What I Want
My fingers are curled around the bars of my room that separate me from my window. I’ve been taught all the common parts of the human body so I can figure out just what I’m in control of. It’s another reminder of the difference between what I thought I was and what I am. It’s helped me adjust to thinking completely human.
I’m going to ask him today. I know he’ll probably say no but I have to ask him. It can’t hurt me to chance it. The worst he can do...is say no and keep me here. I let go of the bars and walk back to my dresser in the room I lived in before I stayed with Charlotte for a while. Yeah, she visits, but I’ve only seen her three or four times these past six months.
I’ve accepted that I’m Ashlyn and have stayed that way for half a year already. Why am I still here? I have memories even. I know Dr. Cruebel is concerned that they are only false memories but even so...I’ve accepted that I’m human. Isn’t that enough? Can I really help that my dreams as so...frantic? It’s an odd word but I suppose it fits. My dreams jump from drowning, to Equestria, to nightmares central to here. Either the place is on fire, the place is abandoned, or I’m walking the halls of a house I have never seen while crashing comes from somewhere on my floor. I know there are other variations but I can’t remember them. When I believed myself to be Celestia I never forgot my dreams. I guess that means I’m not an alicorn anymore then? I smile bitterly and pull my hair back into a ponytail. I desperately need to cut it. Short hair was easier to take care of and less...flowy and everywhere.
I open my door and lean out to look down the hall at its clock. I still have plenty of time to walk to meet with Dr. Cruebel. I’ve spent every last day wondering why he won’t put me into group therapy. Am I still that dangerous? There are patients here who can bite another human without a second thought and they’re scared of me? That’s just messed up.
I duck back inside my room and close the door. My fingers trace the scar on my shoulder through my sweater. It’s healed considerably, but the scar is still easily felt. Some scars just stay prominent for longer, I suppose. I’m sure I’ll never be able to forget her face when she came snarling at me like some rabid animal. I still shrink back involuntarily whenever I think of it. How did she even get up here?
For crying out loud, why do I keep asking the same questions again and again? Do I expect myself to answer them? I don’t care if I’m early; I’ve been in this room too long and I’m going to Dr. Cruebel now. I have to get out of here. I know I should check my pillow but I...I can’t right now. I don’t know why but I just can’t.
I find the door opened a crack and nobody is inside yet. I enter, sit in my normal chair, feeling tension in my back, and watch the clock opposite of me, feeling its every tick behind the cage that protects its glass. His chair is empty. He would probably scold me for sitting by myself in the dark. He’d say that and I’d look away like I always do because...I can’t look him in the eye when he is patient with me. I know I’m weak...I’m human. That’s the explanation: I’m just human.
The lights startle me. It almost hurts to turn my head. I’m way too tense. When I do turn my head Dr. Cruebel is standing by the door with an eyebrow raised almost comically.
“You’re really not supposed to be here by yourself.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he sits down on the edge of his seat, leaning towards me. I look into his face again, remembering the time I noticed just how many different colors of brown were in his eyes.
What is wrong with me?
“I...I’m sorry I’m here early, the door was opened and I thought it would be alright.” I hesitated for a while before I finally spoke again, “When can I go home?”
It’s the way he looks at me that answers my question: I’m not even close to leaving. He still confirms with his voice what I can clearly see on his face.
“Ashlyn, it’s not that you haven’t made considerable progress. I’m just not certain it’s safe for you to go home by yourself.”
“Please...isn’t there still some family I have left? Isn’t there someone back in my old life that could help me just in case something does go wrong again? Isn’t there...isn’t there...something?”
As I look up at him I break into yet more tears. I’ve been crying for days and thought i could face anything. He reaches for the tissue box but tissues solve nothing no matter how many boxes I cry though.
“Ashlyn...” he says, holding the box out to me. Instead of swiping a tissue like I normally do I bring myself to look him directly in the eye. He looks surprised and sets the box down on the table.
“You’re not going to let me leave are you? No matter how well I get you still won’t let me go. I’m sick of crying and going back to a room that’s supposed to be temporary. I don’t belong here. I can tell. The feeling grows more stifling each day. Can’t I...” I sigh when he stares at me, lost for words, apparently, “Nevermind. I’m sorry...” I stand up and walk around the chair to the door.
“Ashlyn!” Dr. Cruebel’s voice stops me before I can even reach for the handle. I hear him stand up and approach me. I feel so stupid. How old am I and I’m throwing a hissy fit? Real mature, Ashlyn.
“May I please leave?” I ask.
“Ashlyn, look at me.” I obey, “What makes you so desperate to go home? What do you want there? I thought you had no memories of your old home.”
“I...I don’t know. Sometimes I think I will never remember. Other times. I find my mind drifting away when I’m bored and...I see it.
‘It’s a white house; a white house on the edge of the woods with stables and hills everywhere. I can almost see Nutmeg, my horse, running from the shade of a maple tree to greet me as I drive up the winding driveway. It’s often foggy in the morning. The mornings are so cold in the summer with fog from the Delaware spilling over farmland. Of course it’s humid and buggy by lunch but every morning it’s beautiful to watch the sun paint the fog. You just see these beams of light that—”
“How are you remembering this?” he asks, incredulous.
“I don’t know,” I say, leaning against the molding around the door, “It’s almost like I’m speaking without thinking. Everything is there, inside my head, and it’s just coming out when I least expect it. Maybe it’s because I keep thinking about it and imagining what I want when I get home again.”
“What do you want?” he asks, almost as if he’s curious. I hesitate but decide nothing is wrong or embarrassing about what I’ve been thinking of.
“The truth is: I want a family. I always have, even when I thought I was Celestia I wanted a family. Luna was that in some way. I—more than anything—I wanted to have a child. Someone I could love unconditionally. I want a husband who can be there. I want a home. I have a pretty house and Nutmeg is good company, but I don’t speak horse and...I just want more than I have.”
“You never mentioned that you wanted to be a mother before. Even when you were convinced—“
“Yeah, the desire was there too. I think that’s why I had strong emotional attachment to Twilight. I would adopt other ponies as my nieces and nephews. But, of all of them, she was the one I was certain I would want to have as my daughter if I was able to adopt her. She’s...she was so much like me. I just wanted a family I could call mine.“
“Was there someone you wanted to be with? To have a family with?”
“That’s a past that I’m not going back to.” I say quickly.
“Was there someone?” he asks gently. I grip the door handle. He doesn’t prevent me.
“No.” I say. I can hear the tension of the silence before it snaps with his voice.
“Really? No one was interested in you?” I look him in the eye. My brain is going crazy again and I want to push him away from me. There is something in me that I block. I know what it is but I don’t need to consider on it. I should just walk back to the chair and forget this conversation. But my response comes out before I can talk myself into being quiet.
“A man being interested in a woman doesn’t automatically make her interested in him.”
I didn’t realize he was leaning forward until he straightened up after I said that. Something I said hit him. I’m not sure how it hit him or how powerful a strike it was. For a while he was speechless.
“A fair point,” he said, raising his eyebrows and turning himself towards the chair, “Well, since that’s all settled. Why don’t we talk a little more about your real memories?” He gestures at my chair after he sits down in his own. I debate leaving; just turning the handle and closing the door behind me. But, do I really have the choice to say no?
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uncanny
1912517 ...Very
Introductory phrases of four or more words require a comma to separate it from the main clause. Thus, comma after "loud"
Anywho:
Let the mindgames begin?
1912565 Yep, more headache time...but keep in mind that all mind games must come to an end...no matter how much fun that can be.
and thanks for the correction.
I kind of like how this story differs from believing stories in that it is less of a chaotic mind state type thing. As a note I kind of feel like you haven't explained what is going on with the pillow which if I had not read Believing Stories, I feel like I would be missing that. I don't know if this is intended or not but just thought I'd note it.
1913686 Don't worry, it will be explained
now who is the one guy who is mentioned in the series that has met Celestia? (outside Shining Armour)
fc00.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/297/c/1/scheming_sweetie_by_alisonwonderland1951-d5itr32.png
wait if cruebel is discord and he was shocked when she said that does it mean discord has a crush on celestia? I am confused
he needs eyebrows lol
i love this story, cant wait until next chapter!
1915149 They're hard to see here. But what looks like shadows from his glasses are his eyebrows. You can see it a little more easily with his left eye than his right one. Glad you're enjoying it
To be 100% honest, i like the original Believing Stories more. Why, do you ask??. Well, with the original BI i couldnt tell where the story was going. Even at the end you couldnt say what really happened or what world was the real one. In change, you can see whats going on this story and you can tell which world is the real one. Doesnt make it a bad fid though, its really good aswell ^^ I hope you give me a surprise later :p
1920965 You are allowed to like what you wish
I still hope I can surprise you in the end.
1921024 I know you will ^^
Btw, that comment had a lot of typos, fixed.
1921031 lol. Not a problem.
Whoa... he does look like Discord...
1912532 Holy shit!!! Discord is Liam Nesson!