Broken

by Bicyclette

Chapter 5

Something was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Shining was in… some sort of hospital. He didn’t recognise it. He tried to reach out, to get out of the bed, feeling resistance. He was… he was strapped down to the gurney, dressed in one of those gown-things. An IV had been inserted into one of his forelegs.

Why? Why was he here?

He looked around cautiously. Nopony was in sight, and the room was dark. The hallway outside was dark, too. The only light to be seen was cast by the medical machines around him.

Perhaps this, too, was a dream. A dream, inside a dream, inside a dream. How far did the cookie crumble? How deep inside the labyrinth had he wandered? He really couldn’t say.

But… what if this were real? He tried to think. Tried to remember something, anything.

He remembered a tree. A picnic basket. A maple tree, upon a hill. Royal Glen Park, in Canterlot. The leaves there were the colour of an auburn mane, a very familiar auburn mane... how many ponies did he know who had auburn manes? He… he couldn’t remember them.

Something had happened. Something had put him here, in the hospital, strapped to a gurney without his memories. He needed to try and put together what it was.

And Shining wouldn’t manage that, all cooped up in here. He needed to talk to his parents, talk to Twilight, maybe a doctor or a nurse if he could find one.

He tested his limbs against the straps; they didn’t have much give. No matter, all he had to do was use his--

He stopped himself, a moment too late. Dots of light crossed his vision, like fireflies -- and then a sort of fuzziness took over his head, starting from the back of his skull. It spread like fire, intensifying, overpowering all attempts to think… all he felt was pain.

Eventually, it began to subside. His thoughts returned, his muscles quivering. He’d been clenching them. His head still throbbed. It felt like he’d been drinking again, but he was as sober as a rock.

Shining couldn’t use his magic, he’d… he’d broken his horn, somehow. It had something to do with the tree, with a pony who had an auburn mane. It all felt like a veiled metaphor he didn’t have enough information to understand yet.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to leave. Now.

His frustration mounted. How could they do this, leave him here? Alone? What the hell had he ever done to them, huh? Shining snarled. He would be free, he just needed to work for it.

He shifted from side to side, rocking the gurney. It tipped one way, then the other. He desperately threw his weight, trying to send it tumbling over.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt the gurney come crashing down, knocking a tray of scalpels to the ground. There was a sharp pain as the IV needle was ripped out of his leg. Now he could… yes! The strap on one leg had loosened enough for him to squeeze his hoof out. He managed to unstrap his other legs, and he came to his hooves.

Now, he was free. Now he could get out of here. But… something else bothered Shining. How could he be certain that this wasn’t a delusion, that this wasn’t a dream? Who knows what damage could have been done, besides his broken horn?

Twilight had said something once… about dreams. If you had control, then there was one thing you could always do to help figure it out. What was it, again?

Words. That was it. Find something to read. In a dream, words had no meaning. One word looked much the same as another. But… if you had control, you could consciously read the same thing multiple times. Each time, it would say something different.

That sounded like Twilight, always figuring out something clever.

He looked around the room, trying drawers, and cabinets. All locked. No labels. No posters. Nothing. Even on the medical equipment, there was nothing. Oddly convenient for his dream-self, then. Nothing was here to help disprove his reality.

Did that mean it was still a dream? Or perhaps it was merely some cleverly constructed ruse? Manipulating him, trying to break him down? Well, it wouldn’t work. He’d get out of here, be it by waking up or by smashing a window.

With nothing to lose, he opened the door.

The hallway? It was a mess. Crates and dollies lined the walls. More gurneys were scattered around, abandoned. Monitors and stands had been thrown to the side, leaving a walkable path in the middle. Above all this was the pervasive stench of spilled chemicals.

And rust.

As well as a scent he recognised immediately as blood.

“How could you?” asked a familiar voice. They were angry, furious with him. Shining turned, and for a moment he saw… a mane with streaks of auburn.

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone.

He knew that pony. He knew their words. He’d heard them a lot, recently. Far too often for comfort. Something had happened. Something… because of him.

Shining rubbed his forehead. For a moment, it felt like the pain had eased.

What choice had he had? It had been him or them, and if he hadn’t--

If he hadn’t--

No, it was not use. He still couldn’t remember.

It filled him with a sense of dread.

Taking a deep breath, he looked down the hallway. He could only focus on one thing at a time. He’d figure out what he’d done, one way or another.

Shining took a tentative step forward.

Author's Note:

by Fiddlescotch