness.

When did you actually give up?

Stop lying. I need the truth, Vinyl.

She set her mug back down on the counter and walked away, heading back into her room and closing the door behind her. Normally, there would be some sort of music playing. She always had some record playing, filling her small studio with sound and magic and life. She'd turned it off just an hour ago to talk to Octavia through video chat, and the will to turn it back on had yet to return.

Fuck you! You're just like my ex!

Vinyl plopped back on her bed, staring out the window at the night sky and realizing for the first time that it was black without stars, and the moon was nowhere to be seen. She wished she could take it all back, unsay everything and just start over. She wished she could go back and make sure that Octavia knew just how much she cared, and how much she loved her. But she knew that would never happen. It couldn't happen. The past couldn't be changed, and consequences had to be borne in silence and solemnity.

As of that moment, with the off silence coming from her apartment, no one knew the real Vinyl Scratch. They didn't know what she cared about, or what she wanted out of life, or what she thought about things, or what she felt. No one in the world truly understood her pain, and for the first time in years, Vinyl felt truly alone and hopeless.

It was then that she felt her eyes well up with the pressure of tears, but she couldn't let them out. She curled up into a tight ball, pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in the gap to hide herself.

For a while, all she could do was lie there in her bed, staring off into space, wondering when her mind would finally finish processing the pain and let her cry, or even if it would. Such wounds don't heal until they've been closed, and they can't close until the mind truly understands the wound is there.

------

She woke up late. She didn't usually wear pajamas to bed because she tended to overheat in them. But last night, she'd simply forgotten to take them off before falling asleep. She wasn't even sure it was even sleep. It just seemed more like she forgot a few hours and finally regained lucidity.

She woke up late. The bell tower tolled three and the sun began peeking through the blinds and stabbing her eyes with knives of light. The sun also heated up her room enough to wake her up drenched in sweat, making her normally loose and comfortable pajamas feel like an ill-fitting swimsuit. She pulled herself from her bed and arched her back, listening to it crack and pop like a drummer was hitting the rims of his drums with the sticks. She then took a step forward and immediately stubbed her toe on something on her messy floor. She cursed a bit and stepped over the offending object, which just so happened to be a cello case.

"Hurting me physically too? Fuck me, I guess..." she mumble to herself. She wanted nothing more than to just walk off a bridge or something, but her pride refused to allow her. She was, after all, a survivalist. She'd survived countless years of her depression. What was this but another wave on a beach? She'd been through worse. She'd stood on the metaphorical bridge and looked down but didn't jump. She'd put the gun to her head and pulled the trigger knowing the chamber was empty. She was a survivor.

But survival wasn't always a victory. While she hid away, trying to gather her strength to go on living, the depression grew.

She woke up late, and walked to the kitchen after stubbing her pinkie toe on a cello case and poured herself a cup of coffee, this time adhering to her normal routine. That was the thing about her. Her mind was in a sense too stable to falter, too grounded in her illness for anything to break her. She couldn't get her head in the clouds because she was stuck on the ground, and she couldn't get off the ground because she was the ground. Even the harshest trauma could only crack her, but she could never break.

She woke up late and walked into the kitchen after stubbing her toe on a cello case and poured herself a makeshift mocha in her insulated metal travel mug. She put a spoonful of hot cocoa mix in the bottom of the cup and poured the coffee over it before adding milk, and stirred it all together with a butter knife because her spoons were too short to reach the bottom of the mug. As she stirred, her mind wandered back to the echoes of Octavia's voice.

I love you so much Vinyl...

I hate you! How could you do this‽

Say something...

"Get out of my head... It's crowded enough with just me..." Vinyl muttered as she took her first sip of her coffee. She proceeded to set her mug down and head into her pantry, grabbing a pack of Pop Tarts from the box and putting them into her toaster. For about a minute, she just sat and sipped at her coffee, listening to the echoes of Octavia, wishing she could go back and fix everything.

The toaster popped. She didn't notice at first, but then the smell of warm cinnamon turned her head to look at the food waiting for her.

"Fucking hell, Vinyl," she murmured to herself, taking another sip, "wasting Po-tarts again... Why the fuck do I even bother cooking when I know I'm not hungry?"

A glance at the clock on her microwave told her that it was eleven thirty-five in the morning. She'd planned on going to Sunbucks with her friends while they were in town at twelve, but in her head she debated canceling under the cover of illness and going back to bed. She wanted to see her friends and knew that their company would be good for her, that talking to them would help her clear the echoes of her now-ex from her mind. But she would have to actually shower and put on clothes and shoes and walk over to Sunbucks and put on a fake smile and pretend she was fine. And she knew that she didn't have to do those last two in front of her friends, but at the same time, she did. She was always the resilient one in the group. She was the strong one. She was always the rock her friends depended on to keep stable. Why show weakness now?

After ten minutes of debating, she finally decided to get ready to go get coffee with her friends. She grabbed a sweater from a chair in her room, and a matching pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a bra or underwear simply because she didn't have the energy to deal with either of these things. She then checked to make sure she had the key to her apartment and her phone and wallet, and most importantly, her signature shades.

Outside the sun was shining, and Vinyl hated how the warmth felt on her face. She pulled up the hood on her jacket and stuffed her hands in her pockets, tilting her head down to prevent the light from touching her. Usually, she wasn't so averse to the sun. She'd just keep her glasses on and tolerate it. But now it felt like a beacon of happiness and hope, taunting her with its light. Now it just hurt to think about anything, but happiness hurt more.

She arrived at Sunbucks right on time, walking in and ordering her coffee with her face without saying a word even before she'd taken her place in the near nonexistent line. Every barista who worked this particular Sunbucks knew Vinyl by name, face, and order, and so they started her drink upon seeing her enter. She stepped up to the counter, offering the barista a quick "good morning" and disguising her pain as a lack of caffeine in her system. And it certainly tricked the barista. The pink-maned pony in question bid her a good day and a wish for her coffee to help her feel better.

She grabbed her coffee from the counter and sat down at a table on the outside patio, waving to her friends as she noticed them approaching. They waved back, wordlessly letting her know that they were going to get their own coffee before sitting down with her. In the meantime, she sat and listened to the echoes...

Author's Note:

Hey guys. So I'm sure you've noticed that this is definitely outside my usual purview of Twishy or Sci-Fi, so I guess a short explanation is in order.

This story is a catharsis piece. This is based on something that happened in my life, and I wanted to record my experience without it being too revealing, hence I ponified it. For those of you who've been waiting for further updates to my other stories, like Light of Harmony, Blind, Côte d'Azur, etc, I deeply apologize for my shitty update times. I can't do much about it.

Hope you guys enjoy the read.

</3 DarqFox

Comments

[Thunder-Bolt]

That title made me think of this song:

[FallBlau]

That was sad and very realistic in its depiction of depression after a breakup.

Very well written, and moving.