Where My Demons Hide

by regulator133

Just Like Every Other Night

Where My Demons Hide
By: Regulator133
Chapter One: Just Like Every Other Night

Everything was black. I saw nothing, I heard nothing. There was a smoky smell in the air. My hearing returned slowly, and I began hearing the screams of my comrades. I felt a hoof wrap around my torso and pull me. I opened my eyes and was met with an intense white light. Shielding my eyes with a hoof, I looked up at the pony dragging me along the ground. He was obviously a kid, no older than 18. He propped me against the wall of the building we were inside of and looked me over, as if I had injuries. A second later, a bullet flew through his neck, coating me in his blood. Then, everything went black again.

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I shot up from my restless sleep. I was soaked in sweat, yet again, and breathing harder than somepony who had just sprinted the running of the leaves. I tried in vain to steady my breathing as I tried to cleanse my mind of the dream. No, not a dream, a memory. A horrible, mind-scarring memory.

I'd been having these nightmares since the day I was discharged from the Equestrian Royal Army six weeks prior. Since then, I hadn't gotten a full nights sleep, and tonight was just like every other night. I looked at my alarm clock 1:37 it read. I had to wake up for work in less than four hours, but I couldn't sleep. I needed to forget, to escape.
I got out of bed, standing on shaky hooves for a few moments before slowly making my way down to the barn. My cousins Applejack and Big Macintosh were kind enough to let me live and work on their farm. I insisted on finding somewhere in town to live, but they wouldn't hear it.

I made it to the barn and walked directly to the stack of hay bales in the back stall. I searched inside of the far left bale until I found what I was looking for, one of my hidden bottles of whiskey. I had them hidden all over the farm. I needed them for times like this. I was too ashamed to tell my cousins, though. I unscrewed the cap hastily, and took a swig of the liquid. It gave a small burning sensation in the back of my throat. I continued taking large sips until there was nothing left in the bottle. I took the bottle outside and buried it behind the barn.
By the time I got to my room, I was starting to feel the desired effects from the alcohol. The world started getting hazy, and I was having trouble standing up. I fell onto my bed and lie there for a few minutes. I then reached over to my bedside table and opened the drawer on it. I pulled out a single framed picture. It was of me and my best friends before we shipped out to Zebrica, four years ago. I don't know if it was the alcohol or not, but I started sobbing lightly looking at the picture. The sobbing grew in intensity, until I was bawling my eyes out, soaking the sheets on my bed. After about fifteen minutes of crying, I exhausted myself and fell into another restless sleep.

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I woke in the early hours of dawn, just like every other day. Today, however, was different. I felt completely exhausted. I didn’t feel like getting up, and I had a splitting headache from all of the alcohol I drank last night. My eyes were dry from all of the tears shed looking at the picture of my departed friends.

I slowly dragged myself out of bed, groaning at every movement. I reached a hoof up to massage my temples, hoping to alleviate some of the excruciating headache. I had no success in this technique, and was rewarded with the pounding of drums inside my skull. I dragged myself to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. I decided to make the stream extremely cold, and stuck my head directly beneath it. It succeeded in relieving my headache partially, but the pounding was still very prominent. I turned the temperature up slightly, so it was bearable for the rest of my body, before stepping into the cascade. Although usually a relaxing experience to me, I made the shower quick before pulling myself out and drying off. I looked at myself in the mirror, and was slightly surprised at what I saw. My eyes were partially bloodshot, I’d assume from crying for a good portion of last night, and I looked as if I hadn’t slept in days. I had bags under my eyes, and a stare that could defeat even Fluttershy’s stare.

After standing at staring at myself for a good five minutes, I trudged downstairs for breakfast.
I walked into the dining room, and sat down at the table. My cousins were sitting there already, and Applejack was kind of shocked when she saw me.

“What happened to ya Bandit? Ya look like ya done got hit by a train!” Applejack exclaimed when I sat down. Big Macintosh followed with his signature “Eeeyup.”

“I feel like I got hit with a damn train.” I said, a little bitterly. I picked up the apple at my place on the table, and took a bite out of it. It tasted plain to me, and I spit it out of my mouth. “It was bad last night. Worst it’s ever been.” I said as I threw the apple away.

“Ah can tell cousin. Ya know what, I want ya ta take today off. Relax and recover, then come back tomorrow.” Applejack said. Big Mac nodded in agreement with his sister.

“Thank you, Applejack.” I muttered. I picked my stetson off of the back of my chair, where it stayed while I was at home, and trotted out of the door.

I walked through the orchard until I got to the entrance to Sweet Apple Acres. I trotted at a moderate pace, not in any hurry since I had the day off, toward town. My destination: the bar.

Comments

[Neon Pegasus]

Very Interesting

[-Brutus]

Already shaping up to be sad story, awaiting for next chapter.