A friendship with a little blonde pegasus slowly progresses into something very, very uncomfortable for Anonymous.
This story seems to be a kind of hit-and-miss deal. You're going to hate it or you're going to love it. Or maybe both. Comments have spoilers.
You never know what to expect when you meet someone. Sometimes, they appear to be rather pleasant, and you invite them into your life. Other times, something is very off about them, and you decide that it would be in your best interests not to associate with them.
Or, both happen. In this case, things can go very badly.
A warning for those who don't like AiE: this story is told from the second person perspective, with 'you' as Anonymous.
"A yandere is a person who tends to start out sweet and loving, but that love becomes twisted and violent, abusive. This is normally characterized in murderous insanity - especially when they feel rejected, or when they overreact to the presence of their same sex/others they consider to be trying to take the person from them, even if nothing like that was going on ever." – Comment posted by Aurora Dimmet
Originally written for the Obsessed Pony Thread on /mlp/.
Jazzaman gives this review a 'den outta den.' Check out his review here.
Also, if anyone knows who the artist behind this cover photo is, please direct me to them so I can confirm that it's okay for me to use their work.
Today, you're on your way through the market. There are ponies by and behind stalls, ponies milling about, ponies just about everywhere.
Some familiar faces smile and wave. A particular orange-maned mare spots you from afar, and gives you a toothy grin.
You do like this particular pony.
You feel a slight tugging at the corners of your lips, parting them slightly so that a sliver of white shows. Carrot Top wiggles her brow playfully, gesturing for you to come on over to her stall. You, of course, are all too happy to oblige
“Hey, Anon,” the carrot farmer calls out. As you approach, you notice something behind her – it looks to you like a grey butt and a blonde tail wiggling around in the air, although you can't tell for sure since... well, it's a grey butt with a blonde tail sticking out of a box. You must put that aside for the moment, however, as there are more important things to attend to.
“Hey, Carrot,” you greet her in turn. There is momentary eye contact – and then Carrot Top quickly distracts herself with rearranging her carrots.
“So, Mister Anonymous...” she says, her head hidden from view as she ducks behind the counter. A few beats later and she reappears wearing a pretty hat. It's made out of straw, with a few flowers embedded on the outside. It suits her nicely. “What are you up to today?”
You prepare one of your world-famous subtle lines by Anon. “Just coming by the market to pick up some food when I saw your...” Your eyes begin to focus on what's behind her, causing you to pause mid-sentence. You, however, miraculously manage to pick off where you left off. “...pretty...”
It's hard to be smooth when there's a bubble-emblazoned butt still squirming around in the air just within your field of vision. Carrot Top picks up on your unfocused eyes, following them until she finally notices her friend.
“Oh! Uhm...” She blushes, looking back and forth between the two of you undecidedly, before quickly trotting up to the other mare.
“Derpy, what are you – Are you okay?”
Bubble Butt seems to have gotten herself stuck halfway inside a crate. She attempts to free herself by pushing on the side of the box with her hind legs, but if the past few minutes are anything to go by, the effort is futile.
“Uh, do you need help?” you ask, already making your way to the back of the stall.
“I-it's fine,” Carrot Top says, shaking her head. “This happens a lot, it's no big deal, really.”
“I'm okay!” a muffled voice calls out from within. “I think I might just need a little bit of help, though. Just a little!”
“Alright. Uh...”
As she really is just an ass sticking out of a crate, the dilemma of where to put your hands while pulling a pony out of a box has made its presence known. There's nowhere you can really grab that won't be uncomfortable for either party involved, except...
“Here. Just hold still, little pony.”
The two legs cease their struggling. You grab one in each hand, and, quite easily, lift blondie out of the box.
“Whew.” She wipes the sweat from her forehead, still hanging by her hind legs. In an admittedly boyish voice, she says, “I just don't know what went wrong.”
You set the grey pony down. She smiles up at you in this funny way. Funny because, well... she seems to have a lazy eye. No, not seems – she actually has a really bad lazy eye. Like, one that causes you to expect some kind of mental condition from her.
You really shouldn't judge. One side of her face looks intelligent, at least.
Carrot Top is quick to make introductions. She stands between the two of you, holding out a hoof that gestures to each of you in turn.
“Ditzy, this is Anonymous. Anon, Ditzy.”
As Ditzy holds out her hoof, you find it rather hard not to stare at just how badly skewed her right eye is. Nevertheless, you take her outstretched hoof.
“Nice to meet you, Ditzy,” you say, pointedly keeping your smile at a polite size.
“You can just call me Derpy!” she chirps. “Most of my friends do.”
You wonder why.
----------
The next day, you're up bright and early.
Why? Because mornings are great, of course! They're the start of a mysterious, exciting new day!
Knock knock!
Speaking of which, you wonder who’s at the door. You set down your piece of toast and make your way to the door, coffee mug still in hand.
“Special delivery package for Mister Anon – ”
The mare you now recognize as Derpy gasps as she realizes who stands before her. You, ever the calm, collected guy, just lean against the door frame and take a sip from your mug.
“Howdy, Derpy. Didn't know you were my mailmare.” “I- I didn't know, either,” she admits, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. “And you'd think I would have recognized you, since you're – you're – ”
You decide to answer for her. “Kind of hard to miss?”
“Y-Yeah.” The head rubbing continues, except with the added extra of a blush. “No offense.”
“Don't worry about it.” You smile, taking your own hand and mussing up Derpy's mane. She looks up at you in wonder, and her blush deepens.
“Anyway,” you start, eying the package by your doormat, “what's this?”
The blondie seems to be snapping out of a trance. “Oh! Um, this!” She picks up the package with one hoof, holding it out to you. “It's for you!”
You chuckle as you take the box. “Yeah, I can see that. Do I need to sign something, or...?”
Her ears perk up, and she starts looking for something. “Oh, yeah! Let me just... Grr, where did I put that clipboard?”
She looks through her saddlebags, then lifts up one of her hooves to check underneath her, before taking glances back from whence she came and yelling, “Shoot! I think I dropped it somewhere! Uh...” She prances nervously on her hooves for a moment, before bolting off in another direction. “Be right back!”
You watch with morbid fascination as she flies headfirst into a tree trunk, and then after dizzily walking in circles for a minute finally shoots off into the sky again. Numerous postcards are left behind in her wake, and you can only shake your head before taking your package inside, along with the clipboard left on top of it.
----------
The next few days, for the most part, go by pretty uneventfully. You haven't seen much of Carrot, but Derpy shows up knocking at your door every morning to deliver your mail.
One morning, you decide to ask how Carrot is doing. As you learned the first day you met the bubble mare, Carrot Top and Derpy are roommates.
“Carrot?” Derpy asks, tilting her head in question. “Why do you want to know about Carrot?”
Oblivious to this, you just sip your coffee and present your reason quite plainly. “Well, I just haven't really seen much of her lately... I was gonna ask if she was doing anything this weekend.”
Upon hearing this, Derpy suddenly looks hurt. Her ears flatten out against the sides of her head, and her eyes turn downcast. “So all that time... we spent together... It meant nothing to you?”
“What?”
The mailmare sullenly turns away, dragging along her bag with her as letters fall to the ground like dead leaves. You're left standing in your door, thoroughly and utterly confused. Guilt tinges the edges of your mind, as well.
Why did she respond that way? Did you say something wrong...?
----------
Tissues... check.
Hoof moisturizer... check.
Open magazine full of Equestrian beauties... check.
You've never actually gotten it on with a pony before.
It took you awhile to even consider becoming attracted to them. Interspecies erotica, more commonly known as bestiality or zoophilia where you were from, was considered one of the most taboo acts to possibly commit.
Now, you're in a land where this same act is not only accepted, but quite common. This, along with the fact that your balls have nearly become smurf-blue over the past two years, convinced you to let go of your previous mindset, and explore what the animal-like denizens of Equestria – and beyond – had to offer.
Being the softy that you are, you'd like your first doggy-style in this world to be with somepony special. This, and this alone – not because you don't have game, or anything like that – is the sole reason why you've yet to get yourself a taste of that sweet pony vag. Still, you've whacked it off to ponies many times before, and have once again made it part of your daily ritual.
You feel your pants becoming tight as you browse through the many pages of the magazine. You imagine yourself pounding away at a particular mare's supple tush, grabbing hold of each cutiemark and... Oh yeah, you're ready. You undo the button and begin to unzip your pants, ready to unleash the beast from its cage and –
Kock knock knock!
You groan, zipping your jeans back up and buttoning them again before slipping all your fapping supplies back under the bed.
“Coming!” you call with a hint of frustration as you waddle to the front door.
You unlatch and open it, revealing the little gray pony that had run off earlier this morning. You're not used to seeing her without her mailmare uniform on – it's kind of cute to see her dressed like that, really.
“Hey, Derpy.”
“Hey, Anon. You wanna hang out? Can I come in?”
Normally, your little friend would be perfectly fine – no, welcome to come enter your humble abode. Right now, however, your balls are starting to ache, and little Anon is still very eager to come out and play.
“Uh, not right now, okay Derpy?” You force a smile so as to not seem hostile.
“Oh?” She cocks her head. “Why not?”
Bitch, when someone says 'not now,' you're not supposed to question it, you're supposed to scram.
“I'm just a little busy, Derpy...”
“With what?”
You grit your teeth, holding back your frustration. “I'm kind of tired right now, y'know? I had a long day at work and stuff. I was just sleeping when you knocked on my door...”
Bullshit.
“...and after that I need to clean up my house and stuff. Y'know, things that are really kind of boring.”
“Oh, okay. Can I wait inside then?”
Why won't she take a damn hint?!
“Listen, Derpy.” You breathe in deeply. “If you want to watch me jack off and sleep for half an hour, I invite you to come right on in.”
“Okay, I'm coming in.”
Before you know it, the pony has forced her way into your house, leaving you both flabbergasted and very annoyed at yourself for not leaving the door latched when you opened it.
You close the door and lock it, then proceed to walk back into your room where you know Derpy has gone.
“Hey, Anon, what's this?” she asks when you walk inside. She holds up a note, and you squint your eyes to read it. Upon realizing which particular note it is, they snap wide open in surprise. You immediately snatch the paper away from Derpy.
“Wow, you saved a letter from Carrot?” The pegasus shakes her head. “Better watch out, Anon. She's a real heart-breaker. A stallion-eater. Rawr.” She accentuates this by snapping her teeth together.
“I didn't save it, I just left it on my dresser,” you argue, stuffing the note into your pocket. “Why are you looking through my stuff, anyway?”
“Just trying to find those letters I made you. You did get them, right?”
You did get those letters. Every morning Derpy personally brought you, along with your normal mail, an average of three messages from herself. They were usually along the lines of, Hi Anon, hope you have a nice day! or We should really hang out sometime!, always with a childish-looking picture. The letters were cute, but you never really mentioned them to her after receiving them.
“Yeah, I got them.”
“Soooo...?” The little pony flutters her eyelashes. “Whaddya say? Wanna hang out soon?”
“I– Sure, yeah, I guess.”
“When?”
“I don't really know, let me check my–“
“What about tomorrow?”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I can tomorrow, after work.” The thought of spending hours alone with this mare gives you an queasy feeling, however. “Hey, maybe you can invite Carrot to come along?”
She just smiles. “I think Carrot's busy tomorrow.”
“Oh. Well, just ask her anyway, alright?”
“It's like I said. I think Carrot's busy tomorrow.”
----------
The next morning goes as usual.
Derpy greets you as she delivers you your mail. You and her discuss where and when to meet up later. Derpy insists on coming over to your house after you get back from work, and starting off the day from there. You agree to this.
“Five o' clock. Okay, Derpy?”
“I thought you get off work at four?”
How did she even know...?
“Uh, yeah, but I like to relax for a bit. Daily ritual, the three 'S's, all that. You know.”
“Oh, okay. So how long do you need to relax?”
“I... Well, it takes me like, fifteen minutes to walk home. That gives me about forty-five minutes to do my thing.”
“Is half an hour enough time? I can be here at four-thirty, if you want.”
“No, I don't want. Five o' clock. Got it?”
“Sounds good. I'll be here at four-fifty.”
Realizing that you're going nowhere with this, you finally give in.
“Okay. Four-fifty.”
Her smile widens into a toothy grin. “Okay, Anon! See ya later!”
----------
You're roused from your nap by a loud knocking.
“Anon! Anon! You in there, Anon?”
Fucking dammit. You know for a fact it's not four-fifty yet. You check your clock and find that she's half an hour early, clocking in at four-thirteen P.M.
“Anoooooon!”
You poke your head out of your room, and scream down the hallway, “I'm awake, alright?! Just hold on!”
She seems to be satisfied with this response, as the knocking stops. You swear under your breath, and grumpily answer the door.
“You're half an hour early,” you tell the little gray mare.
“Well, you're not just gonna leave me out here, are you?”
Maybe I will. Ever think of that?
“Ugh... I guess not.” You close the door, unlatch it, and then open it back up for her. “But next time, you're stuck outside until I say so.”
She happily prances inside. “Got it. Just trying to be early so we can have as much time together as possible!”
“Five or ten minutes is fine, but seriously, Derpy.”
She just goes straight to your room again. You sigh, feeling like you've just been intruded on, and follow her in.
She makes herself at home on your spinny chair. You plop yourself down on your bed and throw your arm across your forehead.
“So...” She swings her legs side to side as she makes full use of the chair. “Whatcha wanna do?”
“Well, I was just in the middle of sleeping when you showed up.”
“I know,” she says, again rummaging through your room for things to fiddle with. People messing with your stuff without asking tends to bother you, so you keep an eye on her.
She goes through your closet, pulling out random things, until you hear a click and see the glint of metal.
“Derpy, what are you doing with my knife?” You get up from your bed and make to take back the sharp object.
She playfully jabs the knife at you, stopping you in your advance.. “Yar! You ain't getting this back from me, matey!”
You really don't feel like putting up with this. “This is serious, Derpy. That's a weapon, and you shouldn't be playing with it. Put it down.“
“Oh, come on, Anon, loosen up. It's not like I'm actually going to stab you or something.“
“I don't care. I don't want you playing with it.”
“Ooh, look at this blade.” She pretends to admire the craftsmanship of your knife. “Very good balance. Where did you get this?”
“None of your business. Put it back where you found it, okay?”
“Can I try it out? Is there anything around here I can cut? Maybe I can carve our initials into your wall, so that you can always –”
You've had it with this shit. “Derpy, fucking put that thing down, now!”
“Okay, okay, you could've just asked nicely.” She carelessly throws the knife back in your closet without folding it back up. She then fiddles with her hooves a bit, before giving you a curious, somewhat concerned look. “Am I bothering you, Anon?”
Good lord...
“Yeah, a little bit...”
“Oh. Sorry, Anon.” her ears flatten against her head, and she wordlessly sits down in your chair, staring down at the carpet.
You watch her for a moment. You know she's just putting on a show. You know she's just trying to make you feel sorry for her. And yet...
You sigh. “I'm just a little grumpy right now. I didn't really get very much of a nap earlier.”
“So you just get really grumpy when you're tired?” This revelation seems to raise her spirits a little.
“Yeah...”
“Oh. You can go to sleep if you want, I'll just wait here until you're done.”
“Eh, no thanks.” You pull out some socks and shoes, and start putting them on. “We'll just go outside now, alright?”
“Okay!” she says, hopping off your chair. She goes and sits by your door, watching as you slide your socks on. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch her as she watches you.
Your eye twitches, and you smile politely at her. “You can wait outside, if you want. I won't be long.”
“Oh, no, I'm fine. I'll wait here with you.”
Normally, this really wouldn't bother you. In fact, a lot of the stuff she does wouldn't bother you if it were someone else doing it. Something about her just... irritates you.
Or maybe you really are just grumpy.
You shouldn't really shouldn't let little things bother you, Anon.
The weather's nice in Ponyville today. Although, with ponies that literally control the weather here, not much less could be expected.
The two of you are at a park, sitting under the shade of a tree. Derpy is propped up against your side, nuzzling into you and occasionally sighing.
This bothers you.
Nevertheless, you stick by your vow to be nicer to the little gray pegasus. You decide to start by scratching her behind the ear. In response, she smiles, sticking her tongue out to the side whilst leaning into your hand. You have to admit, it's kind of cute.
See? You just need to give people second chances. You can't throw someone out of your life just because of a few faults; everyone has their own unique quirks and such.
Speaking of quirkiness, a certain 'unique' purple unicorn has been spotted on the horizon.
She seems to notice you as well. She trots through the grass, soon coming to a stop before the two of you.
With a smile, she greets each of you in turn. “Hey there, Anon. Derpy.”
“Hey, Twilight.” You absentmindedly cease petting Derpy's head. “What's up?”
“Well, I've always wanted to observe the local flora and fauna of Ponyville ever since I arrived here, but I've never really had the time until now. So, I was just on my way to Fluttershy's in case she wanted to come along, since she seems to be somewhat knowledgeable in the subject.” She pauses for a beat. “So, how about you two?”
You're about to reply, but Derpy cuts you off.
“Well, we -were- enjoying the park together,” she says, casting a scowl Twilight's way. The confused unicorn steps back, looking to you for answers. You don't have any; you're caught off guard as well.
Twilight glances back and forth between the two of you. She frowns, as if trying to solve a problem.
Her eyes suddenly widen, and you think you see a lightbulb appear above her head. “Oh! I'm sorry, I had no idea you two were –” She stops mid sentence, before grinning and dancing on the tips of her hooves excitedly. “Aw, how cute!”
What? No, bad Twilight! Bad Twilight! “No, no, Twi, we're just –”
“It's okay, Anon, you don't have to be embarrassed. It's only natural.” She switches from scientist to girl as she lets out a high-pitched squee. “I was just passing by here, I'll leave you two alone. Goodbye, 'Anonyderpy!'”
Her giggling trails off as she trots away, leaving you and the blonde pony alone again. You're left with your mouth open, your objection caught in your throat.
And to make things worse, Derpy is not only still snuggling up against your side, but has taken to hugging you.
“Great,” you say, trying to scoot away from the gray pegasus, “ponies think we're dating now.”
“Oh?” Derpy snickers.
“Yeah. Why didn't you speak up, Derpy? Why didn't you say anything?”
“Well...” She puts her hoof to her chin, obviously pretending to be in thought. “I thought that it might be funny if we just acted like we were together. Like a practical joke.” Her cheeks tinged pink, she smiles sheepishly at you. “Wouldn't that be an awesome prank, Anon?”
“No, it wouldn't,” you state flatly.
“Well, what if... just hear me out here. What if...” She begins to draw a little bit closer, closing the distance you'd made from her creepy hugging. “...it wasn't a prank?”
What.
She winks at you. “Also... there's something very special I want you to have, Anon.”
One of her wings opens up. Tucked underneath her feathers is a gold chain with a heart-shaped diamond attached at the end.
Holyshitwhatthefuck – !
“This cost me my entire life savings,” she says quietly, turning the Celestia-knows-how-expensive jewel over in her hoof.
She looks at it with the same tenderness a mother would look at her child. She takes one last look at the priceless stone, before turning to you.
“I want you to have it.”
Those five words nearly give you a heart attack. While the neurons in your brain repeatedly misfire, Derpy slips the necklace over your head, making sure to softly stroke your cheek as she pulls her hoof back.
She looks you up and down, liking the way it looks on you. You're still unable to form words.
Derpy, however, seems to have more to say. “And you know, there's something else I want you to have...”
She pulls the necklace over her head as well, shimmying her way into the opening. The necklace clearly was not meant for two; it very tightly sandwiches you together, leaving little room to breathe as you are breast to breast with the small blonde mare, your hands propping both your and her body up as she leans against you.
You're completely paralyzed. You're so close you can smell and taste her hot minty breath, noticing the slight twitch of her derped eye as her lips barely brush against yours – teasing you, sending shivers up your spine, as she whispers two final words.
“...my virginity.”
She lurches forward in a passionate kiss, driving you to the ground as she immediately begins to dry-hump you.
Well, not so dry.
Out of the corner of your eye, ponies are watching. Parents cover their childrens' eyes, many ponies leave, and a few weirdos draw a little closer. All the while, some meat is added to the sandwich.
Through the hot makeout session, you attempt resistance. “N-no... Derpy...”
It's honestly kind of hard, what with her literally strapped to your chest and begging to be fucked.
“Nnmmm...” She seems to be trying to smother your opposition, pressing against your lips even harder. You feel her hooves fumbling with your pants, tapping the button a few times as she tries to undo it.
“Derpy...” You forget what you're trying to say, making it sound like you're calling out her name. This seems to encourage her, as the humping increases in pace.
Your mind is a fog. A fog of pure ecstasy.
Wait. No! Don't let this happen! She's forcing herself on you, Anon! Resist! Resist!
You finally find the will to take control of yourself. “Derpy, stop!” you yell, forcefully shoving her off of you. You hear a snap as the weak metal chain breaks, throwing the priceless pendant to the ground and finally separating your bodies.
She's held at bay by your outstretched arms. She hangs just above you with confused, crossed eyes, as if to say, 'I just don't know what went wrong!'. A line of drool hangs from her mouth to yours, which she promptly slurps up and attempts to swallow.
After her failed saliva slurping, reality begins to set in for the little pony. “I... B-but I...” Her eyes begin to water. They dart all over the place, looking everywhere but you until a look of anger settles over her.
“Why... WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME, ANON?!” she screams in your face. A gray hoof strikes you in the cheek, before Derpy pushes herself off of you and runs off, wailing the entire way.
You stare off in her direction as she shoots off at a dead sprint. You just sit there, dazed and still trying to comprehend what just happened.
A glint catches your eye. The diamond heart lies in the grass. You pick it up and stuff it into your pocket as you stand. As you cross the park to leave, all eyes are on you. Some ponies give you angry glares, others just watch in curiosity or concern; often, a mix of both.
“Dick...” you hear someone mutter as you pass. You pay them no mind; after all that's happened, you really couldn't give a shit.
You just want to get home and finish that nap.
----------
“So, Carrot Top. I just need to ask...”
The orange mare pretends not to hear you, busying herself with something or another under the counter of her stall.
“...are you ignoring me?”
Her fumbling stops. She finally looks up and addresses you, only with a frown and a furrowed brow rather than her usual smile.
“Are you going to buy something, or not? Because I have customers, Anon.”
You look around. It's early morning, and there really aren't many ponies around the market. Mostly shopkeepers setting up, and the occasional early bird.
“I'll move if I see one.”
“Look,” she says, slamming both hooves on the countertop. This raises her onto her hind legs, bringing her eye-to-eye with you as she fixes you with a glare. “I think it's pretty obvious that I really don't want to talk to you right now. So why don't you just go off, do whatever Anons do when they're not playing mares.”
What?
“'Playing mares?'” you ask. “What are you talking about?”
She busies herself again, not looking at you any longer. Fortunately, she's at least considerate enough to answer your question. “You know damn well, Anon.”
To an extent, you suppose.
“Well, care to remind me what I seem to know all about?”
“Derpy came home crying yesterday. Care to explain that?”
The first thing that comes out of your mouth may not be your brightest. “She, uh, tried to rape me?”
Carrot stops what she's doing. She stares you straight in the eye.
“Really?” She starts slowly, but her pace rapidly increases. “What the fuck are you talking about, Anon?”
You might as well be arguing that the town's librarian becomes a princess one day. “I'm serious, Carrot! What, do you want me to lie?”
Actually, no. That she gets her own damn kingdom.
“Okay, first of all, let's suppose she was even strong enough to force herself on you –“
“Well, of course I didn't let her! But she tried! She's fucking loony, Carrot!”
“Who are you talking to, Anon?”
That voice. Oh Celestia, wasn't that perfect timing? Ever so slowly, you turn around to face the bane of your existence, the reason for all your troubles.
As seems to be the norm, you find yourself unable to speak. The little gray pegasus stares at you with her one eye; the other one seems to be covered up with a drawing. The drawing is of her eye, just straight forward instead of off to the side and very childish-looking.
Again, you speak the first that that pops up in your head. “I – Uh, are you okay, Derpy?”
'Are you okay?' Goddamn, do you even need to ask?
“Oh, I'm fine. I'm better, actually.” She smiles sweetly up at you. “See, I figured out why you wouldn't love me before. It was because of my eye, wasn't it?”
She's saying wouldn't and was as if you suddenly like her now. You really just want to back away, but then you would be backing up into the stall.
A bit trapped, you answer her question. “No, it wasn't, Derpy. And frankly, this wouldn't have changed anything anyway. After all it's just a piece of paper – ”
She suddenly interrupts. “J-Just a piece of paper?” Both eyes begin to water up. Wetness begins to show through the drawn-on paper eye, making it soggy and translucent. You can see past that now; her crooked eye points somewhere way off to the side, just as it does anytime she's upset.
“I- I poured my heart and soul into making it... just... right...”
She sniffles, looking sadly at the ground. Then, she grabs the paper with her hoof, tearing it off and throwing it on the ground. She stomps on it a few times with one of her forehooves, and once again runs off in a trail of tears.
“Celestia damn it, Anon!” Carrot says from behind you. “She was already insecure about her eye, and you just had to go and make it worse?!”
You put up the only defense you have left. “Carrot, I'm telling you she's insane!”
This only seems to make it worse. “She's not insane, just insecure! How would you feel if you had to go your whole life bullied by other ponies, just because you're a little different?”
She exits her stall, muttering as she walks off, “Why she had to fall for such a dick, only Celestia knows.”
That’s the second time this week.
----------
It's after work that same day. You walk down the road leading back to your home, wondering what to do. Carrot Top hates your guts. And, come to think of it, now you're not sure she ever really even liked you. The way she talked made it seem like she wasn't even slightly miffed about you 'seeing' another mare.
Fuck. You probably misread everything.
You're just going to have to move on, Anon.
The cross-eyed freak is still out of the question, though. No doubt about that.
As you near your house, something about it seems off. Usually, your place gives off a warm, homey feeling, the kind that only – well, a home can give. Right now, however...
Guh. You just can't place your finger on it.
You try the doorknob. It's locked, which means that nobody could have used the door to get in.
Good.
An unsettling thought crosses your mind. Just for extra measure, you walk the house's perimeter and check all your windows. Just in case.
Nothing appears to be broken. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that your house is clear of all intruders.
You unlock your door and step inside. One by one, you begin flicking on all the lights. You get a chill down your spine, but you convince yourself that it's nothing. You’ve checked every entrance, so unless Santa came down your chimney, you should be safe.
Still, you can't help but be careful about each room you step into. You peek your head through every doorway before passing through.
Just in case.
Pretty soon, you're sure you've gone through just about every room in the house. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that you're safe and sound from any Derpy intruders. You walk into your room, where you proceed to flop onto your mattress and pull a magazine out from under the bed.
Maybe a good fapping session will make you feel a little better. You open up the magazine, imagining yourself in lewd positions with each paper mare you set your eyes on.
Five minutes later, and you barely have a halfie going. As it turns out, it's rather difficult to masturbate while you're sad, and it doesn't help that every mare seems to remind you of Carrot in some way.
Sexy body, nice face, that hot bed-head mane...
You sigh, opting to head into the bathroom. You kinda need to pee, and maybe you can pick up some lube in case you decide to go for another attempt later.
As you approach the bathroom door, you realize that every room in the house had been checked, but the bathroom. You chuckle to yourself. Perhaps now you're going to see some kind of horrible monster in there, or something?
Maybe. The bathroom is where all the scary things happen.
Shut up, brain.
You open the bathroom door. A horrible stench suddenly hits you, causing you to reel back in disgust.
Fuck. You know that isn't from those burritos you ate last night. Not even you could blow up a bathroom that bad.
You push the door open again, holding your nose this time. Strangely enough, a beam of light is cast down from the ceiling, slightly illuminating a rather dark spot on the bathroom floor.
It looks like... No, it isn't. It can't be. Hesitantly, you flick on the light. What you see causes you to freeze in horror.
Blood. Blood everywhere, staining the white tiles, white walls, white sink... Everything that was white has now been splattered or, at the least, speckled with red.
It takes a few minutes, but you finally find it within yourself to step inside. Your shoe makes a squelching noise as it touches the floor, somehow giving you the comical image of a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel.
You tread carefully.
Chunks and bits of wood litter every flat surface, fully immersed in the caking blood like fruit in jello. You look upwards, where the beam of light came from. A crude hole, definitely large enough for a pony to fit through, has been made in your ceiling.
You survey the damage. Everything is surreal. You pinch yourself just to make sure you aren't dreaming.
Nope. This nightmare is real.
On the mirror is some barely distinguishable writing, hoof-written in blood. It takes you a moment, but you're able to make it out:
“I did this for you, Anon.”
Right underneath this is your sink. A heart has been drawn around your sink. You retch; not by the fact that she literally used blood to draw a picture of a heart in your bathroom, or the fact that your knife rests, coated in this same blood, on your bathroom countertop.
No, it's what is inside your sink that nearly causes you to coat your hand in vomit. One white, gold, and pink-red orb sits inside your sink, staring right back at you.
It's been very crudely cut out, as it doesn't resemble anything near a perfect sphere. It's still pretty recognizable as an eye, though; a small piece of the optic nerve still remains intact, and aside from now being mostly tomato red, you can still make out the cornea, pupil, and iris.
That golden iris. It's unmistakable.
And, there it goes. Your tuna and tomato sandwich from earlier.
It's been nearly three weeks since the incident with Derpy.
You never told anyone. Your initial reaction was to run outside, screaming that your bathroom was covered in blood and there was a pony's organ in your sink. But as you were standing on your front lawn, ready to empty your lungs to the heavens, you remembered the way Carrot reacted when you told her that Derpy forced herself on you.
She didn't believe you. What if no one else did?
But you had evidence. You would bring them inside, and show them what happened.
And that's when they would find your knife on the counter, covered in blood and bits of pony. The perfect evidence of the more believable story that you did it; not that one of the sweetest, most harmless mares in Ponyville carved their own eyeball out.
Likely story.
So you simply went back into your house. It took over the course of a few hours, but after managing to work up the courage you eventually cleaned the bathroom, starting with throwing away both the eyeball and the knife.
You were never able to fully get the blood out of your wallpaper. No matter how much you scrubbed, a faint red tinge remained. You plan to give the bathroom walls a fresh coat of paint, it's just that patching the roof is currently top priority.
You haven't seen Derpy at all. You've pretty much given up on pursuing anything with Carrot Top, as well. Besides thinking you're a giant douche, after going this long without contact, she probably thinks you never even cared enough to give her an apology.
It’s really too bad you’ll never have a chance to explain why. In truth, You've just been scared shitless of running into Derpy outside. So far, your house has proven pretty safe, even though you know the psycho still delivers your mail every morning.
That's the thing that gets you, though. She stopped knocking at your door. You still get all your mail and such, but cotton-eyed Josephina has never actually greeted you with her eerily wide smile ever since the bathroom incident.
It's possible that you've been assigned a new mailpony. You can't imagine that Derpy would be very capable of working after playing jack o' lantern with her head, but you've been too afraid to check. Suppose she was still delivering your mail, and saw you peeking out the window at her?
Knockknockknockknockknock!
Oh shit.
You check your clock. It's that time of the morning.
The same time that she consistently showed up to your house every day.
The fuck do you do now?
Don't open the door. Just don't open it.
What if she looks through one of the windows and sees you?
You look around at all the windows. Luckily, all the blinds are closed. The house is kinda dark, actually.
Knockknockknockknockknock!
The knocking persists.
You sit on your couch, covering your ears to shield yourself from the noise, which now includes: “Anon, open up! I know you're in there!”
Celestia, damn it.
Why won't she just leave you alone?
You can't just ignore her. You need to hide.
Hide? No, Poppanon didn't raise a pussy.
You need to fight back.
You get up and walk to the fireplace. Resting on the brick is the fire poker.
If both eyes are gone, she can't stalk you anymore, right?
You pick up the long metal rod, grabbing it by the handle. It feels good to have something heavy in your hand. It has a straight point for the direct stab, and a curve branching off like a sickle.
You imagine yourself using this. The feel of the metal piercing her skin, digging into her flesh... You shudder at the thought. Could you really do it?
Maybe you'll just hit her over the head with it, or something. As a last resort.
Yeah, that's a better plan. What the hell were you thinking? Stabbing a pony? That's the kind of shit that lands you in prison.
The periodic knocking has evolved into a long, continuous stream of banging on your door. This noise, combined with the occasional shouting of your name, pounds away at your psyche. You're not sure whether to get mad, or continue feeling afraid.
Why not both?
Nervously, you approach the rattling door, trusty fire poker in hand. You're about to open it with the latch still on, but think again; hiding won't get you anywhere.
Quietly, you undo the latch. You unlock the door, slowly turning the knob...
The door swings open. You step outside, poker at the ready, and shout, “WHY WON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!”
You immediately regret that.
Before you stands a very frightened Carrot Top. She takes a nervous step back, her eyes wide in surprise and her ears folded against her head.
“I... understand why you might be mad.” Her whispering is quiet enough to rival Fluttershy's. She looks off to the side, a guilty expression on her face. “I'm sorry for not really listening to what you had to say... and maybe I took you too literally. Like you meant that she was actually trying to... you know.”
I meant what I said. Retard horse tried to rape me, you think to yourself. Wisely, you keep it to the one person who heard it – again, yourself.
“I need to talk to you, though,” she continues. “About... a few things. All I ask is that you at least hear me out, even if you're not willing to give me a second chance.”
Wow. Play your cards right, and you may be able to get back to where you were, or – no. No, you have a golden opportunity here. You can go further than you were with her before.
“Yeah, sure. Um, why don't you come insi – ” The image of you trying to explain your pink-a-dot bathroom to Carrot comes to mind. “Actually, could you wait here a sec? I just need to send a message to work, and get ready and all that, then I'll be right out.”
“It's Saturday, Anon.”
You furrow your brow and think for a moment.
“Oh. So it is.”
Get it together, dude.
“Alright, I'll be right back out, then. We'll go to the park or something, okay?”
“Okay. I'll be waiting.”
----------
“I know I said it before, but I'm just gonna say it again anyway. I'm sorry, Anon. I was in the heat of the moment and all... I just get kind of emotional, you know?”
Wow. A woman that apologizes.
You're gonna marry this girl.
“It's fine,” you assure her. “I'm sorry, too. I probably should have handled the situation a little differently, instead of just coming up and saying... well, what I said.”
She chuckles. “Yeah. So, you were exaggerating, right?”
“Yeah.”
No.
“Though, not by a lot.”
Good compromise.
She gives you a look, but at least gives you a chance to speak as she rescinds it nearly immediately. “What do you mean?”
“Well...” Tread carefully, Anon. Don't be too blunt; you remember how she reacted last time. “It did kind of go from 'hanging out' to 'humping my leg' in the space of a few minutes.”
Yeah. Smooth.
She's gracious enough to at least hear you out, even if she looks quite skeptical. “You're not exaggerating again, are you?”
You shake your head. “I kid you not. She literally dry-humped me. Right after giving me this,” you pull the diamond necklace out of your pocket. Bam, baby! “...and telling me she wanted me to take her virginity.”
Carrot's mouth drops open at the sight of the necklace. She swipes the necklace from you, turning it over in her hoof repeatedly and staring at it in disbelief. “What?! B-But, how...?”
“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction.” You let it speak for itself.
“Wow.” She gives you back the necklace, staring off at she takes in this information. “Yeah, I understand how you feel now... Wow.” She shakes her head. “On the first date, too.”
What the fuck did she just say?
“Date?!”
“Yeah. She came home the day before that, ecstatic because you'd asked her on... a...” The gears in her head begin to turn. “She... You never did, did you?”
You shake your head.
“But... She... Why would she say that?!” Carrot seems genuinely disturbed. “She lied to me, especially after I told her – ” Carrot stops, blushing a little . “Well, the awful part is that she would lie to my face like that. How could she?!”
“I'm telling you, Carrot, there's something wrong with her. Has she always been like this?”
Carrot shakes her head. “No, no. She's always been such a kind, sweet pony, I... I mean, there's the thing with her eye – ”
Not anymore.
“ – but it's not a mental condition or anything.”
“Hm.”
The two of you walk in silence for a moment, each pondering somewhat similar but different problems.
You're the one to break the silence. “That reminds me. Have you talked to her as of late?”
Carrot shakes her head. “No, I haven't. She stayed home from work the day that you and I had that big argument; I know because they sent a messenger to our house around six in the evening, inquiring about Derpy. That was three weeks ago.”
Well, shit. Not even Carrot knows where the crazy horse is.
“Okay, because neither have I.”
“I'm kind of worried, really. I mean, I may be really pissed at her for lying to me and – well, doing what she did to you, but we've been friends since fillyhood. I think we all just need to sit down and talk; work this out, you know?”
The eyeball may be worth mentioning at this point.
Baby steps, Anon.
“Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea... supposing we could find her.”
You hope you don't. You hope she bled out or her eye got infected or something, unlikely as it is.
“I hope we do. She might be hurt, or hungry or cold. I really hope she's okay.”
“I wouldn't worry,” you dismiss her, “I've only known her for a little while, but it's been enough time to know that she can pack a few surprises.”
--------
Silently, you walk back to your house.
The conversation with Carrot went surprisingly well, considering she no longer hates your guts anymore.
A plan was also erected for how to deal with Derpy if either of you saw her:
'Talk to her, and try to bring her somewhere where we can all three sit down and chat.'
Yeah fucking right. That mare's beyond talking to. The fact that you still have no idea where the crazy bitch is nearly drives you insane.
Literally. You couldn't even tell the difference between Derpy's and Carrot's voice this morning.
All you could think about was Derpy.
Derpy.
Derpy.
“Excuse me?”
You nearly jump out of your skin.
Oh. You're home.
And there's a pony in a suit on your walkway.
“Oh. Uh, hello,” you greet the mare.
She must not are for formalities, as she promptly asks, “Are you a Mister Anonymous?”
“Uh...” You get a weight in your stomach. This dun look good. “Yeah.”
“I'm a representative from Ponyhomes realty.” She gives you a card, which you proceed to glance at for a second before sticking it into your pocket. “I'm here to confirm that you understand that you are late on your payments, and if you do not pay the money you owe you will soon be undergoing foreclosure.”
Wait. What the fuck?!
“What?! But I never even got my bill!”
She pulls out a piece of paper, pointing to a certain spot on it. “It says here that it was sent to you last week on Monday, at ten twenty-seven AM. It is not our responsibility to ensure that you received it, only that we sent it.”
This is bullshit.
“This doesn't mean that your house is definitely being foreclosed on. You can still pay it, but after next week there will be penalties.”
At least the businesses here seem to be fairly forgiving.
Defeated, you simply sigh. “Okay. Thank you, Ma'am.”
As you walk into your house, you start to wonder just how you could have missed the letter. Come to think if it, you haven't even gotten your water bill, or your property tax, or... your paycheck.
Then it hits you.
You grip the doorknob, slamming the door behind you as you seethe in anger.
That little runt delivers your damn mail.
You walk into your kitchen, turning the knob to run the water in the sink. For now, you should probably collect as much as you can, while you can.
Water spills forth. You breathe a sigh of relief.
The water's still running. Maybe you weren't supposed to have gotten the water bill yet.
Yet. No doubt Derpy will keep it from you when it does come.
Realizing that you're a bit thirsty after your long walk, you cup your hands underneath the facet. Some water will do you some good.
As if in a cruel twist of fate, the water suddenly stops. A drop drips off the facet, landing in your parched hands and immediately drying up.
“Heh. Heh heh. God FUCKING DAMMIT, DERPY!”
“Did you call me, Anon?”
A chill runs down your spine. You reach for one of the kitchen knives close by.
“I put all of those someplace safe, just in case you hadn't realized that I'm just doing what's best for you.”
You're mortified. Defenseless.
Not to mention, you're not sure if you want to know what she looks like.
The last time you saw her, she had both eyes. You wonder what she has now. Slowly, you turn to face her, wondering just what you'll see.
The little grey pony is sitting in the living room, wearing an eyepatch. Other than the new accessory, she looks like the same Derpy she was before she carved her head like a Thanksgiving Turkey.
You could take her down now. You could charge at her, maybe grabbing a fork while you're at it, and end this once and for all...
...or you can be a bit more methodical. After all, you really don't know if she's stuck nails in the rug or something crazy like that.
You decide to go the careful route. You decide that arguing with with her – distracting her – would be your best option.
“How is holding my mail in my best interests, Derpy?” you ask, your question coming out a bit sarcastically.
“Well...” She draws out the first word, putting a hoof to her chin as she thinks about her answer. “I think that after all I've done for you, you need to give something back to me in return... After all, that's how love works. Don't you love me, Anon?”
Goddammit, does she not get it?! “No, I don't! I wish you would just get lost and leave me alone!”
She smiles. It's the kind of smile that a mother gives her child when they ask a bad question: sweet, condescending, and somewhat sad. “Deep down inside, I know you love me, Anon. You just don't realize it yet.”
You take a step forward. “If I don't love you now, what makes you think I'll love you without running water? Without a house? Without my damn paycheck? You're a fucking retard, Derpy.”
That, right there. That struck a nerve. Derpy's smile freezes in place, then slowly stretches, her lips growing thinner as they're pulled taught. Her pupil contracts, leaving a blank, empty white canvas lined with thin little rivers of red.
“What did you just call me?” Her voice hits a disturbingly high yet quiet note.
Before you can respond, she lets out an ear-piercing screech. “I'M NOT CRAZY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” She rips off the eye patch, revealing the very tender-looking eye socket beneath. “I... I DID THIS FOR YOU! SO I WOULDN'T HAVE THAT PROBLEM ANYMORE! S-SO YOU COULD LOVE ME!”
One of her wings opens up. Out drops a match box. Shakily, she picks it up, taking out one of the matches and viewing it with her one eye. “B-But... I guess you don't appreciate a gift... If you've never given something up yourself.”
She strikes the match against the box, igniting a small flame.
Anon.
Hey, Anon.
She's gonna burn your house down, Anon.
You'd better stop her, Anon!
You sprint forward, suddenly noticing the container of kerosene by your couch as you enter the living room. Sticking out of the top is a small white string. A fuse.
It looks completely ridiculous. It is completely ridiculous. Yet, it scares the complete shit out of you all the same.
Is she really going to light that thing up?!
You stop as you see that Derpy has successfully lit a match.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck!
“I wouldn't get any closer, Anon.” She steps forward, match balanced on her hoof, the flame coming dangerously close to the fuse. “In fact, you might want to run.”
Your legs wobble, and you throw out your arms in despair. “Why, Derpy?”
“Because,” she says, looking you dead in the eye, “you might get burned.”
You're not sure if she was trying to be cryptic, or if she answered the wrong question.
Oh fuck she just dropped the match!
You watch, the world moving in slow-motion as the match tumbles through the air towards the can of kerosene. You immediately turn tail and run towards the door, never looking back as you fear for your life.
You make it out the door, sprinting across the street to get away from the –
Wait a second.
You turn around. Your house still remains intact. No fire, no explosions.
Was she just bluffing?
You wait there for a bit. Finally, upon deciding that your house should have been the neighborhood bonfire already, you head back inside.
You open your door, standing away from it at first to make sure a giant fireball doesn't spew out at you. You finally peek your head inside to find Derpy desperately trying to strike another match.
The first one lies on the floor next to the container of kerosene, black and charred, but not on fire. A scratching noise is heard as Derpy continues striking the new match against the box, grunting angrily as she does so.
“Knew I should've bought a new box,” she mumbles to herself. Finally, she gets a match to light up and holds it up to the air, viewing her work with pride. “Ah, ha – !”
Suddenly, the air around her hoof explodes in a huge ball of fire. It expands, rushing towards you with incredible speed. The heat is intense; no, that's an understatement. This is hotter than the time Rarity had you help her dress models for her new fashion line.
Mm. That gave you a thing for stockings.
Your split-second wet dream is interrupted when an invisible force socks you in both the face and chest at once, knocking you back with no hope of resisting. You're sent hurtling to the ground, performing multiple corkscrews before finally eating dirt.
Your head hits the hard dirt walkway, and you're out cold.
You feel yourself coming to. Your eyelids flutter open, only to clamp shut again as the brightness burns off your retinas.
Okay, let's try this again.
You open them again, this time a bit more slowly.
Woah.
You stare up at the white ceiling. Only, this is no ordinary ceiling; this one dances.
It takes a surprising amount of effort, but you turn your head to the side, scanning the room as you go, your eyes taking in every distorted detail. Beside you is some machine... some weird machine that beeps every second.
Heh. Heh heh. It sounds kind of funny.
You hear a door creak open. Slowly, you turn your head towards the direction of the noise. You watch as a white pony approaches you.
“Oh, good. You're awake,” the mare says. She appears to be a an earth pony, though it's kind of hard to tell with the funny-looking hat she's wearing. If she's a unicorn, it might just be covering her horn. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Anonymous?” she asks.
You don't respond at first. You're too entranced by her face; more specifically, the way it bends and deforms. It just ain't natural.
“I'm...” Your lips feel a bit parched. You smack them together and lick them. “I feel kinda... good, I guess? I dunno anymore, man. This is crazy. Everything I see is like... jello. Jello's pretty good though, so I guess it's okay.”
The pony nods. “Yes, those are some of the effects of the drugs we gave you. We administered them to relieve the pain a bit. I hope you don't mind.”
Pain? Drugs?
You look beside you at the monitor again. It has an oddly familiar line going across it, one that you know you've seen before. You look back and forth between the mare and the black box a few times, before spotting the symbol on her hat.
It's a little red plus sign.
Ohhh, you get it now. You're in a hospital.
Wait. Does that mean you're injured?
Your face scrunches up in concern. “What happened to me, Doc?”
“Well...” 'Doc' pulls out a clipboard from somewhere, looking over it for a little bit before readdressing you. “You sustained second-degree burns, mostly on your face, chest, and left arm. It's also very possible that your brain may experience swelling due to the way you hit your head after the explosion, but with today's advancements in medicine, it should be easily treatable.”
A lot of it flies over your head. What you got out of this lecture was burns, face, head, and...
...explosion.
It all comes back to you now, albeit a bit muddled and slowly. Derpy blew up your house. She nearly blew you up as well, and most likely herself.
Yeah, that's right. There's no way Derpy could have survived that explosion. Even from where you were, the heat and the force of the explosion were super duper powerful. Derpy was right there, next to the can of lighter fl- no, kerosene. She had to have been burnt to ashes.
Right?
...Maybe you should ask Doc.
“Heya, Doc?”
You suddenly realize that Doc is no longer here. You stare at the door for a little while, wondering when she left, and how she did it without making any noise.
“Yes, Mr. Anonymous?”
You nearly jump at her voice. As quickly as you cannabis, you turn your head to the right. It seems that Doc is looking at something on the monitor.
Oh, okay. At least she's looking out for you.
“I, uh, just had a question.”
She gives the screen one last quick check, copying something down. At last she turns to you expectantly.
Seems as if this is the time to pop the question. You clear your throat. “Uhm, just wondering; did they find Derpy?”
She blinks. You decide to elaborate.
“Derpy kind of blew up the house. I was wondering if they found her body yet.”
The mare's eyes widen. She quickly jots something down on her clipboard.
She looks back up at you, shaking her head. “I'm not being informed of all the details. However, I don't think they found any cadavers or remains, as of yet.”
No remains. There should be something, something left, no matter how powerful that explosion was.
“Not even bones?”
She shakes her head. “I'm sorry. Was this 'Derpy' pony close to you?”
It takes a moment for you to understand what she's asking. When you do, you raise an eyebrow at the preposterous idea.
“What do you think, Doc?”
She suddenly looks apologetic. “Sorry. I'll see myself out now.”
Doc exits the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving you to sit in silence.
So. Derpy's alive.
Or, maybe she's not. Maybe they just haven't found her body – or, whatever's left of her body – just yet.
Still. That little pony tends to pack some surprises. And now, assuming she's alive, you know for certain that she's a threat.
Yes, she's definitely a threat. She wouldn't just blow up your house like that, and herself along with it. What does that accomplish? No, she has a plan, some sort of evil, twisted, sick plan to force you to love her.
Surprisingly, all the ponies around you seem to live in their own blissful, ignorant worlds where Derpy isn't some deranged maniac out to do anything and everything to attain your love. Doc even asked if Derpy was close to you.
No one will believe you if you say that the little gray cross-eyed pony blew up your house with kerosene. Maybe, just maybe Carrot might, but you couldn't expect her to be able to protect you from the advances of that little menace. Or the rest of Ponyville’s population, for that matter.
No. It's time you took measures into your own hands.
It's time you fought back.
----------
You drag yourself through town, still dressed in your hospital gown.
It's late at night. Very late. The hospital was asleep, all except for a few guards patrolling the hallways.
They weren't difficult to get past. Most of them are half-asleep at this point in the night. Or morning. You can't really tell.
You remember where Carrot and Derpy live. That's the direction you head in right now, armed with nothing but your fists and your near-immunity to pain.
Thank you, Mary Jane.
Speaking of which, you're starting to feel the burns. It's a dull sting – present, but not unbearable.
Perhaps some more of that stuff would've helped. Still, you couldn't just wait around for tomorrow for them to give you another dose; you need to do this as soon as possible. There's no telling what that crazy pony might do.
She might actually kill you this time.
Soon, your destination looms in the distance. You mentally prepare yourself for the task ahead.
You approach the house. Soon, you come to the door, and try the doorknob. It's locked, of course, but you were prepared for this.
“Hyah!” you shout, raising your foot high into the air.
With all the might of a drugged Anon, you kick the door. The house shudders and you think you hear something snap, but for what you can tell, the door remains firm.
Maybe they leave their windows unlocked.
While fiddling with a cracked-open window on the side of the house, you hear a loud thump come from the front. Curious, you retrace your steps until you come to the corner of the house, and peer around the edge.
It's her. You see her, standing confusedly out her doorway. The door itself lies face-down on the walkway.
You knew it. You knew it. Derpy is still alive. Somehow, some way, she survived.
She backs up into her home, muttering something to herself.
Door's open. It's time to go.
You walk into the house. You've been here a few times before with Carrot, but your memory's kind of foggy on where everything is. It also doesn't help that the house is dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles illuminating the living room.
“Anon?”
Welp, looks as if you're not going to be needing to find your way around.
Before you stands the yellow-maned pony. Her eyes are tired but wide, and she sports a bad case of bed head.
You waste no time in acting; you give the little pony a swift roundhouse kick straight to the side of the head.
Your shin connects with her skull. She looks back at you, her eyes crossed in that weird way they always are when something happens to her. She wobbles like a top before slumping over, hitting the ground with a dull thud. She's out cold.
You grab her by the hind legs and drag her into the kitchen, then begin searching through her drawers for some knives.
Hah. She tried to keep the knives away from you. But here they are, all assorted so nicely in her kitchen.
You finally decide on one. You pull it out, gripping it tightly in your hand as you turn to the sack of potatoes on the kitchen floor.
Thinking about what you’re going to have to do makes you cringe. Apparently, the drugs didn't numb your sense of humanity.
You bend down, examining the pony who lies on her side. Her barrel expands and contracts, one of her limbs twitching every few minutes.
Come on, Anon. You can do it.
This mare tried to kill you, remember?
You turn the knife so that it faces downward in your hand. You grip the handle tightly, turning your bare knuckles white.
On three. Ready?
One... two…
God fucking dammit, you can’t –
THREE!
You bring the knife down, the tip landing in between one of her ribs. It was a weak stab, however, and never manages to bring the skin. A small indent on her skin marks the spot where the point presses into her.
You suddenly switch grips so that the knife faces forward in your hand, and press all your weight onto the knife handle. With a jerking movement, the blade sinks halfway in, and blood begins to seep from the open wound.
You nearly throw up. It breaks past her skin, and sinks into something slightly harder underneath – you really don't know what it is, but the thought makes you shudder. You press it in again, and this time, the blade embeds itself fully into the mare's body.
Unconsciously, her breathing begins to quicken. The twitching becomes more and more erratic, and blood seeps in small droplets from her mouth and onto the kitchen tile. It's not long before she stops moving at all.
There. You did it. You killed her.
Gradually, you let go of the knife, leaving it still stuck into the pony's side. You rise to your feet, viewing your handiwork somewhat disgustedly, but at the same time relieved.
You turn around, breathing a sigh of relief. As you’re about to walk out of the kitchen, however, you suddenly stop. Before you stands a stallion, mouth hanging wide open.
The two of you stand there for a while, frozen. You stare at each other for quite some time, neither of you able to think of an appropriate response to the situation.
Then, with one fell swoop, you use the same trick you did on Derpy and knock him out with a good, solid kick. He falls over like a sack of potatoes.
You observe him for a moment, trying to decide what to do with him. You notice that his jaw is out of place, and for the umpteenth time tonight, cringe.
Really? You just stabbed a pony in the ribs, and an out-of-place jaw bothers you. You shake your head at yourself.
So, what do you do now? Cover this up? They're going to wonder where Derpy went.
Then again, not even Carrot knows where crazy pony has been. And you did tell Doc that Derpy died in the fire… This could work to your advantage.
They won't find any remains from the fire, though. Still, whatever conclusions they draw won't concern you – they'll be too busy debating your story against the evidence they don’t have that they won't even consider the notion that you were here.
The stallion, however... He is a different matter. Where the fuck did he come from, anyway?
Eh. Likely a concerned neighbor who heard some noise, and just happened to walk in at the wrong time. You'll take care of him in a bit.
First priority: hiding Derpy's body. You begin looking through the kitchen in search of a plastic bag.
No, silly Anon. That won't be big enough. You need a blanket.
You step into the hallway, in search of a closet that contains blankets. It's a bit dark in there, so the expedition quickly becomes a difficult one. You stub your toes a few times, but that's okay, because you can't even feel them.
You return to the kitchen with two arms full of blankets. You plop them on the floor next to her body, and begin the mystery of how to cover this up.
First and foremost, you should probably start with taking care of Mr. Concerned Neighbor. God forbid he should wake up, and –
Oh, fuck.
You stare at the empty space on the rug.
He's not there.
You sprint to the doorway. Panic rises in your chest as you realize that the stallion who just witnessed you killing Derpy is nowhere to be seen.
His jaw is broken, so you might have some time to flee before word gets around. Not only that, but the ponies can't just call up the royal guard – they actually have to physically run to one of the posts in town.
Which gives you a good head start.
You comb through the pantry for any non-perishable goods. You may be on the run for awhile, so you stuff one of your blankets with as many cans of fruit cocktail and bread as you possibly can.
Sorry for taking your stuff, Carrot, but I'm really gonna need it.
Wait. Has she seriously slept through this entire ordeal?
Soon, you have enough food and water to last a hungry Anon for a month. Your sack lunch is a bit heavy, but you figure it'll last you long enough to at least get out of Equestria. Dodge
Wow, is that what it's come down to? Leaving the land of magical, mostly friendly talking ponies?
Damn.
You look back at the body lying on the ground. The dim light gives her fur an eery yellow glow.
No use cleaning you up now. Goodbye, Derpy. I hope it was worth all the trouble you caused me.
And with that, you bound off into the night.
----------
It's dark in here. It's humid, hot, and smells like wood.
Boxes. They're everywhere. Why are there boxes everywhere?
Oh, yeah. You're in a warehouse. This is where you're hiding, right?
Yeah. Yeah, that's right.
Your head hurts. That headache. That terrible, terrible headache. It just won't go away. It feels like someone stuck a searing hot metal ball into the back of your head.
In fact, it feels like that all over your skull. Hot spots, constantly hitting you, letting up for just a moment before boring into your brain again.
Your foot, too. You did something to it, because it's been hurting for weeks. It was probably when you tried to kick that door down.
Being on the run hasn’t helped it, either.
How long has it been? You check the date on a nearby newspaper you have with you, but can barely understand the words on the front page, much less attempt math.
Too long to count.
They've been looking for you. It's been in the newspapers, it's been on building-side posters, it's been in the faces of passer-by ponies.
You made it to about as far as the coast of Fillydelphia, mostly by train-hopping, before hiding in this warehouse and forgetting what you were doing.
You've been forgetting things a lot lately. Sometimes it's things like where you are, other times it's why you're even hiding in the first place.
Right now, though, you remember. You committed murder. You killed Derpy.
Nobody understands. Nobody cares, everyone fears. You. Carrot hasn't come after you; hasn't tried to protect you, or to reason with you, as it seems. She probably thinks of you along the same lines as the rest of the ponies do.
Crazy. Lunatic. Criminal.
You've been missing that orange-maned farmer a lot lately. You love her. You want to talk to her, to hug her, to hold her in your arms while she cries, overjoyed that you came back... but she’s just so far away now. It's hard to love someone, yet never be able to see them. Never be able to touch them. Never for them to return your love.
You can almost sympathize with Derpy.
Derpy.
Derpy.
The root of all your problems.
Had she not obsessed over you, none of this would have happened. She's the reason you're here alone with a blanket, a newspaper, and a dwindling amount of fruit cocktail cans. She's the reason you have this horrible headache, and nothing to do about it.
Yet, somehow, you just can't blame her.
She just loved you too much, it seemed. That really was her only crime.
Well, aside from burning down your house and performing hara-kiri on her eye while in your bathroom.
Still, had she not been so utterly insane and obsessive, you may have... well, considered her.
Perhaps had she just waited, perhaps she had just been a little more in control of herself... things might have been different.
Perhaps... maybe... if you'd just loved her back...
She loved you no matter what you did. No matter how much you tried to push her away, how often you yelled at her, how much you hated her... she always came back. Always willing to be with you. Always willing to sacrifice.
For you.
Somehow, the thought is comforting. You're sure that, even in her death, she would be thinking about you. Even while knowing what you did to her, she would be there for you.
If she could be here with you, right now, she would be nuzzling you. Comforting you. Telling her how much she loved you.
You wish... You almost wish that she was...
“Hi, Anon.”
You scream, nearly jumping to your feet at the sight of her, keeping to mind your hurt foot.
No. No. This can't be real.
“D-Derpy?”
She stands before you, looking as real as ever. Her eye is back, filling in the empty socket that you saw the other day. The only difference now is that it’s straight as any normal pony's would be.
“I knew you would come back to me, Anon. I knew that, someday, you would realize you love me... even if it took you up until your final breaths.”
She walks up to you. You don't so much as flinch as she sits down before you, leaning into you as she nuzzles your neck.
You can feel her. Her soft, feminine body, her warm breath brushing along your skin as she continues to nuzzle you. Hell, she even smells like all those damn letters she used to carry around with her.
“I-I thought I k-killed you,” you say, still disbelieving even when all evidence points to the contrary.
She gives you a confused look, before letting out a genuine laugh. “Oh, silly Anon! No, I died in the explosion! Don't you remember? Or did you hit your head too hard?”
This is a bit unsettling. She just told you she died, but she's here, sitting in your lap.
Before you can voice your thought, however, another very perturbing one comes to mind.
“Wait... So if I didn't kill you, then who...?”
An innocent, yet somehow very disturbing smile slowly spreads across her face. “I think you know who, Anon.”
No.
No.
No damn way.
“It's okay, though,” she says. She puts her hoof on your chest, softly nudging you downward. “Even if you didn't do it for me... I'm glad you did it. I'm proud of you, Anon.”
Soon, you find yourself on your back, staring up into the mare's entrancing golden eyes. She smiles down at you. “Now, we can be together forever, Anon. You'll never be distracted with another mare again. Just us two, for all eternity.” Half-liddedly, she kisses you on the forehead.
“All you have to do is go to sleep.”
At those words, you suddenly find yourself growing very tired. You try to fight your heavy eyelids, but it very quickly becomes clear that it’s an uphill battle. Thoughts of slumber, of the comforting embrace of sleep entice you, and you soon find yourself steadily falling unconscious.
The headache seems to have cleared up as well, and you feel... happy. Content. Welcoming of whatever awaits you.
“Sleep tight, my Anon,” she utters softly. She lies down next to you, snuggling up against your body.
