Celestia wakes up as a human. But hasn't she always been that way? Or is the doctor at the mental hospital creating false memories? But...why would he do that? He just wants her to get better. Doesn't he?
Celestia wakes up as a human in at a mental ward under the care of a doctor who insists she has always been human.
Note: This is inspired by the concept behind "Believing Stories", my first fanfiction. But, it goes in a completely different direction once I have time and determination to continue it.
The waters beat me. Spinning, shoving, oppressing, choking me as I fight the current. I can’t tell where the surface is. The water is murky and the light comes from all around me. Tremendous pressure builds in my chest and I. Can’t. Breathe. More than anything I need to breathe. I can’t touch the surface. Where are my wings to push me through the water? My legs flail.
I’m drowning.
Somepony help! I’m drowning!
I’m dying. I’m completely conscious of life leaving my body. But why am I dying in this form? Why is my magic gone?
I am soaked in sweat when I wake up. My throat stings with each gasp. Shivers pummel my body. All the hairs covering my skin stand up. Every muscle I can feel is tense.
I can’t feel my wings. My hooves are gone. Where are my hooves?
A square of light hovers above my head and before my eyes on a white ceiling. This isn’t my room. My teeth sound like they’re tap dancing against each other. My forelegs are bent up against my chest. I can’t feel my hooves, my mane, my wings, or my magic.
I look down at myself and see odd appendages curled up around a blanket, holding it close to me... but this isn’t my body. Yet... when I think these appendages respond. They can sense that I am cold, touch the leathery tips of each other, feel the fibers of the blanket. They reach out toward each other and one touches the tip of the other. The sensation is cold, smooth, soft.
I move these strange instruments of mine towards where I feel my face to be surrounding my eyes. My face.... What does my face look like? I can feel a soft protuberance around my mouth that rises gently from the round shape of my head. My mouth? Is this tiny thing my mouth? My whole head is now an odd angular egg shape.
I feel my tongue in my mouth as I brush it against my short row of teeth. At least I have those still. I breathe in and bring the tips of my... sensors to a slanted pyramid starting between my eyes. This must be where I can breathe along with my mouth. There are nostrils that move with each breath.
My... What are these appendages that have replaced my hooves? They seem too sensitive to walk on. They must only be for feeling and... grasping? Almost like my magic, these things could hold and move. But my... sensors it is then... they cross a bare forehead. No more horn. No more magic. I shiver and the strange limbs attached to my shoulders wrap around me instinctively. Every part of me is shaking, perhaps from shock.
This is all wrong. What have I become? I’m not home. How am I here and why? What did I do to get here and... how can I get back? My limbs move cautiously as I push myself from the bed to sit in a very unusual manner for me. Still, it feels natural; like I should sit this way.
The light green blanket covers what I feel to be my legs. But, they’re bending the wrong way. I cautiously lift the blanket to look at what has happened to my legs. I noticed that I am covered with clothes. Soft blue plain clothes balloon from my thin body. Two thin legs bend to meet my torso. They end in something like my sensors but... different somehow. They must be made for walking since they’re at the bottom of my form. I probably stand on them too instead of my hooves.
No, this is just wrong. This is not my body! I hug the joints of my legs and shuddered. I’m not warm enough.
A click. There’s a grinding coming from the door as the gears are shifting to open. I cover myself and shiver. I’m curious but terrified. A strange creature opens the door with sensors much like mine. The arrival’s eyes study me almost in wonder. Does my face look like that too? I reach behind my head to feel that my mane is cut short. The other creature’s mane is tied behind her head tightly. It’s curly and different shades and hues of bronze mixed with gold and the cool rays of the moon.
The new creature smiles at me.
“Hello. How are you?” a voice with the enchantment of childhood still in it asks, as if reaching out to calm.
“What...am...I?” I ask.
“I’m...I’m sorry, can you explain that?”
“What...am...I? What creature am I?”
“I see...Well, you are a human.”
“Human?”
“Yes. Are you cold?” She asks me suddenly. Her concern is visible.
“Very.... What am I doing here?”
“Do you...remember anything?”
“I...I was underwater....”
“Yes! Yes, you were once. Do you remember anything else?” I shook my head. How did she know? She...looks like something I’ve heard of. A faerie? Goblin? No...
“Human...” I say without realizing it. The female looks at me and slowly nods her head then speaks to me as if I’m a mere filly.
“Yes... So all you remember is the drowning?”
“Drowning?” I ask, my heart clears my body of blood before pumping again.
“Yes...your nightmare?” she looks at me, searching for something, “Well, it is a start at least.... Can I get you another blanket? Every part of you is shaking.” I pause then nod my head. The human gives me a gentle smile and leaves, returning too soon for me to think.
Another human, much taller with a graying goatee on his face, follows her and watched closely as she tenderly wraps the fresh blanket around my shivering shoulders. She lays her own sensor on top of mine. Who is this other human? Why do I feel so unsettled by his eyes? They’re dark brown. I shouldn’t be bothered by them but something in me.
“Temperature?” the other human asks. The hair rises on the back of my neck. My eyes narrow.
So that is why. I might have guessed. A rod is swiped across my forehead and my glare is broken in surprise.
“It’s 97.7; close to her normal temperature but still a little cold. Her hands are clammy too. She’s covered in sweat and talked about drowning. Probably a memory.” I look to where she is touching me. So...those are hands then that my limbs ended in. That makes sense. Somepony could hand things with it.
I forget that and look at the other creature. He just had to speak again for me to be sure....
“Well, I’ll turn up the temperature a bit. We’ll give her another injection....”
“Discord...” I spit under my breath. He hesitates. The other human backs away but looks ready to pounce.
“I’m sorry but I didn’t catch that...”
“Don’t play your games, Discord. I know you too well. What is the plan now? Make me mortal? Kill me? Take back Equestria?”
“I’m sorry but I’m not.... What did you call me?” I scoff and see the other one tense up.
“Discord. Have you forgotten who you’re up against?” He shifts but keeps his brown eyes locked on mine.
“Who are you then?” he asks, calmly.
“I am Princess Celestia. Bringer of Order, Raiser of the Sun, Ruler of Equestria, Sovereign of all lands,” I say, narrowing my eyes for emphasis. “And I am the alicorn who turned you to stone. Do you really think this game of yours is going to work?”
The female steps towards the door as I keep eye contact with the male. He doesn’t break the line of sight.
“ Now Ashlyn, we are trying to help you recover. We are not trying to hurt you or kill you. You are here for your own safety and recovery. We are here to help you but only if you work with us. to do that... you need to trust us. We will come back later,” he says, giving an urgent nod to the other human who crosses behind him to the door. She leaves it open for him to walk through. He keeps his eyes fixed on me until the door blocks him from sight. But...why would he just leave like that? Normally he would be happy to be discovered. He’d reveal himself and brag about his genius.
It’s not possible. He is Discord and the female is his accomplice. He’s just...different this time. He’s just being careful for once. I pull the blanket closer and feel soreness on my arms. I peek under the blanket and see each of my arms had multiple purple circles, like mold, spread over my pale skin.
What have I been injected with? How long have I been here?
“Luna?” I ask the room. I don’t know why. It’s just seems like...maybe she’ll hear me somehow. I call again, “Luna, if you can hear me...please. I need you. Please get me out of here!”
The square that was above my head is quickly moving away. I turn to look behind me; my heart drops. A lattice closes me into the room. I’m unable to reach the window. I can see the sun falling through the black bars. The moon would be up soon. The unicorns can raise and set the sun...but would Luna still control the moon?
I place my hooves, for I don’t know what else to call them, on the frigid tiles and use the bed to balance myself as I slowly straighten my back. My mind knows I don’t belong in this body. I wish fervently for my wings so I can balance myself. I lift one hand off the compressed mattress and reorient myself before glancing to the window again. The sun was almost gone behind guarding wall of pines. I slowly lift my other hand and stand with my hooves as my only support. I keep wanting to lean forward on my hands but I know I should be capable of using this body as easily as Discord can. No matter how long it takes I will learn to walk like a human so I’m not confined to my bed here.
I lift my right hoof ever so slightly and glide it over the dull tiles. There is an initial unbalance but I soon orient myself again. I take another short step, like a filly dragging its hooves. The next step is too rushed and I sway before crumpling onto my hands and knees. From this squatting position I crawl across the floor to the bars and use them to pull myself up.
I don’t care how long this will take; I am going to see if my sister will raise the moon in this sky that races to darkness.
“Ashlyn.” I hear while something presses down on my right shoulder. I blink my eyes carefully in the bright room. It’s the woman in light blue clothes who woke me up. My stomach is incredibly uneasy.
“What...” I begin before my eyes slide closed and I roll over onto my side. Now my stomach is not only threatening to explode but it is also eating itself alive. Groans erupt from me without my consent.
“I’ll bring you your painkiller.” she says and leaves my bedside. My clothes swaddle me. Why did she have to wake me up?
Sweat has obviously been my constant companion for a while. The clothes on my bed and my body cling to me uncomfortably. The nurse enters the room again with gloves on and a capped syringe. I push against the mattress but the blankets hold me back.
“No, I don’t...”
“It’s for your own good...” she says, approaching me.
“No...No, get away from me!” I have no idea what is in that needle but I don't want to find out. A woman, slightly older than the nurse slinks into the room. She doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me with ice gray eyes. Her lip bends somewhere between a sneer and rage.
“I can hold her down if you like...” she says deliberately, taking her time picking each word. The nurse looks back. Her voice shakes when she addresses the other woman.
“No, thank you. Why don’t you find Dr. Cruebel?” A scream travels from my body to my mouth and pulls tears from my eyes as it escapes. I have no willpower to push off the nurse who injects me none too gently. I have time enough to clasp my eyes shut before I realize the pain is quickly dissolving.
Oh wow. This is wonderful. My eyes open again. The pillow beneath my head is as soft as the Cloudsdale ground. Everything is so bright and sleepy. I’m floating.
The nurse and the other woman move slowly. A choreographed act where the nurse throws the needle away as the woman leaps towards her, her teeth showing.
“Dad!” I hear her screaming as the woman’s teeth clamp on her neck.
Am I dreaming? Everything is so beautiful. Colors...I’ve never even seen these colors before. The agony caused by their beauty rips at me. Other colors I cannot name mix and play like butterflies in a shifting sky. Green flocks by and red buzzes past. the sky turns a more uniform blue...
Not blue... Please, not blue.
Too late. The blue is glowing thicker with white scrambling around inside, trying to escape. It needs to help me! Come back! I can’t breathe!
Somepony help me! I’m drowning!
I sit up in a dark room, cold. Yes, this is my room in this...whatever this place is. I’m shaking off some sort of temperature. My stomach is sore and gurgling and a sharp smell warns me that I have thrown up. The room is not entirely dark. A carpet of light is rolled out from the door to show a patch of yellow roses...
Roses don’t grow on tile...unless someone powerful puts them there. My blanket slides to the floor as I carefully stand on my hooves. This is most likely a trap, but it means Discord wants to talk face-to-face. It can only mean that. Perhaps I can try to find sense from this. I’d rather not hide anyway.
I don’t know what is coming over me but I’m suddenly self-conscious about my stench. I see a dresser in the room I had not paid attention to. Examining the drawers' contents gives me a fresh set of clothes that I change into. I pull a thick sweater on and climb into a pair of pants. I suppose I would feel odd in pants if I had not been wearing a pair for the past...who knows how long? Days? Weeks?
I slide the drawers back into place and exit the room cautiously. The hallway is clear of any living thing outside of the roses and another type of flower called bird's foot. Of course, I cannot blame any living thing for not wanting to be here. This place is in shambles. Paint and wallpaper pull away from the wall leaving cracks and chalky residue behind. Spider webs curtain the walls and drape from the ceiling. But, I follow the roses and yellow bird's foot, careful to not step on the thorns or petals.
“I do not approve of this, Discord.” I say boldly, keeping my arms to my side. I cannot let him see me as a frightened little filly. My steps falter only for the flowers.
My heart is stopped as the nurse seems to appear from the wall. She walks past me.
“Excuse me...” She grabs my wrist by surprise.
“This is all your fault...” she spits out before tossing my hand away from her and walking away.
“Wait! I want to talk to you!” I call and take a step after her. A door appears between us and slams shut. I control my outburst to be nothing above a deep sigh and turn to follow the flowers.
“I suppose you find this amusing?” I say, finding the halling the nurse had appeared from and turn to enter it. A door peeks open in front of me. Light flows from an office where soft movements and shuffling whisper to each other.
I know this is a trap. I can’t let him know I’m afraid. I straighten my shoulders and stride forward, pulling the door back. Stems of flowers snap and pop as the room beyond the door opens
Chaos. Nothing less than chaos.
Books, knickknacks, candy, and crates are piled from the hideously carpeted ceiling to the floor, which is covered in metal ceiling tiles. Figurines of ponies and humans stand in cages made of feathers, shaking angry hands or hooves. The so-called “doctor” sits behind the desk made from what looks like muffins and toast. I enter to him taking a bite out of his desk before noticing me with delight.
“Ah, Celestia! So good of you to finally show up. Grab a marshmallow, have a seat, help yourself to the desk. You’ve eaten nothing for far too long,” he says with a generous wave of his hand towards a marshmallow that comes to halfway up my leg.
“I prefer to stand. What is this all about?”
“Oh, Celestia, let’s not be so formal...” he laughs. A chair hits me in the back of my legs and I collapse into it as it locks me against the desk.
“This isn’t funny. Why are you doing this to me?” I demand, pushing against the desk as it crumbles onto my lap. He smiles as he rolls his eyes. Why is he still bothering to keep a human form?
“Oh, Celestia, isn’t it obvious?” He chuckles before wiping crumbs from his face with a napkin that flaps away like a bird.
“You’re stealing Equestria from me again?” I sit back in my chair and cross my arms.
“Oh, stealing now? Stealing?” his laugh was a little less carefree, his smile a little forced, “Don’t you remember who ruled Equestria before you and your little sister came?”
“Ponies were miserable under you!” I shout, leaning forwards, “Nothing was permanent. Everything was destroyed so easily without any reason...”
“There was no need to be permanent. Permanence is predictability. Predictability does nothing. At least nopony starved under my reign...”
“Because so many ponies never survived! Hundreds died daily as a result of your chaos...”
“It’s unfortunate, really, because if they had learned to embrace the chaos they would have had fun with it instead of complaining about every misunderstanding.” he says before taking another undignified bite of the desk. I shake my head in disbelief.
“It’s all a game to you...isn’t it?” I say in disgust. His brown eyes turn to me above his smirk as he abandons eating his furniture to sit back. He snaps his fingers and the desk turns into a regular wooden desk which he rests his elbows on.
“Of course it is, Celestia. What else would it be?”
I look away. All this for some fun... My poor ponies. Has he taken over Equestria yet? Or have the Elements of Harmony been keeping him at bay there? Luna...
I keep my eyes open as pressure builds inside of my chest and my eyes cloud over. No. I will not cry in front of Discord. He cannot have that satisfaction. Luna is a smart pony who can handle herself.
“I hate you...” is all I am able to get out before I almost lose control of myself.
“How rude...” he says in an incredibly annoying defensive tone, “And after all I haven’t done to you. Of course there could be...an agreement.” I conceal enough disgust to remain dignified.
“No!” I say blinking my eyes to the ceiling of the room I came from.
I'm back in my bedroom. It’s morning. My door is open. I rise from my bed carefully and realize I’m wearing my pajamas from the day before. But...I changed out of my clothes. Didn’t I?
There is a courtesy knock before the familiar nurse lets herself in. She’s not the angry woman who grabbed my arm last night and said this was all my fault. What could she have even meant? Now she wore a patient smile.
“Good morning, Miss Ashlyn.”
“You were...angry at me last night.” The nurse acts surprised of course.
“About what? What reason do I have to be angry with you?”
“You tell me...” I demand and feel liquid trace my cheek. Where did that come from? I wipe it off.
“Miss Ashlyn,” she says after a slight pause, “Why don’t you change out of your pajamas and get some breakfast? Your medication is there. It’s not as much today...”
“Just awhile ago you were so...”
“Now dear...” she says, taking both my hands and leaning to look into my face directly, “You had a bad dream with me in it. These dreams are normal. You don’t want to be here and you act that out by believing that we’re keeping you here to hurt you. But, dreams aren’t real. If you look hard enough and think about it you can tell what is real and what isn’t. We’re doing what we can to help. You’ve already made progress.” she says, letting go of my hands and leaning back.
“How long have I been here?”
“Have you forgotten? You’ve been here almost a year...”
I choke inside. But...had I really been gone from Equestria for a whole year? Had they put me to sleep all that time?
“But...I...” I scratch away a tear following the trail down my face in frustration.
“Why don’t you get changed?” she suggests with the gentleness of Fluttershy, “You’ll feel better. I’ll come back later to give you your medicine if you feel too sick to eat.” I couldn’t say anything more before she left.
I close my tears inside until my body shakes. I am a Princess of Equestria. Not a fragile human who cries at everything. I stand, waiting for the tears to dissipate. I don’t know how long it is before I move again. All I know is that I’m hungry.
The dresser is in the same spot as before. I sigh as I open it, looking for the outfit I remember from...just moments ago. The burgundy sweater...the dark denim pants...I need socks too. My hooves are freezing.
I pull open the drawer under where my pants were and my mouth falls open. The drawer is filled with notes. Familiar notes. Notes that carry a trace of smoke with their scent. Each is rolled up with a broken seal. My hands shake as I hastily open one up.
Dear Princess Celestia, I am writing to you from the most delightful party. I'm not only having a great time with my friends, but also was given the opportunity to learn a valuable lesson about friendship. Always expect the best from your friends and never assume the worst. Rest assured that a good friend always has your best interests at heart.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle.
I blink at the letter in my hands. As if traveling from the paper, relief flows into me and then shakes me as I laugh. I laugh in short gasps of release. I hurry at putting the letter back into the drawer with its companions and shutting it tight, allowing my hand to rest on the painted wood. My letters. My letters from home. My letters from my brilliant Twilight Sparkle; my world in this drawer. I lean against the dresser and continue to laugh. I know that letter. It is an old one I sent Twilight to help her defeat Discord. One of many from Twilight and her friends...the Elements of Harmony. There is a way out of this. There is a way for them to get to me. I pull myself up and hastily open the door before the nurse can come back and discover my secret. I realize something as I stare at pristine tiles in a sterile corridor leading where I walked...what seems like moments ago and yet days away.
If the notes are real, and I’m really Celestia and not some mad human, what really happened before I woke up?
Rain has made an appointment at the hospital today. I stand in the common room instead of going outside or staying in my room. Behind me two girls argue over a game of chess. Neither of them understands the rules unless the human version really does allow the king to move anywhere as long as there is a queen on a black space. A teenager sits in the corner on the floor next to a perfectly good chair while she tries to teach herself to read upside-down. An elderly lady with cat’s eye glasses sits on a large couch and openly glares at anyone who approaches while she pleats her skirt over and over. Another woman and I stare out different windows at the rain. Her hair is straight but the moisture is making it frizzy. She never smiles and never moves.
I can’t help but scan the grey clouds in search of pegasi. It’s a habit, I suppose, to keep watching them gather the weather and run it on schedule. Weather seems to run differently here. Everything here runs without magic. I don’t know how humans can stand it. I hug myself and glance at the girl again. She’s staring at me and it makes me uncomfortable.
I don’t really want to go back to my room. It’s too quiet there. My letters are all gone and there is only socks. Dr. Cruebel and the nurse denied everything but I’m certain I didn’t just imagine that there was a drawer in my dresser filled with scrolls that had broken seals. They can’t explain the wax on the letters. There is no way I could have made those letters myself.
I hug myself tighter. It could have...not been real though. That day I found the drawer of letters, I had walked to breakfast to find that the nurse, Sarah is her name, hadn’t visited me that morning. Of course she could just be lying...but how could I know? It was right after breakfast when I returned to my room to find the drawer was altered. What bothers me most is these other patients. Why would Discord create other patients to take care of? How real are they? If I touch them would they disappear? If I talk to them will they be real people or just projections to convince me that...
I just don’t want to think about it. I cannot believe this is the only world. It’s too depressing. A few maple trees stand in the outside area beneath the window I’m looking out of. The rain pelts the brilliant orange and red leaves off to join those that have started to decompose to brown on grass that is drowning in umber puddles. There is darkness prevalent over everything here. I can’t believe this is my world. My world is love, harmony, and brightness against the darkness. Everything here is just gray; dark and light mixed so closely it is hard to see either.
I realize somehuman is calling for me when I noticed the other woman at the window respond. I turn my head and hear Sarah call the name “Ashlyn”. I turn to look at her.
“It’s group therapy. Come on now.” she says, not unkindly, but none too patiently.
Wonderful. I have to talk to more humans and wonder if they’re real or not.
The other female and I follow Sarah down the corridor, past my room, and down a set of stairs to another room painted a cozy yellow color with six delicious brown armchairs sitting in a circle around an oval wooden coffee table. As soon as we enter two other females look up at us. One has bright blue eyes that make you wish she would blink when she stares at you. The other is a frail female who looks at me with calmer blue eyes under a curtain of delicate blonde hair. She perks up when she sees me and hesitantly waves her hand to indicate she wants me to sit in the chair next to hers. Hopefully she won’t be offended that I don’t remember her.
Of course I don’t remember her! I never met her! Still, I sit in the chair next to hers and the other patient who came with me sits down on my other side. Sarah sits down next to her.
“Has anyone seen Kerry?” Sarah asks.
“Dr. Cruebel moved her to another group...because of...” the straight haired woman said, giving a quick nod of her head towards me. But why me? What could I have done?
“Ah, I see. Well, we’re very glad to have Ashlyn back with us after her accident.”
“How are you doing?...Oh...I...” the blonde female next to me asks before shrinking back.
“No, Charlotte, that was really good of you to ask.” Sarah says, with encouragement. Charlotte looks at the floor. Every other eye is waiting on me.
“Accident?” I asked.
“Yes, you were catatonic for about a week. We never quite got the story. Either someone did something to you or you did or saw something that shocked you...but, how are you now?”
“I...I don’t know.” I stammer.
“I see...”
“Where is Dr. Cruebel?” the female with straight hair demands, accusingly.
“He’s coming soon, right?” the unblinking female asks, squatting on her chair with her bare feet sinking into the upholstery.
“I’m afraid this week he is not coming. He’s previously occupied and I will cover for him this week.”
“He’s not coming back.” the straight haired female says with a sense of triumph.
“What I was thinking...” continues Sarah, “is that since Ashlyn is having difficulty remembering anything before yesterday, why don’t we reintroduce ourselves to her? Charlotte, you start.”
“But...I...” the female next to me bows her head and gives a sudden sob.
“You can do it. I believe you can do it.” Very slowly the female lifts her head then points her eyes in my direction before looking down again and biting her lip. I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She takes a shaky breath and talks softly.
“I’m Charlotte. I’ve been here for a few months...my family put me here. They love me very much...” she says and stiffens up too much to speak. The female with hair that was progressively growing frizzier looks at me.
“I’m Mel. That’s it.”
I nod, not sure of what else to do.
“I’m Thalia.” the unblinking female says, “I checked myself in. I’m not sure when I realized I needed to be here but I was at this party and...”
She continues to give the whole history of her condition. Rebellion against her parents, getting in with the wrong crowd, being mistreated by multiple humans she trusted. I can’t help but wish I could have made things different for her. She keeps smiling but I can tell it’s a front. She’s trying to be brave.
The session continues and I find myself wrapped up in it. A few times I have to shake my head to remind myself that this is not real. These are characters made to distract me and keep me here. I have to escape; not be “cured” by illusion. After the session we head to lunch with numerous other patients. Charlotte seems to be my shadow. She doesn’t speak much but I can tell she wishes to say something. I’m sick as I look around at other plates of food. I see beef is offered in a stew and wonder how Discord expects me to watch as humans around me eat something I can hold a conversation with.
A nurse comes over to Charlotte and me and leads us to a table where we sit silently. I hope Discord doesn’t try to make me eat meat. A moment later she hands covered dishes to Charlotte and me along with wrapped sets of plastic silverware. She said nothing but sits at a table nearby, looking at each table individually.
“Do they ever talk?” I ask Charlotte. I have to turn my head to see her shake it. I look back at my dish hesitantly before lifting the lid. Oh good. It’s just a salad and vegetables. I unwrap my silverware and hungrily consume the green leaves. After a few bites I look around again.
A few more humans in medical garb are standing around the room, monitoring everything. So they don’t talk. I watch them closely but still catch glimpses of other patients. A teenage female holds a teddy bear. The one attending her is trying to get the younger human to eat but the female shakes her head and hugs her bear tightly. An elderly patient sits at another table while an attendant spoons soup into her barely responsive mouth. Another elderly patient looks around, sobs openly, and a nurse goes to lead her away from an empty plate.
I try to take another bite but I lower my fork again as I keep looking at the other female patients in the room. I just can’t eat here. So many humans sit here with issues so serious they have to stay. But, no, they’re not real. They’re only here to distract me.
The female with the bear hugs it and suppresses her crying with repressed shudders and the nurse attending her sighs, visibly tired. The patient hasn’t even taken a bite of anything yet.
I look down at my food. If I let myself, I can be so easily caught up in everything I see here. These images are not real but they’re so real in a different sense. I can’t stop thinking about Thalia’s story of hurt that convinced her to live a destructive lifestyle. The sound of the rainstorm seems loud to me. Everything is so depressing. How are humans supposed to get better here?
I want to hide somewhere. I want to run so I don’t have to see anything. I glance at Charlotte. She pokes at her food and gives me a small smile. I take a hasty bite and chew. I don’t want to talk to her. The more these patients talk to me the more real they become. They can’t become real if I'm going to save Equestria. I have to find a way out of here.
Charlotte and I spend the meal in silence. As soon as patients begin to leave I follow them and Charlotte shadows me, almost like a child looking for protection. I refuse to acknowledge her as I leave the cafeteria. I hear her footsteps behind me. I run. She runs to keep up but I run into my room and hold the handle so she can’t turn it and follow me.
I’m shaking and I don’t know why. She’s not real. I hear a knock from the other side. Go away. Just go away. You’re not real. I hear a small sniffle as two hooves shuffle away slowly, pausing once before continuing.
“You’re not real...”I breathe deeply to calm down and a sob escapes, “You’re not real. None of this is real...”
What had all those humans in that room been through? What backstory did they have? How could they be so real if this was just a plot of Discord’s? They felt real. My hands shake as they cover my mouth while I slide to kneel in front of my door. None of it is real. Those humans do not exist. The old female’s eyes swam up in my memory and I sob again, harder. That sadness. It's all too real and all too contagious. Humans can be nothing more than an illusion, but their sadness can be real.
I feel ashamed as I wipe my runny nostrils. The old catatonic patient... The female with the bear...
I can’t think about it...I can’t think about it. They’re not real.
I stumble to my bed and hide under the covers without changing into my pajamas. I just cry. I can’t think because if I think about it more, I picture them and I cry even harder. My chest feels tight and my stomach grows more and more nauseated as I continue to sob into my pillow. The old females eyes... The breakdown of the female with the bear... Thalia... Charlotte’s snuffling before walking away... They fuel the grief inside of me that tears won’t diminish. Eventually my eyes are sore and my pillow is disgusting with wiping my face on it. I’m too tired. I’m too tired to care that I'm reasting my head on it still.
I can’t care about them. I have to get out of here. I’m so tired.
Am I sleepwalking? I’m still in my clothes from today. But, it’s night. How long have I been sleeping? What time is it?
Everything sounds empty. The rain has stopped and the full moon stares at me without impediment. Luna? Can you still hear me? How many hours and days have gone by since we last saw each other? I rest my hand on the glass crossed over with wires. I look back towards my bed, realizing the bars are gone. I must be dreaming then. I don’t care.
Movement below me catches my attention. The female I saw attack Sarah is loose. She’s running around like a dog, howling and leaping all over the yard. Shouldn’t someone try to stop her?
Sarah walks out and the female eagerly runs and jumps on her like a canine would, licking her face. I can see Sarah’s laughter as she hugs the patient and lets her drop down on all fours. But, why are they so happy now? What had caused her to attack Sarah before?
I can’t help but smile as I watch them play. Neither cares that the ground is muddy as the patient tackles and is tackled by the nurse. At one point, after both of them have varying degrees of mud on them, the patient slowly stands up with the nurse’s help and hugs her. Sarah hugs her back. The patient’s shoulders shake and Sarah holds her tightly as she leads her back towards the building. I’m sad to see them go. Something about them...felt like home. Like there was something right about them having fun together.
I blink and tears are pushed from my eyes. When I was a pony I used to play with Luna like that, when we were fillies, until the time Discord took over. We had to grow up. I couldn’t frolic with Luna anymore. I had to wear heavy horseshoes and royal jewelry. I had to be a Princess and defeat Discord.
I blink my eyes against the light of the moon. Luna, please tell me you’re real. Please tell me you were not a dream. I love you, my sister. I miss you. Please be real. I don’t want Charlotte and the others to exist. I don’t want that sadness.
I want stillness.
I want the stillness that is so quiet I can hear somepony singing to me miles away. I can almost hear it if I listen hard enough. I can almost hear the stars hum above as the light of the moon vocalizes to accentuate the voice of its Princess. Luna is singing to me tonight. She sings a lullaby I sang to her, when I spent the first night since her birth without her. I had to banish her, but I didn’t have to stop telling her I loved her still. I had no hope. No hope of us being reunited...just like now.
The stillness turns off suddenly when I raise my head to look at the moon. I don’t know if it was my imagination or not, but I still feel comforted to feel as if I can hear her sing to me. It's like I know she’ll get me out of here.
I can’t give up the hope that I’ll see her again. I will see her. We defeated Discord once and we can defeat him again.
I’m looking forward to this appointment. Dr. Cruebel hasn’t entered his office yet but he will soon. I was scheduled to have an appointment with him to check up on my “progress” as they call it. I have a feeling he’s still going to try to play this game of his. No, he hasn’t fooled me.
He enters with Nurse Sarah and sits in a chair adjacent to mine while Sarah sits behind his desk to observe. I still have no idea who she is. I never knew of him having an accomplice before.
“All right, Ashlyn...” he says, pulling out a notebook. His usual white doctor’s coat is discarded on the coat rack and he straightens his sweater and a pair of glasses before continuing, “I know it isn’t fair to see how much you remember since before your accident last week...what’s so funny?”
I shake my head at him with a smile to conceal my irritation.
“You’re still playing Doctor aren’t you? This is getting really old, Discord.”
He sighs, of course, and takes his glasses off to address me.
“Ashlyn. I understand you’ve been through a great ordeal and therefore you want to separate yourself from your real life. However, as we discussed before, your sister would not want this for you—“
“How do you know what Luna does and doesn’t want for me?”
“So...that’s what you call her now...I see.” he says, making a small note, he pauses and takes a slow breath before looking up at me, “I know you two were very close and losing her was hard on you especially. I understand. It’s only normal.”
I couldn’t stop the anger watering my eyes. How dare he pretend to be sympathetic... How dare he! Every curse I could think of calling on him ran through my mind. How dare he say he understands? How dare he act sympathetic! He changed Luna. He took her mind away so I had to banish her. If he hadn't poisoned her with jealousy... How could he possibly understand? I had to banish my own little sister! I had to fight her! And now he was... I can’t even speak. I grip my knees and close my eyes. My stomach wrings itself sick.
“Is she having a fit?” Sarah asks nervously. I feel two strong hands grip my arms to hold me still. I’m shaking. I didn’t even realize I was shaking but now I can’t stop it.
“Ashlyn, listen to me: you could not save her. You did everything you could and you have no reason to hate yourself or anyone for what happened that day. You fought so hard but if they hadn’t dragged you out then you would have died too.”
My eyes open and I stop shaking. They dragged me out.
“They...”
“You were underwater for so long that you were unconscious when they got you back to land. The lifeguard had to do CPR on you. I believe he cracked some of your ribs in the process.”
Someone help me! I’m drowning!
“Ashlyn?”
Why won’t my legs work? I can’t reach the surface.
“Ashlyn? Can you hear me?”
I try to breathe and my lungs fill with water. My chest hurts...
“Ashlyn?”
I can’t breathe.
“What are you doing to her?”
“Maybe this will shock her out...”
“But—”
I he puts his left arm across my shoulders and punches my back directly between my shoulder blades. I take a breath. I can breathe. I can breathe now. The water isn’t here. The water can’t hurt me. I can breathe.
The joints of my hands are visible as I look down on them gripping his arm. The digits of my hand are almost white against the deep burgundy of his sweater. I ease my hands loose but keep them resting on his arm. His own hand stays on my back and his arm supports me until I lean against the back of the chair. My heart panics in my chest and my face burns. I can’t look at him. I feel embarrassed for some reason.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Sarah says in a low, even tone.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“I said you shouldn’t have done that! That was not necessary!”
Dr Cruebel gives an exasperated sigh. “You’re right...that was wrong of me to do,” he concedes, though with some sarcasm, “Please, take her to her room again and watch her. I think she’s been through enough today.”
I’m vaguely aware of Sarah taking my hand and putting her arm around my waist. I follow her mechanically, as if I do not inhabit the body I’m in though it responds to my commands. Sarah turns the handle down and pulls open the door without looking.
The snap of a bark is the only warning I have before a woman jumps at me and I feel her teeth break and sink into the skin of my shoulder. I fall backwards with the weight of her pushing me and something strikes against the back of my head. My eyes turn to static and I’m dreaming.
I place my hands on both sides of her face and stare into her eyes as she smiles.
“You’re here...” I say. She nods.
“You were finally asleep enough. I missed you.”
I hug her. I hold her close and feel her warmth. She’s here. I’m still human but at least she’s here. She’s reached me. Her mane tickles my face. I feel like I haven’t seen her in years. How many days have I been gone?
“I missed you too, Luna." I say, burying my face further into her flowing mane, "Luna, what happened?” I ask, letting go of her enough to look her in the face again. She shakes her head.
“I do not know.”
“It's Discord. He has me in a mental hospital here. He’s pretending to be one of the doctors. I think he has an accomplice. There’s another patient who I think might be real. Everyone else is probably a projection of some sort.”
Luna nods as I speak, then looks away to a gorgeous night sky to ponder. She shakes her head before speaking.
“This is so strange. Who would be his accomplice? What reason would they have to help him?”
“I have no idea...how is Equestria?”
“The Elements and I are keeping ponies calm. We assure them you’re coming back soon.”
“How did you know how to find me?”
“Celestia, you know better than I that skin and bones and muscles are not what make up a pony. You don’t change no matter what form you are in. I found you just as easily as if I was looking for you in your alicorn form. It was simply harder to get to you... You never got into a dream state powerful enough to let me enter without it collapsing. Ponykind has never encountered this sort of magic before. We’re searching for a solution in the library—“
“I remember being underwater. Maybe there is a lake that I was pushed through?”
“We’ll look for that—“
She is interrupted when I feel something poke my arm. I swat at it. Nothing is there.
“Why are there bugs here?” I say and feel a lurch inside of me. My brain and stomach protest and I find myself kneeling on the ground.
“Celestia!” I hear before my head falls back.
My eyes are closed. I wearily open them and into the eyes of...wow I can’t remember her name. There is a female in blue who is looking down at me as she rubs my arm. She hands a medical needle to...I’m certain I know him. He caps the needle and sticks it into a small case.
“Temperature?” he asks and the female swipes a rod across my forehead.
“99.6 It’s a little high compared to her normal temperature but she should be all right.” she says while she touches her hand to various parts of my face, “Her skin is slightly damp but that should wear off with the drug.”
“All right. Ashlyn, I’m going to do some tests to see how you’re recovering from the blow to your head. Keep your eyes on the flashlight...”
My eyes follow the beam for a few moments but I have to close them soon. My head feels like it’s splitting open. I want to throw up. The light click off and I let my eyelids slide back open again. My eyes feel like they’ve been lying in sand. My lips are cracked and I’m sure I look like a mess. I’ve definitely overslept. My spine feels like I need to crack it but when I bend it slightly I feel a wound split open in my left shoulder.
“You have to be careful.” the female scolds me.
“What do you remember?” the male asks.
“I was talking to my sister—”
“Kiera? You remember her? Brown hair? Was a little younger than you?”
“My sister’s name is Luna.” I correct him pointedly. He sighs and rubs the space between his eyebrows.
“Ashlyn, your sister’s name is Kiera and—though it is tragic—she passed away ten years ago.”
“Are you going to try to convince me that I’ve been here for years?”
I stiffen as he leans over me. He has to bend his head downward to look at me with an expression that is borderline fierce. I can feel his warm breath as he exhales sharply. Adrenaline sharpens my senses. I can count the colors of brown in his eyes and almost taste the scent of cinnamon in his breath. He takes a slow breath before he speaks to me,
“You have been here for almost a year. Seven months to be exact. Up until a month ago you were making significant progress in recovery. You know the right answers but you either cannot or do not want to remember them now. Your recovery requires patience and trust. Right now this is another setback. If you trust us you will recover.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you will never leave here. It won't be safe for you to function in society. In short, you will never be you again.” He straightens up a little but doesn’t break his eye contact, “The truth is, I believe that you will keep running if you don’t accept that you are Ashlyn Field. When this...Celestia persona grows old or has her own troubles you will adopt a new personality. But, no matter what, no matter how many times you ‘decide’ who you are...you will never truly know again...unless you decide to be Ashlyn.” he said and stood up from the bed. I look away from him to my left shoulder.
“I think I’m bleeding.” I say. The female lifts my shirt slightly to check a folded wad of gauze taped to my shoulder. I feel my cheeks smolder with embarrassment. She lifts the gauze, untaping it in the process, and reveals a neat line of five black stitches in my skin.
“You got bitten pretty severely. Be careful of these. You don’t want to pull them out by accident. I’ll get you a new bandage.” she says and leaves with the half-red gauze and the case where the needle rests. I resolutely continue to look at my stitches, like bridges crossing a thin red stream that is swelling now and overflowing its banks to trickle away. A strong hand forces me to look Discord in the face.
“Think about what I’ve said. You can invent any excuse to believe what you want, but you can’t change what you are.”
As soon as he takes his hand from my face I look back towards my shoulder. I nod. I don’t understand why I nod but I do. I guess I feel like I have to. We don’t talk after that. He just sits on the edge of my bed facing away from me until the female returns. She tapes a new pad of gauze to my bleeding stitches after wiping the stitches with alcohol.
“Do you need medication or do you think you can handle it?” the female asks.
“I would appreciate it.” I say, wincing at the alcohol which stings my shoulder and burns my nose.
“Just be careful you don’t get her addicted.” the male says, leaving briskly without looking at me. She leaves too and returns momentarily with a needle on a tray that she carefully injects me with. I feel my eyes flutter closed as I hear her leave.
My side is on fire.
I debate calling for help as I open my eyes and bat at the blankets covering my right side. I would sit up or leave my bed but soon the heat is gone and I hear a crinkle of paper. My heartbeat intensifies as I slide my hand under the covers to retrieve a sealed scroll. I open it and my lips part in a smile as I recognize the writing instantly.
Dear Princess Celestia,
We are trying to figure out a way to rescue you. Right now Luna’s dream connection could be the only thing that can connect our worlds. We will try to gather information that way...
My eyes fall closed before I can finish reading the letter. There are so many colors and they want to rock me to sleep. They leap over me as I sink into them, lying on my back in an undulating hill, unable to follow their antics. I’m exhausted. Red and yellow are talking too loudly. Finally, blue is here with scented lavender to calmly shush me. Am I asleep yet?
I open my eyes when I hear wings flutter. Four deep blue hooves with silver shoes land next to me. I smile. I knew she would come. I stand up, feeling pain in my shoulder, but looking to find no gauze or stitches there. I reach out my hands towards her. She rests her head on my sore shoulder and I close my eyes as I hug her.
“I knew you would be able to make it...” I say.
“Did you miss me, Celestia?” an unwelcomed voice ask as a claw wraps around my back, “I missed you...”
I push back. How did Luna turn into Discord? Why is he in my dream?
“Get off of me!” I feel his laughter shake me as he lets go and I fall backwards. Nothing catches me.
It’s amazing how easy it could be to fall asleep if the desire is strong enough to stay awake. Every time my eyes want to close I press down on my stitches. The pain wakes me up for awhile. I can’t fall asleep again. I still feel the moment I realized in my dream that I wasn’t hugging Luna. Every time I remember that moment, I roll away involuntarily as if I’m escaping Discord’s reach. I feel the stitches pull but even if they open again, I don’t care. I just don’t want to fall asleep.
How many more hours is it? I could check the clock in the hall but whenever I move to sit, my head reels and I have to lie down again, pressing on my stitches to keep from passing out. I have a delicate balance to maintain between passing out from loss of blood and falling asleep from lack of pain. I try to keep my mind occupied but no matter what I think about, I find myself blinking for too long and having to wake myself up before I enter a dream again.
Of course not getting sleep makes me cry at everything. Remembering when I saw Luna in a dream? I cry. Remembering the hug Discord gave me before I told him to let me go? I cry. Remembering Twilight and her note, which I can’t read because the moon is too dim and I can’t reach the light switch? I cry. Think of Thalia’s past of abusive boyfriends? I cry. The old woman with miserable eyes? I cry.
Although, technically I’d cry over those things anyway even if I was still an alicorn. I wipe my aching eyes that have spilled all their tears. Maybe if I keep feeling sorry for myself I don’t have to dream. I turn over on my left side and enjoy the pain I feel. Pain means I’m awake. Pain means I’m safe. The more awake I am...the further he is from me.
Stay awake, Celestia. You have to stay awake. I press my shoulder so hard I gasp. I might have just ripped a stitch. I smell iron and see red. My hand is sticky and stained with my own blood. Maybe I should try to find someone to help me stop bleeding. I don’t want to pass out.
I roll over onto my back again as my eyes threaten to turn to static. I can feel myself growing pale. How did it ever get like this? Weeks ago I could never have imagined that I would be a human bleeding to death in a mental hospital. No matter how it is said, it still sounds unreal. I risk closing my protesting eyes for a moment of rest. I never expected to die a human. I never thought...growing up as a filly with Luna and my parents...finding my place in Equestria...I just never thought I would be a human; about to die or so close to dying. Death would be an escape...an escape where he could never reach me. I could hide from the bad guys for once...and forever. I’ve always had a destiny prescribed for me. Could...death in this form be another kind of freedom?
“Twilight.” I say without realizing it. Once I say her name, that name echoes back even when the sound of my voice is gone. Luna and Cadence can wait for forever to get me back. Twilight...can’t. I clutch my blanket to my heart and my eyes make more tears as I open them again to the ceiling. She can’t wait for me. I won’t watch her grow up and become the unicorn I know I will be proud of. She’ll grow old...she’ll die. I knew she was going to die and I would have to let my student go...my protégé. I always thought I would be able to say good-bye. What was the last thing I said to her?
I told her I was proud of her. Small comfort. At least I left her with words that I wouldn’t regret. I arch my neck as I sob openly. The room spins but I allow my tears to continue their journey from my open eyes. I won’t be able to say good-bye to her. She’ll always be wishing she could have...the Elements of Harmony...I love each of them so much, but Twilight...she’ll feel this hardest. When she has a moment to stop and think, after things calm down, she’ll wonder...she’ll miss me.
How long will it take for things to return to normal? How long until Luna...gives up trying to find me? Was that really Luna I saw in the dream last night? Or can she not reach me here? I cover my eyes with my hands. If that was really just a dream, a dream where Luna wasn’t actually there, is there even any chance she could reach me that way? Or am I really stuck here for the rest of my life? How long is that now that I’ve lost my immortality?
My eyes close and I wonder even more if my mortality will hold off through this night. I don’t know how many hours more I need to stay awake for but I don’t think I can make it. Finally, I close my eyes.
I can keep fighting sleep, I can keep protesting my fate, and I can stay here miserable for however many more years I have left...or hours. But, eventually my eyes cannot be kept open on willpower alone, my fate will not change because I am powerless to change it, and...I will end my life a coward, dreading my death.
It’s easier to let myself fall asleep.
The black behind my eyelids blankets me with relaxation. I feel cradled in my bed, welcomed by my pillow stained with tears and blood, and soothed by the blankets that soak up the life pouring from me. I don’t know what horrors await me in my dreams. All I know is that I have a moment between dream and consciousness where I am safe. None can reach me here, and I don’t have to question anything.
In my dream I am in the water again. Now it is different. I don’t struggle against the current. I watch the light float away from me as I sink, the pressure of the water crushing my body and breaking me. My lungs scream but I say nothing and don’t stop the flow of bubbles tickling my lips. I touch the ocean floor and close my eyes, leaning my head back into the soft sand.
It’s easier to fall asleep.
And as I sleep, I’m only vaguely aware of the name “Ashlyn” being called in panic. Pressure is put on my back before it goes numb. It’s easier this way. No one I love will have to know.
“Breathe!” echoes down to me. My body begins to tingle. I feel a sharp pinch...or is it a needle?
“One. Two. Three."
I feel like my eyes are drowning.
"Four. Five. Six. Seven."
I can barely hear over the sound the a violent wind rushing in my ears.
"Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve."
My whole body is numb but I can feel a tingling waking up my hands and legs.
I just want the pain in my body to stop. I try to move my hand and the pain worsens there.
"Breathe!” I feel slight pressure on the back of my neck and face. The light is no longer filtered by water.
“Come on. You’re in there. I know it. Wake up!” I hear Dr. Cruebel say. I don't want to move anything again. I want to stay still so it doesn't hurt so much.
My ribs snap and I’m given no choice. The stings of a thousand bees makes contact with anything I move as my body jerks in response to the new pain. I open my eyes and take a deep breath. Sarah pants, her elbows locked as her hands hold each other on my chest.
“Take another breath. Come on!” Dr. Cruebel demands. I faintly obey him, feeling the breaks in my ribcage. I notice a bag of blood hangs next to me with a tube going into me. I blink in the light when I try to look up. I take shallow breaths and close my eyes, feeling a hand slide from under my neck. I smell my own blood. Someone holds something cold to my shoulder.
“Why didn’t you call for help? Didn’t you realize what was happening?” Sarah asks, standing back. I can’t answer. It seems so silly even though it was moments ago. Besides, my jaw feels fine now but if I move it I might get stung again.
“As soon as you’re done dressing that we’re taking her to the room. I believe this was intentional.” Dr. Cruebel says to a male nurse who nods silently. He turns back to look at me. I avoid looking at him but I can’t avoid hearing him.
“Why...how could you consider letting yourself bleed to death? Whatever it is you’re avoiding, this wasn’t the way out. But now I can’t trust you and we’re going to be keeping you under stricter watch until you can be trusted again.”
I carefully take the largest breath I can with broken ribs.
“I had a nightmare...” I say simply.
I feel another needle slide into my skin. I’m only vaguely aware when the straps tighten across my body. Something soft and warm is draped over me and a thin pillow is placed under my lifted head. Within moments I fall into a dreamless haven.
I wake to nothing. I don’t know how long I have been asleep but I wake wanting more rest even though I feel like I’ve slept for days or weeks. Then again...it’s not rest I want, not normal sleep; I want to be free of dreams. I’m scared because I know when I fall asleep again I will dream. I’m scared that what I trust will turn into what I hate. I hate sleeping with the help of drugs...but they block my dreams.
The note in my room will be gone if I ever go back to my room. They’ll find it and take it. It may have never even existed. The male nurse who strapped me down, he felt real enough. I stare at the ceiling above me and think of the faces I've seen here. What events led to them being brought here? Mel, so shut up inside herself, hiding something. Thalia, Charlotte...the other patients.
I look down at my left shoulder. It still groans and strains against the movement of my stitches. I laugh to myself as my eyes grow wet again. I almost let myself die. Stupid Celestia, you nearly let yourself die. What right have you to call yourself a Princess? You couldn’t fight Chrysalis, you couldn’t defeat Discord by yourself, you can’t wield the elements of Harmony, and you can’t even...
I swallow. That thought. That is it. That is what has been bothering me.
I hate these straps. I want to curl up, shield myself from any thought, aggravate my stitches and avoid it...
I couldn’t save Luna.
My bitterness chokes me. I couldn’t save her from Discord. I couldn’t save my own sister. Anything I said to convince her fell on unwilling ears. Of course...I noticed too late. No, that isn’t true. I noticed with plenty of time to change things. She and I were meant to rule together.
I wanted to challenge that. I thought I could have everything: the sun, the moon, the praise, Equestria. Discord took away the one thing I thought I could take for granted...and I helped him. I thought...I thought I could deal with it later. But, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t save my sister.
I’m never going to see her again. She can’t forgive me even if she wanted to.
I strain against the straps that hold me down. I don’t normally sleep like this. Maybe being strapped to the table this way will help me stay awake. At least someone covered me with a blanket to keep me warm.
Ok, I am having trouble concentrating. How did I get from my sister to my blanket? I laugh and I don’t know why. But, it feels good to laugh at myself. Where was I again?
I stare at where the ceiling meets the wall. I keep trying to recall what I was thinking of just moments ago. The harder I chase after my mind the farther it seems to run from me. I sigh. Of course now I’ll be bothered by a constant nagging feeling until I figure out where my train of thought was. Is this part of being human?
Even my thoughts seem to be irritating to me. They just ramble on in wild directions. I want to tell myself to shut up, but this is my own mind and I’m the only one in the room. Saying “shut up” out loud might earn me a few extra weeks in here.
Stupid. What did I think letting myself bleed to death would accomplish? If I’m so scared of drowning, why have my last few brushes with death involved me no longer breathing? Can I actually...drown myself just by thinking?
That’s ridiculous. What are you talking about, Celestia?
Am I arguing with myself? Of course I am, no one else is here to talk with me or argue with me.
I lean my head back into my pillow and groan at my own thoughts. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I get my head to shut up? I’m so tired. I’m just so tired. No! Stay awake, you have to stay awake, Celestia! You fall asleep and Discord wins.
I can’t help but laugh at my own thoughts. They would sound so funny out of context...at least they would to me. No, I am tired. They would not be funny if I was more awake.
I look around the empty white room. I’ll try to stay awake. I turn my head enough to look at where my bandaged shoulder lies under my shirt. I’m not going to aggravate it to stay awake this time. I don’t want to have to be brought back to life again. What else could I think of before I pass out from exhaustion? I just woke up but I...don’t feel like I slept enough and that I have to go back to sleep.
Will sleep just shut up and quit bugging me?
The door opens and Dr. Cruebel enters with two orderlies, one male the other female. He walks over to me and takes the blanket off.
“Unstrap her. “ he says to them and the straps are loosened.
“I don’t understand...” I say as the female puts her hand behind my back and helps me sit up.
“Hopefully the sleep has helped you. We’re going to do a therapy session now. Do you want to get changed before, though?”
I look down at my sweaty and bloodstained nightclothes before nodding. He gestures with his hand for me to follow and I obey. Maybe the drugs are the cause but I feel disoriented, like everyone and everything is shouting for my attention. I want to cover my ears but I just hug myself and walk next to Dr. Cruebel as he walks me upstairs towards my room, supposedly.
Everything happens too quickly for my mind to remember anything I do before I find myself sitting in an armchair adjacent to Dr. Cruebel.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“What did you knock me out with?”
“A...powerful sedative. We needed you to be out while we re-stitched your shoulder.” he leaned forward in his chair and brought the tips of his hands together, “Now, is there anything you want to tell me about what happened two nights ago?” His eyes looked into mine. I look away and say nothing. “I see. Let me ask you a different way: what prompted you to aggravate your stitches?”
“I...” I shrug. He knows. Why is he acting so different? “Honestly, can you really not figure it out?” He shakes his head. “You were there, last night. I went to hug Luna but she turned into...into you! The last thing I wanted was to fall asleep again.”
“Ashlyn, you’ve been bothered by your dreams ever since you first came here. You don’t have to be scared of something that you see in your mind. Your dreams aren’t real.”
“Stop.”
“What?”
“No, stop it. I’m sick of this, Discord! The first night I came here you led me to your office and tried to get me to give Equestria over to you.”
“I don’t know what you’re—“
“Don’t lie to me!” my voice almost scares me, “Don’t you dare lie to me! Don’t lie to me. I can’t...”
He says nothing. I lean forward with my face in my hands. A tissue box appears when I open my eyes and I snatch one to wipe my face. For a while I just cry, wipe my face, and toss the tissue into a wastebasket that is scooted towards me.
“Ashlyn, this...Discord persona. I can’t help but wonder what your reason was for creating him. You...take the blame for the consequences of what happened to your sister...but is there something else—“
“Shut up!”
“Was there anything wrong between you and your sister? A quarrel that you never resolved?”
“Shut up! Just shut up! It’s your fault!”
“Ashlyn, you won’t get better if you avoid the question. What do you feel guilty about?”
“Nothing.” I hiss and throw another tissue into the waste bin.
“Ashlyn, why won’t you let me help you? This guilt has been lying unconfronted inside of you ever since your sister passed away.”
“Just...stop. Luna is alive and she’s going to get me out of here.”
“Kiera would not want this for you. No matter what you feel guilty about, you need to face it, not push it off onto someone else.”
“Just stop it!”
“Are you asking me to stop because you believe I am Discord here to hurt you? Or is there something you honestly refuse to face?”
My mane was too short to grab when I first woke up here. Now, my hands grip hairs that are almost two inches long. I don’t know how to answer him. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to sleep again and dream like I did in Equestria or even better, just not dream at all.
“Ashlyn?”
“I’m so exhausted. I don’t want to sleep except I want it more than anything!" my voice is almost a wail. "I don’t want to dream but I want to dream because perhaps I can reach Luna that way...” I guess I don’t tend to listen to myself when I talk. Usually my brain is talking too loud for me to hear my voice. So much noise...but I feel odd when I listen to myself.Maybe I’m having an out-of-body experience? I don’t know. It’s like I have to remind myself who I am and saying Celestia makes me confused. Of course saying Ashlyn doesn’t make me less confused. I just...I want to sleep but I know I shouldn’t. Or should I?
“My name is Celestia... My name is Ashlyn... My name is Celestia.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to figure out which name makes more or less sense...neither of them seem to belong to me. I’m so tired...I’m so...tired. I don’t want to be scared to fall asleep but something makes me that way—”
“No, you can fight this. You're so much stronger than you realize. You don't have to live in fear like this. You can’t stay questioning everything about yourself. You have to decide who you are based on if you are willing to take the risks that will come from choosing to be one person or another.”
“No, I can’t change who I am...”
“What if you are Ashlyn Field? You have a house and a horse in Pennsylvania. You have a peaceful life to return to. Yes, you’ve lost something very dear to you, but you can keep going and learn to be happy again. Your sister would not want you miserable.”
My eyes are closed as tightly as I can close them. What if I am just a human? Maybe I have the memories of another life hidden inside of me.
I’m so tired.
“Ashlyn,” he says. I open my eyes. He’s holding out a mirror to me. I’ve only seen my face reflected in windows or shiny surfaces. A mirror is something different. A mirror is there only to show you what you are unless it’s been enchanted. But enchantment doesn’t live here. My fingers close over the plastic edge and touch the cold surface, leaving a pool of heat radiating from my hand. He lets go and I bring the mirror towards my face and look into it.
Bones. My cheekbones are prominent because my face is so thin. My skin is pale except for two dark semi-circles under my eyes. My lips and my skin are the same waxy yellowed color. My eyes are dark green and bloodshot from crying or lack of sleep. My hair is short and dark red. I’m terrifying. My collarbone looks like skin was wrapped over it with the muscles left out.
“No...”
“It would break your sister’s heart to see you like this. That much I can say for her.”
I run my hand through my short, unwashed and clumping hair. I’m hideous. How could Luna have hugged me if I looked like this? How could she have not commented?
“I know you look like a mess now. I’m not going to say you don’t. You’ve barely eaten or slept for days. What’s causing it?” he asked, almost as if he knows the answer but wants me to say it. I give the mirror to him and my hand falls back to my knees.
“I am.”
“Yes... We can help you, Ashlyn. You’re going to have to trust us here. Think about it. I don’t want to push you. But please, ask if you can trust us.”
I’m still drugged and he asks me to decide. I don’t care what he says; I feel like I’m being pressured. How could I possibly trust him? Would trusting him keep him from my nightmares? Would I rather have a dead sister or a sister...that I couldn’t save?
“My choice won’t change who I am...”
“Go ahead and take your time.”
Celestia, you know better than me that skin and bones and muscles are not what make up a pony. You don’t change no matter what form you are in.
What risk is involved in me choosing to be Ashlyn? If I am Celestia, I will be Celestia. I will find my way back...even if in spite of myself. If I am Ashlyn...trying to be Celestia will never happen. It won’t be able to happen.
I’m helpless. I’ve felt helpless before. I hate it, especially when I’m helpless because of...because of Discord.
If I really am Ashlyn, Discord isn’t real. None of the threats of Equestria are real.
I’ll lose Luna. I’ll lose Twilight.
If they’re not real, I’ve lost nothing.
I've made my decision but continue to argue for and against it. I close my eyes to block out the noise of sight. I can argue with myself for hours. This decision seems logical except it doesn’t make any sense. I can’t keep arguing. I can change my mind later.
I wipe my cheek and breathe deeply before opening my eyes. I finally look at him.
“Ok...”
His eyes glimmer just a little more when he smiles.
“I’ll have Sarah take you back to your room for now. She’ll be watching you. I will be moving you into another room with a roommate. At this moment I want you to sleep. We’ll finalize everything while you’re napping.”
I groan. I’m not used to having things done for me while I’m napping. This is going to take a while.
“Sarah!” he calls towards the door. No answer. “Sarah, could you come in here please?” After no response he rises out of his chair enough to shout towards the door. “Screwball, I know you’re listening behind the door now will you please come in here?”
“Why do you set your alarm if you never wake up to it?”
“Because it wakes you up.” I reason, sitting up to stand. She laughs and leaves the room to give me privacy. I go to the dresser and change into lighter clothes. I was worried a few weeks back that I would have to wear my winter clothes all through the spring. Sarah told me they had some in storage for when I needed them.
Things have settled down, I guess. Charlotte and I have settled into our routine as roommates. While part of me would rather have a private room, I know I would miss the companionship.
After I straighten my t-shirt, I glance at my pillow. No, probably not yet. It was too early to check. I brush my hair that is inching down my shoulders and then meet Charlotte in the hall. I’m glad she stays with me for most of the day.
I’m still in private therapy with Dr. Cruebel but he claims it will be good for her and I to not spend time with only each other. There are other patients who struggle and need a friend, he says.
I push the door to the cafeteria and head towards the table to pick up my medication for today. I guess I can understand what he means. If I had to spend the day without Charlotte, or anyone else for that matter, in this place, I probably wouldn’t have half a chance. Still... how much longer am I going to be here anyway?
“Morning, Ashlyn.” Sarah says and hands me my medication through a window outside of a cafeteria. I frown when I glance at the pills and see fewer than normal.
“Um...there’s less in here than there was yesterday.”
“Yes,” she says without explanation.
“Am I going to get the doses more frequently then?”
“You can’t spend the rest of your life on drugs. We talked about this.”
“Yeah...I just thought...” I leave the sentence hanging.
“You’ve already been on this medication longer than you should. It’s time to get you off of it. Here you go, Charlotte,” she says, ending the discussion as she hands Charlotte her medication.
Charlotte and I eat breakfast in silence. Instead of talking, we eat as quickly as possible so we don’t have to look at the other patients.
The girl with the teddy bear still has to be forced to eat. Her teddy bear stays with her even though it is quite bedraggled at this point. She’s gotten pushy lately, shoving orderlies away who try to bully her into eating. She looks like I did the first time I looked in a mirror, except her black hair is starting to fall out. She’s just one of the things I have to look at while I eat. I can’t tell if she’s here for an eating disorder or paranoia. Could be both at the same time or one causes the other. Many of the other patients I saw my first day here, that I remember, are gone.
As soon as we’re done eating we leave the cafeteria to go outside. Patients are allowed outside twice a day in two different time slots per gender and level of mental health. Charlotte and I sit at our usual bench facing a green-tipped tree. I close my eyes and lean my head back to soak up the warmth of the sun.
“I’m glad it’s nice out today. I hate it when it’s rainy like it’s been.”
“Yeah,” I say in agreement, ”I hate being cooped up. I can’t wait until I’m out of here.”
“So when is your appointment?” she asks. I pause, confused.
“Appointment?”
“Oh...I thought you were already in the process of getting out...I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean appointment?”
“Well... I wish I hadn’t said anything. Ashlyn, I’m sorry, but I’ll come back to visit you until you get out...”
“You’re...leaving?” I ask, unable to believe what’s happening.
“Yes,” she says with a reluctant nod of her head, “I meet with Dr. Cruebel later today. He’ll decide officially then if I am ready to leave.”
I remind myself to close my mouth and watch the barbed wire twisted into the top of the chain-link fence. So that was why Dr. Cruebel kept telling me to meet other people. He knew Charlotte was going to leave soon. I mean...I’m happy for her but I never expected her to leave.
“Ashlyn, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have told you or maybe I should have told you differently or sooner.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it. It was bound to happen eventually. I mean...who knows? I might be out right behind you.” I try to joke but I can tell I’m about to cry, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me...” I say, covering my face. I feel Charlotte put her arms around me and rest her forehead against my temple.
“Ashlyn, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how much I am going to miss you. I was scared to death of this place until you came along. I could not have gotten better without you and I promise I’ll visit you.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so selfish. I shouldn’t be crying.”
“Now that’s stupid. Of course you can cry. You’re not selfish; it just means you care.”
I can’t help but smile and laugh at her comment. Yeah...she has changed since I first saw her. How can I get better without her though? I always thought I would have her as a friend here to help support and encourage me. Would I really have to find someone else now?
Charlotte stays with me for most of the time that I am out there. Then she has to leave to attend group therapy. I sit alone for awhile until my face has dried then head inside, feeling a chill as I walk back into the air conditioning and shade of the old building. I glance at a clock on the corridor wall. I have just enough time to run to my own meeting with Dr. Cruebel.
I arrive at the room where I’ve received therapy since I tried to kill myself a few months ago. I guess he figures I’m more comfortable here. No one answers when I knock on the door. Perhaps he’s running late.
Music catches me off-guard. I look down the hall I came from and notice a door is opened a crack. Someone is playing the piano carefully. Each note seems like a lot of pondering went into its placement and execution. I can’t help but be curious and sneak forward to listen. The song sounds familiar even though I’ve never heard it before. I would recognize it somehow if I did. It just...feels familiar I suppose. Against my better judgment I place my hand on the door to crack it open just a little wider...
I jump when Dr. Cruebel grabs the door handle and pulls the door closed. He gives me a stern look as I step back defensively.
“I’m sorry, I just got curious. I shouldn’t have...”
“Curiosity isn’t a problem...except here. I’m sorry I’m late, there was a pressing family matter.” he said with an apologetic half smile as we walk back to the other room. I can no longer hear the music, but it is stuck in my mind still.
I sit in my usual chair, noting the box of tissues and wastebasket are already placed next to me on the coffee table between the armchairs. Yeah, I’ll probably make use of those quite a bit in this session.
“I can’t help but notice that you seem a little preoccupied right now. I don’t want you to feel bad about—”
“Charlotte told me.” I explain. If he keeps talking I won’t have a chance to say anything before I start wailing again. He looks at the notebook in his lap and nods slowly.
“I see. What was your response?”
“I cried...of course. I think I might be starting up again...” I say, and then laugh as tears wet my sore eyes. I grab a tissue and deposit the first victim into the trashcan.
“Nothing wrong with tears. Go ahead and take your time. But, now you see why I tried to get you two to spend more time apart.”
I nod.
“Yeah...too bad I’m stubborn.” I say with a slightly hysterical laugh. I go for the tissue box again.
“I know this is hard for you...both of you. But, I feel like it’s safe for you to be in a private room again and her family situation has improved... It’s safer for her now, at home. Talking with her family has shown me that the safest place for her to be is there at home—”
“I know.”
“It will be easier after some time.”
“I know. I’m just...”
He lets me cry, wiping my tears off and throwing them into the trashcan. I sob occasionally but I try to push it back. When the urge to cry tightens my chest I tense my whole body in retaliation. I will allow a few tears but I can’t blubber like a filly...or a child. Tears are fine...but sobbing is deep and personal. After regaining composure I look up at him.
“It’s not a bad thing to miss someone,” he says as I hand the tissues back to him, “It just means you're human. It’s ok for you to be sad. You can’t just lock the pain away and refuse to cry.”
“I...” I have to stop. I know what I want to say but I have to word it in a way that makes sense. “ When...I was Celestia...I almost never cried...in front of others. I cried once when Luna and I were reunited...I never cried when I was sad. I had to be strong...”
“Strength doesn’t come from hiding tears. It comes when after you’ve finished crying you wipe your tears and try again.”
“I think when Kiera died...when I saw her... Dr. Cruebel, it’s so frustrating. I can almost picture her face clearly. I can see her hair but I can’t see her eyes or her face. It’s all blurry.”
“That probably means you didn’t spend time purposely creating a false memory in your mind.”
“I just... I wish I could see a picture of her...of my family. I can’t see them again and I don’t have memories except for when I almost drowned.”
“How much do you remember from then?”
“Mostly the water filling my lungs. It hurts to think about it.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. That’s it. That and the pain in my chest when my ribs cracked and... Wait...”
I closed my eyes and let my mind return to the moment I almost drowned. The water leaving me as I was dragged from the lake, the pressure on my chest...the pressure on my face and the back of my neck.
“I’d be careful of trying to remember everything. You can’t really force a memory or else you risk creating a new one that never happened. Memories are incredibly fluid things to play with. Think hard enough and you can shape them into anything.”
“You’re right. I’ve told you all I remember.”
“Well, that’s enough then. More genuine memories may come back later after you’ve had a chance to see pictures or videos of your family. You were loved very much. Something like that will stay with you even if you don’t realize it.”
I nod.
“When do you think I’ll be better?”
He took forever to answer. He spent most of the delay brushing imaginary crumbs or eraser bits from his notebook.
“I’m not sure at this point. You were this far last time before you had your accident...”
“Do you think I’m going to relapse again?” I ask. He closes his eyes as he sighs, taking his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose.
“You’re not really an exact science, Ashlyn. I’m not saying you could or couldn’t relapse. It really is hard to say. I would rather you had more of your human memories before we discuss this. Speaking of which...” he checked his watch. “I do have some photographs of your family in my office desk. Our time here is almost up but if you’d like we could quickly go there and I can give them to you to hold on to.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. Thank you.” I say and follow him as he gets up, opens the door for me, and then leads me to his office. I stand in front of the desk as he sits down behind it and slides open a drawer at the bottom right. He removes a plain tan folder and opens it to reveal a few pictures that he slides off into his hand before presenting them to me.
“You tried to destroy these once and we took them away. I’ll, see you next time then.” he says. I quickly nod and give him my thanks then leave the office, looking down at the two pictures in my hands.
The first one is definitely my sister and I. My hair is much longer, halfway down my back, and has a slight wave to it. Kiera...something tells me I remembered her perfectly. She was fair skinned, dark haired, dark blue eyed, and childlike in appearance. We’re making faces at each other. It’s silly...but it’s my sister and a memory I don’t have anymore.
I look at the second picture. It’s all of my family. We’re standing against a split rail fence with farmland scraped over the hills behind us. We’re all posed as if this was a picture to be presented as the example of a perfect family. My sister could almost be my mother’s twin except for the wrinkles and gray hairs that my mother has. I look like both of my parents. My dad has a longer face with my eyes and hair. I have my mother’s complexion and facial structure. That’s all I have of them. Just me and a few photographs. I’m glad Dr. Cruebel saved theses. At least I can see my family. At least we look happy.
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?
The bars are gone from my room. Dream or real I don’t care. I stand in front of the window where only the stars are visible and keep my eyes closed.
I’m holding another letter. It was waiting under my pillow like I knew it would be. It’s a letter I read against my better judgment. Once again...I just don’t know. I have memories but which ones are real and which ones came from suggestion or wishing? This letter is one of many that keep appearing to me lately. I usually throw them away. I used to give them to Dr. Cruebel or Sarah but I just throw them out myself now. Not this one. I opened it and I have no idea why. Now I’m even more uncertain of everything.
Dear Princess Celestia,
It’s almost been a year since you and Luna disappeared. The other Elements of Harmony and I are doing everything we can to keep Equestria stable. It’s not working. We need you because we don’t know what to do.
Please, come back.
Your Faithful Student,
Twilight Sparkle
This brings more questions than answers. Was that one dream really Luna or was that completely fake too? I keep my eyes closed. The moon rose that night. I remember how full and close it seemed. It hasn’t entered the night sky for a while.
Luna couldn’t have hugged me then in my human form. She probably wouldn’t have wanted to. But...what was the other dream then? Could the first Luna have been him? Gah! No, he would never hug me while I’m a human. Besides, he’s not real anyway.
I walk to my dresser and hide the note inside one of my shirts. If this isn’t a dream I’ll find it tomorrow. At first I think the screeching comes from the drawer as I close it. But, when the wood stops moving and the sound is still there I realize something is wrong. Someone is screeching, maybe for help. I press my ear to the crack in my door and listen hard. Someone else will take care of it. I can’t help anyway. I might even make it worse. I open my door to hear if anyone is running to help. All I hear is the screaming.
Sarah’s crying out for help; probably with an unruly patient. I can’t help her. I’m not allowed. The screaming is cut off. I wrap my hands around my neck for warmth as I shiver.
Why did the screaming stop? Why did it stop? Not why did it just stop but why was it...cut off? Why is it so quiet? I smack my ears just to hear them ring. No, I haven’t gone deaf. I want to shout. I want there to be noise. I want to know that everything is all right. She needs to scream again. I need to hear noise. I need to hear noise or find out myself if she's all right.
No, I can't help. I'm not allowed. She could be anywhere. I can't save her...
I can't save her.
I’m running. I don’t know where I’m going but I push open each door I run into. I hear snarling coming but I just run faster. Something is wrong. I push open the last door and stop at the scene before me.
I see Dr. Cruebel first. He stands in front of me, tense. He turns his head slightly at my entry but always keeps most of his face towards something in the room. It’s the woman who bit me. Her bloodshot eyes are dilated as she bares her bloodstained teeth. Blood covers her like a web draped over her face and clothes.
It’s Sarah’s blood. As I look under Dr. Cruebel’s outstretched arm, blocking my path, I see Sarah lying in a growing pool of her own blood. The iron scent reaches my nose and I’m sick to my stomach.
“I wouldn’t normally ask you to do this. But, do you think you can help me?”
“Yes, Dr. Cruebel.” I say.
“I’m going to get Lucy sedated. I want you to put pressure on Sarah’s wounds so the bleeding will stop. Are you ready?”
“Yes.” As I speak he leaps at Lucy. Her eyes widen even more. When she looks at me her mouth opens, hungry to bite again. Dr. Cruebel grabs her left wrist in his left hand and uses his arm to trap her against the wall. Her right wrist is pinned under his elbow and she begins to thrash against him. He uses his left leg to bar her own legs down so she can’t kick him. With his right hand he reaches into his pocket.
I land on my knees next to Sarah’s head. Her left side of her face is painted with a coat of red. Her eyes plead with me. Her sweaty skin is yellow and her trembling lips are lavender. Her shoulder is torn, literally torn. Muscle fibers are frayed and pressed into teeth marks. She’s chilled when I try to use my hands to stop the blood flow. Her eyes dart around. She’s in shock.
She can’t die like this. I almost did and it was hell. She doesn’t deserve to die like this. I begin shaking myself as her blood seeps into my pajamas. My hands aren’t growing sticky because there is still too much blood to keep them from drying. The smell almost grows overwhelming. Sarah can’t even move except for her face. Her breathing grows more and more shallow.
“Please, just try to hold on. Don’t let yourself fall asleep.” I urge her. My knuckles are white under the blood that paints them. A body falls to the floor and I look up to see Dr. Cruebel running away, probably to get some bandages.
I want to wake up. I don’t want to see this happening. My hands are hurting as I keep gripping her shoulder, trying to hold her muscle together so the bleeding will stop killing her. She’s too young to die. Young people die everyday but why does she have to? She’s stopped breathing. I know the sound of her blood stopping creates a deafening scream in her ear. I shout so she can still hear me.
“Don’t do this to me! Come on! Don’t fall asleep on me!” I am a hair from her face, screaming hysterically. I put my hand under her neck and she takes another small breath, but only one.
“Don’t...please...just don’t.” I sob, resting my forehead against her own. She can’t die like this. She has to live. She has to keep fighting. Already she grows colder. I wrap the arm I have free around her while begging her in frantic mumblings to not give up. She can’t die like this.
I feel her body warming, probably from my own body heat. I hold her close, as if trying to force life back into her. My hand is still locked around her shoulder.
“You won’t die like this...Please don’t give up on me. Please don’t die on me...please just breathe again.”
I hear Dr. Cruebel run back in. He stops. Why is he stopping? He need to help me! She's not dead yet! Sarah takes a breath; a small one. Another one? Please? Yes, she takes another one. She’s breathing again. Somehow she’s breathing again. I feel as if her blood has cemented my hand to her shoulder. If she keeps breathing and if Dr. Cruebel would just treat her she might make it.
“Dr. Cruebel, what are you doing?” I call over the collapsed form of Lucy, still covered in blood, “Help me!”
He just stares at me. How can he stare at me? Does he want Sarah to die? I look down at her as she opens her eyes. Her skin is...normal again. How is she returning to normal? The blood...the pool of blood on the floor? Where is it? Where did it go? Sarah looks around as if to orient herself. Dr. Cruebel finally kneels next to us. His hand grips my own and peels it off. What I see chills me.
Sarah’s shoulder is completely healed.
“How did you do that?” Dr. Cruebel asks me, "You shouldn't...your shouldn't be able to." I mentally force myself to look at his face. He’s scared. I can see it. He’s scared of me.
No. It’s not true. This is a nightmare. It’s not real. I am at the door before he can even respond. The hydraulics pull against me slightly as I open the doors and slip through them. I’m lost in the hospital. This has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real. Which way did I come from? There were stairs somewhere. Where is everyone? Why is nobody else coming? How did I ever get here without access?
At the end of the corridor I stop, after exiting through unlocked doors, to take in my surroundings. My feet walk backwards until I hit the wall. I slide down it, crumbling chips of paint from the peeling walls. The dust from it gets into my eyes as chips sprinkle over my shoulders and hair. I pull my knees up to my chest and hug them tightly, closing my eyes. It’s not real. It’s a dream.
My hands go to my face. I feel the curves of my cheeks, the bridge of my nose, my mouth, my lips, my forehead, and my closed eyes. This is who I am. I am human. I am Ashlyn Field. My fingers run through my hair, pulling knots out. I have hair. I don’t have a mane and I don’t have a tail. I am Ashlyn Field. This is just a dream. I run my right hand down from my left shoulder to my fingertips. I don’t have hooves. I am human. I am Ashlyn Field. I have a life outside of here. I would leave the stairs but I’m shaking.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
I open my eyes to a dark staircase. A gasp of light appears on the stairs rising above me from below. Someone with a flashlight is climbing the stairs.
I don’t want them to find me.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
I crawl forward and focus my breathing. I went down just one staircase, right? My room is on the next floor? I need to climb the stairs before I’m caught. My feet are already bare so they’re quiet. I crouch then slowly crawl each step, thankful that they’re concrete and not wood. I don’t know why I feel like I have to run but I do.
“Is someone up there?” a male voice calls. I press myself against the cold cement and wait. He’s not walking anymore. Maybe he’s just guessing that someone might be here. Who is he anyway?
“Find something, Dave?” another male voice says, close to where I just was.
“Mike?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“I thought I heard something.”
“A ghost, maybe?” Mike teases.
“It's not funny. I swear I saw one the other day. She looked like a patient.”
“There are no such things as ghosts.”
“But what if she was that girl who died? Her and the others?”
“She isn’t real. You’re just seeing things. Let’s go.” Mike says and I hear the footsteps climb farther and farther down the staircase. I take the last few steps to the corridor where I think my room is. I push on the door.
The door creaks and swings a little then falls off its hinges.
“Dr. Cruebel?” I call into the pitch black after my heart starts beating again. I don’t hear either of the guards. They must have walked so far away they didn’t hear the door fall. Why is it so black in here? I take a step and feel something cover my foot. I glance down to see my almost white foot on a black background. I bend down and smell smoke. My fingers feel soot as I run them along the ground. What happened here?
“Dr. Cruebel!”
No Answer.
I scream his name. Why isn't he coming? Everything is black now. Something is touching my face. Something else wraps around me. I strike out. I can’t see anything.
My face is in a pillow. Bed sheets cover me. That’s what I’m feeling: I’m in bed. I’m moving from dream to consciousness. My eyes open in a grey room. My room. Dawn hasn’t come yet. It was all a dream. I sit up and uncover myself. Was there really a letter last night? Darting to the drawers, I collapse from shaking. I use my fingers to bring myself up then pull each drawer out to rummage through my clothes, ripping dark sweaters and pants out and throwing them behind me. A white letter would shine out against the dark fabrics even in this light.
No letter.
Last night was a dream. I rest my head against the open drawer in front of me.
“I felt so relieved to wake up.” I finish then look up at the clock, “Have I honestly been talking for fifteen minutes straight?” I look at Dr. Cruebel. Now that I’ve finally stopped babbling I have a chance to study him. He looks terrible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with his shirttails untucked when he’s wearing a sweater vest. The collar also lies as if he just threw clothes on to be decent. While his eyes look at me, they’re somewhere else entirely. He seems to register that I’ve stopped speaking.
“Oh...uh...yes. I’m sorry, what happened then?”
“That was it...are you feeling alright?” He shrugs helplessly, “What’s wrong?”
“Ah. No. I ask the questions.” he corrects before a rather loud yawn.
“Dr. Cruebel...are you ok?”
“Well, I’m,” he sighs, “Ashlyn, I am sorry. I’ve been preoccupied with so many things lately—“
“Like what?”
“While I appreciate your concern, it’s unprofessional of me to share my personal life with you. I believe you can understand.”
“Right... Well, I’m sorry for taking up your time. I’ve been babbling.”
“Sometimes it helps to just talk it out.” he says with a sigh, “Well, I’ll see you next time.” he says, groaning as he arches his back in a stretch. I want to stay there and try to convince him to talk. But, he’s right. It’s unprofessional and he could even lose his job if he got too personal with a patient.
“I’ll see you next time then.” I say, rising from my chair. His only response is a quick nod. As I exit, a stream of music trickles in before I close the door to leave him in silence. The notes from a piano tiptoe around the hall; coming from the room I heard them in a week ago. It’s very pretty. While something about it is sad I still feel...I feel like it’s home.
I lean against the corner of the wall where the hallway before me meets the hallway where I stand in a “T.” I’ll just wait until the music ends. The performance is still shaky, halted, but resolute to finish; to be completed.
I hope Dr. Cruebel is all right. Sarah seemed no different this morning when I went to breakfast and got my medication from her. It’s probably coincidence that he’s so different the day after I had nightmares about him. There could be any explanation. With all the patients he has to help everyday, its no wonder he hasn’t been more moody before now.
Footsteps approach me from my right I look down the hall to see Sarah walking towards me. She looks tired. She gets tired these days occasionally though.
“Afternoon, Ashlyn.” she says before a yawn cuts her off, “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry,” I push myself off of the wall, “I was listening to whomever is playing in there.”
“Why don’t you go outside?” she says and takes my arm.
“I kind of wanted to hear the end of this.”
“You can’t. She’s very shy. She doesn’t like it when people listen to her.” Sarah pulls on my arm.
“But she doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Ashlyn, come with me. You shouldn’t stay around in these hallways.”
“But...”
“You are being disobedient. Do what I say and come with me.” She grips my elbow even tighter and pulls me away towards the next corridor. Soon I can’t hear the notes.
She doesn’t let go of my arm until I’m back in my room.
“You don’t need to grip me so hard.” I say as I rip my arm from her claw.
“You are a patient here, not staff. When you disobey us you cause damage to the other patients. You need to stay here until you are ready to behave. Is. That. Clear?” Her eyes shoot shards of ice at me.
“It’s clear.”
“Good.” she says and leaves, closing the door behind her. I hear an extra click when she does. Did she lock me in my room? I test the doorknob. It doesn’t let me out. Why was she so adamant to get me away from the other room? I would have had plenty of time to leave as soon as the music stopped. I doubt the other patient would have bolted from the piano to the door before the last note faded. What right did she have to speak to me like that?
Oh. Right. I’m crazy.
I’m sick of this.
I feel under my pillow for a note. Nothing. So, nothing to do for who knows how long. Soon, whether caused by the yawns I’ve seen or the bed beneath me, my eyes fall closed and I fall asleep.
“Woah, Nutmeg.” I pant to the crackling air, patting his neck. I run my gloved fingers through a sandy mane. Flakes melt from my touch and string his hairs together. Clouds of breath spill from my lips and his nostrils. I seem to be enjoying this ride.
I also stand off to the side and watch myself. This has to be a memory. It’s so crisp and bright to me. This is real, familiar. A dog barks in the distance outside of the woods. Both of us turn to look. It’s not unusual for dogs to bark at nothing. I look back to me and see myself lift the reigns again.
“All right, let’s head home, huh?” I say to my horse before clicking my tongue. Nutmeg takes off at a controlled gallop, leaping through the snow with majesty. I’m breathless as I follow them. I know the exhilaration I’m feeling while riding.
I think I’ll stay in this dream. It’s nice here; peaceful, even with the crashing and panting from horse and rider. I follow after myself with ease, enjoying the feeling of running without the snap of December air in my throat. It’s easy to run for miles without feeling tired if you’re exploring something. The darkening woods provide the perfect adventure for me to run.
Yes, I know it’s December. It has to be December; I can almost taste Christmas in the atmosphere. Why can my dreams not be this all the time? My happy memories? These are memories where I wanted to be alive to enjoy every moment. The only pain I had was physical. I had no time to be worried or upset. Nutmeg and I stop short and I catch up to them. There are lights on in my house and a car is parked outside.
Not this. Please, I just want the memory to stay happy. I follow myself as I lead Nutmeg forward cautiously.
“Don’t go, you idiot! Don’t go!” I scream. My words snap in the air and shatter at my feet. They never reach me, to warn me. I shouldn’t have tried to be a hero. Nutmeg carefully crosses to the open garage where I dismount. I watch myself take the gun from its hiding place. I cross quickly to Nutmeg. I can’t see this happening again. I can almost narrate the entire event now that it’s so clear.
I’m walking to my bedroom upstairs, peeking around every corner. The damage here is minimal. They were looking for stuff in the open, obvious things. I hear the crashing from the kitchen and check my gun. It has three shots left. There is silence. I descend the stairs. I enter the kitchen.
The shot goes off, useless. One intruder has already grabbed the gun from me and discarded it. The other one is pressing on my neck and my back. My right hand slips on the diver in the sink into the bowl of berries I was thawing. It’s only my left arm that keeps my face centimeters from going into the filled section of the sink.
Splashing. I can remember the water catching in my throat and nose. I cough, trying to keep my face above water but I can't breathe properly. My head is forced under again. The edge of the counter presses into my collarbone. I can almost hear the moment my mind breaks. Panic. I remember it.
Nutmeg neighs violently and I back away. He can’t hurt me but he is terrifying. He rears on his back legs and stomps the ground. His braying rings in my ears. He rises to stomp again and I'm in the striking path. Before I can defend myself somehow, everything clouds over in black until I’m staring at the ceiling again.
At least I had some happy memories before the nightmare played out. I pull the fabric of my blanket over me and roll onto my side, sliding my arm under my pillow. Nothing there still.
I’m not scared by my dream. I just feel...cold. Also, I don’t feel like the nap did anything to make me more alert. I can’t recall a single night here where my non drug-induced dreams have not left me uneasy. Still, at least my dreams seem to be getting less terrifying. I close my eyes again and savor the sensation of my head sinking into the pillow as my hair cascades over my face, tickling it.
Why would they throw the gun away?
My eyes open again. They could have easily killed me. They just threw the gun away and tried to drown me, something that intruders don’t ordinarily do. Why drown me? Did they find it pleasurable?
I pull my pillow close with a shiver. I just want to sleep.
What if they didn’t want to kill me? What if they just wanted me unconscious? They could have taken the frying pan from my stove and struck me on the head. Why drown me? A gun could have also subdued me without killing me. They could have threatened to kill me. I would have listened. I think.
My doorknob grinds and clicks before turning, letting Sarah back in. She’s been crying and tries to hide it. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are still somewhat red.
“It’s dinner, come on.” she says before a sniff.
“Did something happen?”
“I’m ok. I shouldn’t talk about it.”
I let it go. Not because I’m hungry, but I because don’t have much of a choice. Besides, I still have my own questions to be bothered about.
Mel and Thalia join me. They don’t often have dinner when I do, but they join me when they can. We don’t talk beneath superficiality and gossip but I’m not offended. I’d rather not make friends again.
“Have either of you heard from Charlotte?” They shake their heads.
“Do you know if you’re coming back into group therapy with us?” Thalia asks.
“No idea. How’s group therapy?”
“Emptier. We got that one girl over there with the teddy bear now, but that’s it. Also, Dr. Morgan leads the group. Is Dr. Cruebel ok?” Thalia says as she reties her hair up in a ponytail.
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re the only one he meets with now, or so I’ve heard.“ Mel says, speaking for the first time. Her blue eyes turned to me with a hint of accusation.
“What Dr. Cruebel chooses to do is none of my business. He said he’s been dealing with family issues.”
“With Sarah?” Thalia asks.
“What?” I ask.
“Sarah’s his only family that I know of. She’s his daughter.”
“Makes sense.”
“Makes sense? You didn’t know?” Mel asks.
“I guess I never really cared to think about it. That might explain why she was crying today.”
“Make sure you’re eating.” a male orderly commented, walking by. I guess they do talk, just not often. We each take a stab at our salads and chew the sub-par lettuce.
“Well,” I continue, “I’m just saying, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fine," Mel grumbled.
“By the way, the first time I did group therapy with you all, what was that about Kerry? Do you think she’ll come back?”
“The first time?”
“I mean after my...accident.”
“I don’t think she’ll come back. I don’t know why. All we knew is that she scared us.” Thalia says. Mel does not break her gaze with me.
“But, what have you heard?” I ask her. Mel flexes her jaw. She knows something but wants to take her time for some reason.
“Well, it’s a rumor I’ve heard,” she begins, “I mean, I don’t exactly know what your accident was. All I know is that you and her were starting to spend a lot of time together and you spent less time with Charlotte. Dr. Cruebel seemed...worried about that.” She leans a little closer towards me across the table, “I suspect that Kerry had something to do with your accident. All I know is that Dr. Cruebel wanted to keep you two separated after that. I haven’t seen her since.” she says, sitting back.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so creepy all the time.” Thalia says, poking her salad and taking a halfhearted bite, “She never even tried to get better. She treated us like we weren’t even there. I didn’t really like her. I think she was dangerous.”
"Why would you say that?" I ask, almost laughing as I sit back. Thalia isn't one for logic.
"It was...whenever she would look at Dr. Cruebel or Sarah...she had this twitch in her face. The way she looked at them...it was somewhere between a laugh and murder."
"That ridiculous. If she was dangerous, she would be in a different section and not with group therapy."
"I saw her fight another patient once." Thalia says,rubbing her arm deliberately. She's defensive. Her voice shakes when she continues with difficulty, "It was like watching two wolves trying to kill each other. Dr. Cruebel sedated Kerry but the other one ran off, literally barking. I'm telling you, Kerry's dangerous. She might have killed the other patient if he han't stepped in. She wasn't scared to use her teeth."
"You made that up." Mels scoffs.
"I saw them outside. I didn't make it up and I didn't imagine it. Kerry stayed outside and the other woman ran in. Sarah went running after her."
I can't say anything after that. I'm sick to my stomach.
I’m awake. It makes sense that I’m awake. I feel awake. I just woke up from another nightmare, of course I'm awake. I'm back in my room and everything should be normal.
But, if I am awake, why are the bars gone?
The bars only disappear when I’m dreaming but I’m almost certain I am awake now. But, nothing stand between me and the window. I run my hands over the floor where they stand, in my memory. There is no indication that bars were ever there.
“Ashlyn?” Sarah asks, startling me. I stand up. She holds the door open, probably checking on me to make sure I’m going to breakfast.
“The bars are gone.”
“What?”
“The bars in front of my window are gone.”
“Ashlyn . . . there have never been bars on your window.”
“There have always been bars on my window. They would only disappear when I was dreaming. I’m dreaming now or the bars have never been there.”
“Ashlyn, the bars have never been there.”
“Except, I remember them—”
“You probably had a dream where there were bars in your room and you kept picturing them here—“
“You’re not listening! In my dreams the bars are gone! If they’re gone now—“
“Has it occurred to you that maybe the bars have never been there, and whenever you saw them there that was the dream?”
“If that’s true then Discord is also real and letters appear under my sheets and pillows saying I’m Princess Celestia!” I say with a helpless wave of my arms.
“Look,” she said, rubbing her temples with the tips of her fingers while scrunching her eyes closed, “The point is: the bars are unimportant. If you saw bars here it was your imagination. Now are you coming to breakfast?”
“But—“
“No. More. Arguing. The matter is settled.” Sarah snaps, “Now get dressed and come pick up your medication before you go to breakfast.” I don’t move. “Do I have to get another nurse in here?”
“What's with the attitude lately?”
“Just do as you're told. I am coming back in five minutes and you better be dressed by then.” she says before turning back to the door. She stops. I can see her body stiffen. She turns her face enough to look at me.
She’s about to cry. Her face contorts as she fights what she wants to say. She shakes her head.
“What is it?” I ask, mystified.
“You have no idea what I lost because of you.”
The door clicks shut. I’m uneasy as I pull on my dark jeans and chocolate brown sweater. I’m not sure how long I am in dressing, but Sarah does not interrupt me before I’m ready. She’s also gone from the hallway when I leave my room.
What do I do now? Pretend she didn't say anything? What did I do? How can I get a straight answer from her if she can’t, or won’t, talk to me?
All through breakfast I force myself to eat, feeling my stomach protest. I don’t like eating when I’m pensive. Every time I stop to try and let the acid in my stomach settle, an orderly looks at me until I eat again. I can feel myself growing sick and stop to place my face in my hands.
Silence.
When I lift my face again I find the place empty. A breeze blows through a burned out shell. I’m sitting on a chair, which collapses under me. It's been weakened by fire. Charcoal coats my hand when I bring it up to my eyes as I rise from the burned out debris. I can still smell smoke. The sound like crumbling leaves follows my footsteps as I crawl over a collapsed section of roof. Maybe it isn’t smoke that I smell. It's cold now.
The breeze picks up momentarily and bits of orange and red glow against the black. So the fire is recent enough to still have embers but not so recent that I’ll be burned seriously if I’m careful. I watch where I step a little more closely. The door the leads to the stairs and down to my corridor is closed. From what I can see, that section of the building still stands.
How did I get here so suddenly? I just blinked and this happened.
“Sarah?” I pause, “Dr. Cruebel?”
Stillness answers.
I’m very much alone. Is this a nightmare? Where do I go? What do I do now? I’m shaking. How do I even leave? If the wood is still in embers, the metal doors are too hot for me to touch. Calm down, Celestia, and think about this . . .
Celestia . . . I have not called myself that in almost a year. It sounds so foreign in my mind. It brings me back to when I spent every night dreaming that I was drowning. Now I’m almost a year older, but am I really better? Am I more confident? Am I any safer? Have any of my questions been answered since I’ve been here? How could that name have popped up?
I climb over to where the floor is still clear. I call a general hello for anyone who might hear me. The scratch of my voice in the air warns me that I’m about to start coughing. After the first cough hits, a wave begins and forces me to sit on the blackened floor. For a full minute I'm caught in a hacking fit, feeling every bit of friction in my throat. Even after I stop, the tickle is still there, begging to be scratched through more coughing. I swallow it back enough. I need to get out of here . . . wherever here is. I can breathe easily when I'm gone.
I’m aware of the winds murmuring as I pull my sweater up enough to cover my nose and mouth. The wind strolls through the blackened shell of the cafeteria and I blink my dry eyes as I walk towards the door leading to the kitchen. The heavy, metal door fallen off the weakened hinges and there might be a staircase on that side of the building that I can use to escape. Where will I go from there?
The wind is talking. The murmuring is actual murmuring. The voices are soft, echoing, and close. I turn around, keeping my mouth and nose covered, and hear the hollowness of the cafeteria as the voices sweep down into it from the gray clouds and bare branches above me.
“She’ll make it.” I hear one say. I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman. The sound whispers too softly to distinguish.
“She’s strong. She’ll make it.” It’s a man’s voice. I can hear that now. Not Dr. Cruebel’s . . . but familiar. Something brushes my hair and I reach up to feel nothing. A very gentle touch presses on my forehead.
“I love you.” a female voice says. I let my hands fall to my sides.
I know her. I haven’t heard her speak in forever. She's been gone for forever. Her voice shelters me even though there is no way a voice could give me any protection. I open my wind-dried lips and my voice replies in a breath,
“Mom?”
Like a radio being turn on, the noise returns. I look around, disoriented. The cafeteria is restored. A female orderly approaches me.
“Are you alright? Did you finish your breakfast?” she asks, pleasantly. I blush.
“Yes, I think I did. I’m sorry, I thought I saw something . . . ”
“It’s fine, honey, I can walk you back to your room.” I look up and see I’m one of the last patients left in the room.
“Thank you. I . . . I think that would help.” I say. The woman, who is at least half a foot shorter than me, links her arm with mine and leads me out of the cafeteria.
“What happened?” Sarah asks as we pass her in the pharmacy window outside of the cafeteria.
“Hallucinations, I’m afraid. She kept walking around the cafeteria like there was something there. She called for her mom too. I’m just walking her back in case she has another episode. ” My cheeks burn hotter. I’m right next to her and she speaks as if I can’t hear her.
“I’ll get my dad. Stay with her until we get there. Tom?” she calls, turning her head, “I have to leave a minute or two early, can you manage?”
“Yeah.” a voice affirms out of sight.
“Now just take one step at a time, dear.” the orderly at my elbow says.
“Thank you, I am all right. I just want to make sure nothing happens before I get back to my room.”
“Sure. I’ll be right here. Let me know if you're dizzy.”
“I will.”
The rest of the trip to my room slithers lazily as the orderly keeps asking me to slow down so I don’t faint. I remind her I’m not about to faint and she pats my arm and assures me that I’m right.
I know I’m right. I don’t need her approval to know that.
The bars still haven’t returned by the time I get back. I sit on the bed and the orderly stands in front of me, smiling at me while her eyes scrutinize my face. I avoid eye contact and stare resolutely at the door.
"So what did you see?"
"Just . . . stuff."
"Do you miss your mother? Is that why you called for her?"
"I didn't call for her . . . I heard her."
"Don't worry, we'll sort this out and have you better in no time."
"They've been saying that to me for a year . . . "
"Oh. I didn't realize that." I can't block the idea once it comes into my mind. Maybe it will at least give me some peace.
"I just hope I don't start biting people again. I hate that."
"Biting? I thought patients who bit—"
"I can't help it . . . all the salad I get . . . I get so hungry, you know?" I say, ending my voice in a growl as I look at her appraisingly. She shifts back a step.
"Are you sure you're in the right hall?"
I can’t remember being so relieved to see Dr. Cruebel before. I think the orderly shares my feelings. Dr Cruebel enters with Sarah close behind him.
“Thank you, Nurse. You may go now.” he says to the orderly. She flitters away. “Ashlyn,” he sits on the bed next to me and seems worried by what he sees, “I didn’t get the whole story, what happened?”
“Um . . . I’m not sure. I was in the cafeteria and I got sick because I was trying to force myself to eat, so I put my head in my hands. When I did, the cafeteria disappeared.”
“What did you see? Your home?”
“Well, I saw the cafeteria . . . but it was burned down. There were still some embers but no one was there. It was all quiet. I went towards the kitchen and . . . “
“Don’t feel scared to tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know what happened.”
“I . . . I heard voices. I can’t name the male voice directly.”
“But there was another voice?”
“Yes . . . I don’t know how I recognized her.” my lips shiver, “It was my mom.”
“Oh . . . Ashlyn, I’m so sorry.” he say, his face genuinely reflecting his words, “Did you take your medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Sarah, please check her medication. It’s possible that the pills might have reacted to something she ate or took last night but it’s also likely that the medication was switched.”
“I’ll check. The bottle, please?” I take out of my pocket and hand it to her. She leaves, giving me an uncertain look as she does.
“Now, Ashlyn,” Dr Cruebel begins, placing his hand on my shoulder, “You know your mother is dead, right?”
“Yes. I don’t know what happened or why I heard her . . . Is it . . . “ I stop myself.
“You can tell me. I want to help you.”
“Is it . . . wrong for me to feel . . . comforted by a hallucination?”
“What do you mean by comforted?” he said after a slight pause.
“I felt safe. It was a different kind of safe. I mean, there is a rational safe you feel when you know you are protected. Then, there is the safe you feel when . . . talking with someone you trust,” I pause, searching for what to say next, “Then, there is the safe that you feel . . . when you’re scared and go to sleep in your parents’ room, like when your dad hugs you tighter after your sister drowns, like when your mom kisses your forehead when your almost asleep and says that she loves you . . . does that make sense?”
“Hm.” he says as he nods, “The question is though: what about hearing your mom’s voice in your head comforts you? Is it because you feel like she’s there?”
I thought for a while before shaking my head.
“I think it was just hearing her voice. It just comforted me somehow.”
“Hmm . . . I would caution you not to take this . . . experience as something to hold on to. Don’t let what you think you heard rule your life. It’s remarkably easy to create a memory, especially if you want that memory more than anything. I’ve told you all this before.”
I nod. Dr. Cruebel takes his hand from my shoulder and laces his fingers together in front of him.
“I think," I begin again, "I think what comforted me, is that I still have something I can remember from her . . . I can remember my mom saying ‘I love you’ to me.”
Sarah pushes the door open, holding a pill bottle that rattles. She stands adjacent to her father and looks directly at him. The corners of her grim mouth press into her face.
“Tom put the wrong medication in her bottle. It looks the same except the color is a little different. I’m sorry.” she says, handing him the bottle. He closes his fingers around the orange yellow plastic and she releases it.
“We’ll talk later.” he says. Sarah leaves. Her eyes are red with tears.
“Where is her mother?” I ask. A muscle in his temple twitches as his jaw clenches. He looks to the point across the room where the wall meets the floor and addresses it instead of me.
“I don’t discuss my personal life with patients. I’m sure you can figure out why.”
I’ve been crazy for two years. For over a year and a half I’ve been conscious in this mental hospital.
I’m still here.
I’m going to ask him again. I’m going to beg him. I have to leave. I can’t stay here much longer or I’ll break again. I’ll just show up to the meeting today, as is normal, and knock on the door. When I come in, I will convince him I’m sane and he’ll have to start the process to let me go.
Don’t get your hopes up. He would have said something if he was going to let you go soon.
I stop in the hallway leading to the room and blink my tears inside. No, he will let me go someday. He wants me to get better. I sniff as I stride past the room where the piano is silent. He will see that I am sane and I no longer need to be kept here. I’m a woman ready to be independent and ready to return to her previous life. I’m no longer a danger to anyone. Please, Dr. Cruebel, let me go.
The door to the piano room creaks.
I’m shaking. I don’t know why. I’m completely rational. I have no reason to be shaking. I’m going to obey the rules and not get curious. That will show them.
“Kerry! You’re not supposed to leave the room yet!” I hear Sarah call from the hallway behind me. I can’t move. Thalia is scared of Kerry. Was she scared of Kerry because she knows that she is dangerous?
Is Kerry the piano player?
My head turns slowly. I want to look at her. I want to at least figure out who she is.
“Ashlyn!” Dr. Cruebel stands in the open doorway of the counseling room. He waves at me to come towards him, “Don’t turn around. Just slowly walk towards me. Kerry, return to your—“
“My name isn’t Kerry.” the soft voice breathes behind me. I begin to walk towards Dr. Cruebel.
“Yes, you are and you need to return to your piano—“ Sarah begins.
“Her name isn’t Ashlyn.” I lift my eyes to look at Dr. Cruebel’s face. My shoulders tense.
“I am Ashlyn. You need to obey these people.” I hear something between a gasp and a sob.
“Don’t you know who I am?” the voice chokes.
“Kerry! You are to stop right now and—“
Dr. Cruebel steps forward and reaches out towards me. He draws back at the last moment.
A hand rests on my shoulder. Something in my chest jumps, I know not from what. I reach my hand back and touch the bones wrapped in skin that hold me. I’m touching a dead hand. It’s decaying skin stretched over prominent bones. Does she want to fight me? Or am I amusement to her? The stiffness of my muscles begins to strain my neck as she takes her hand away and wraps her arms across my shoulders from behind. Her chin digs into my collarbone and I smell stale sweat. Her short, greasy hair pokes my face as she hugs me. Her breath almost makes me vomit. She binds me close to her with her arms. Her body is warmer than mine and I can feel its feverish dampness through her clothes.
“Please let go of me.” My voice is shaking.
“But—“
“Dr. Cruebel, get her off of me!” But, he looks at me as if entranced, “Sarah? Are you going to help me?”
Kerry’s sharp nails pinch my arms as she forces me to face her. I want to say her name. Everything in me wants to say her name. Her name sits in my mouth at the tip of my tongue, pressing against my lips. I keep telling myself that her name is Kerry. Her eyes search mine, hungrily. Her angular face grows perplexed. She wants me to say her name. But, that’s not her name.
“Don’t you . . . know who I am? Can’t you recognize me?”
Her name crouches in the bend of my tongue. I want to shout it. I want to scream it. I want an explanation.
“Ashlyn?” Sarah asks.
The pitiable child in front of me turns rabid. Her arms constrict my ribcage.
“Her name isn’t Ashlyn! What have you done to her?”
I concentrate on every ligament and tendon in my arms and hands as I bring them up behind her back. My fingers wrap around her arms and I deliberately push her away from me. She goes limp. Her blue eyes plead with me.
“But,” she says, “You know who I am. I can see it. You know my name—“
I shake my head.
“Say it then! Say who I am!”
I shake my head. Dr. Cruebel stands behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. I feel his warmth radiate in the cold hallway. Those dark blue eyes have not left me. She tries to challenge me to say her name, but something in her has weakened. She can only shape her lips to form the words, but her breath is not in it. Sarah puts her right arm around the patient’s shoulders and slides her left hand around the woman’s elbow.
“Come with me.”
“Sarah, wait a moment.” Dr. Cruebel says. I feel his voice’s resonation. He bends down to my ear. “Go ahead and say it . . . ”
I turn my face slightly and accidentally brush his goatee with my cheek. He moves away. If I say that name, I’ll never leave. If I don’t say it . . . I’ll lose her.
No, I’ve lost my sister already.
I stare down the pleading look.
“My sister is dead. I’ve had enough of your games.”
Everything becomes disjointed. I can see Kerry and Sarah moving but never moving or changing location. All noise is gone. Tunnel vision seeps in quickly, desaturating everything. I’m blocked off from all sensation by black. I can’t say when, but I realize my forehead is sweaty. The humming of florescent lights floats above me. I’m elevated in bed with my knees raised.
“There’s some space between the daisies and the scrapbook.” a male voice speaks, almost startling me.
“Here, hold the bear,” a female voice says, “ It will look better on top of the box.”
Wow, I’m sore. I feel like I’ve been beaten. Something hangs from my nose and I feel tape covering my face above my mouth. I move my right hand slightly and plastic slides across my skin.
“She’s moving again.”
“Ashlyn?” the female voice asks, touching my right shoulder. I squint my eyes open. My forehead contracts as I stare at the young woman who smiles down at me, visibly relieved. Her dark eyes are shiny. A clean-shaven, older gentleman gazes down at my face. He looks like me.
“Dad?” I scratch out. The corner of his mouth turns up and he smiles a wrinkled smile. My hand feels weighted as I continue to move it towards my nose. My fingers come into contact with a tube and I pull on it slightly.
“No, no, no,” my dad says, taking my hand off the tube, “You might still need that. Phone your mother.” he directs the last part to my sister.
“What is it?”
“Your feeding tube. You’ve been fighting a fever for the past two weeks.”
“Weeks?” I ask, “I’ve only been here for weeks?”
“Yeah, you’ve been sick a little longer than that. Your fever has come down considerably. You were 100 on the dot when they last checked.”
“Yeah, she’s awake . . . no, I haven’t . . . don’t know. Dad,” she turns to him, “ Mom wants to talk to her.”
“Put it on speakerphone.” he says. She clicks the rectangle in her hand.
“Can you hear me?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I hear my mother say.
“Here she is.” She holds the glowing rectangle close to my face, “It’s Mom.”
“Mom?” I ask.
“Ashlyn! Oh! You’re awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh! How are you feeling? Have they taken your temperature yet?”
“Uh . . . “ I look to my dad, “Help?”
“Not since I told you last.”
“How are you feeling, Ashlyn?”
“Like I’ve been hit?”
“What happened? You’re breaking up . . .”
“I’m what?”
“Speak louder! I’m having trouble hearing you.”
“I’m not feeling well.”
“Is it getting worse? Call the doctor!”
My dad rolls his eyes and takes the phone.
“She’ll be all right, honey. Just get here.”
“You’re breaking up. What was that?”
“Just—“ the object beeps, “It dropped.”
“I think she was driving here already.” My dad sighs and hands it back to her.
“I’ll try again in the hall.” he says and takes his own rectangular object out before leaving.
“Kiera?” I ask . . . my sister.
“What’s with the look?”
“You’re not dead.”
“What?”
“You’re . . . I’m so confused.”
“I’m confused. What are you talking about?”
“I thought you were dead. You . . . drowned.”
She takes my hand.
“I’m here. Ok? I’m not leaving you anytime soon. You got that?”
My throat chokes as I nod. My eyes turn to my bedside table. It’s buried under get well gifts.
“Where did those come from?”
“Relatives. Who else? So,” she sits back in her chair, playing with her rectangle, “You dreamed I was drowning?” I look at her. Dr. Cruebel seems almost a distant suggestion.
“I dreamed I was in a mental institution for two years.”
“That’s weird.”
“In my mind I spent two years believing you were dead and that I couldn’t remember anything. It was terrifying.” she looks away to her rectangle.
“I see. What else do you remember?”
“Every day. I had no idea who I was. It was too real to be a dream.”
“But it was a dream.”
“Yes, I know. It just . . . everything seemed so real. I kept trying to figure out what was the truth. I started out thinking I was some pony princess who got turned into a human—“
“What?” she says to stifle a laugh.
“Then this doctor convinced me I was Ashlyn Marlowe and I created the fake world of Equestria to recover from the fact you drowned. I kept dreaming and waking up and there were these patients everywhere . . . I was terrified.” I repeat, looking at her. She rubs my shoulder with her hand.
“It’s ok. I’m here. I’m not leaving.” I nod.
“I’ll be ok.”
“I mean . . . I assumed you would have some dreams. I didn’t realize they would be nightmares. Well, they’re over now.” she says definitively.
My mother bursts into the room and assaults me with concern. After I can finally sort out her constant stream of questions, we establish that I am going to get better. I won’t be here much longer. Once my temperature stays under 100 for 24 hours, I’m free to go. Though I’m happy to see my mother and the rest of my family, I can’t help but think this is all wrong. They chat above me more than with me. There is only so much that can be said. I grip Kiera’s hand tightly until she has to leave.
I’m alone in the hospital again. All I have to keep me company is the pile of presents next to my bed. I’ve seen that bear before. It was the same bear the one girl kept holding and crying into. There is a scrapbook next to a vase of potted daisies. Charlotte loved daisies. How I remember that, I have no idea. They’ve bloomed already into small yellow and orange suns in the middle of a brown and orange eclipse. A square box rests between the bear and the scrapbook. On top of the box I can see a small crystal vase holding a single lavender rose.
There is a sprig of yellow bird’s foot with it.
I want to pick the vase up and hurl it against the wall. Yellow bird’s foot? The teddy bear? Charlotte’s favorite flower? That photo album and the box probably also contained things to leave me guessing. Is this another layer? Yet another nightmare to leave me confused? Yes, I know my mother’s voice. I can recognize my father’s voice in certain words or phrases. I know . . . I know my sister’s voice.
This tube in my nose irritates me in so many ways. I want to rip it out and yank all the needles out of my skin. I wake up to this? A fever where what I eat has to be pumped into me? Or have I fallen asleep and I’m in a nightmare? Memories of the mental hospital dilute the longer I am here. Specific details stand out but I can’t recall everything like I could when I was there.
Why am I sad? This is reality. I’m finally released from the mental ward. I have a life waiting for me that’s even better than the one I hoped to return to when I was dreaming. My sister is still alive. My sister . . .
No! I wasn’t dreaming. Dr. Cruebel is real and Sarah will come to wake me up soon.
I feel tears fall down my cheek. I know better than that. I can’t have them back. Dreams don’t continue where you leave off. Even if I fall asleep again, I can’t have them back. I want them back. I would take all of Sarah’s snark, all the maddening speculation, and all the other patients just to have it all back. I want to be crazy again. I want to know it was real. I want it to be real and to be back in the hospital, trying to get better.
What if I say her name? Her name has stayed pressing at my lips for me to release it. The name I wanted to say the moment I heard her speak:
“Luna.”
No magic spell. The fluorescent lights hum above me. The tubes stay plugged into my arms and shoved down my face. The teddy bear and flowers sit at my bedside. I'm too late. I passed my test and I'm free from the mental hospital. I'm safe now.
I'm Ashlyn Marlowe, whether I want to be or not.
"Ashlyn?" I turn to glare at Kiera.
"Leave me alone."
"How are you feeling today?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Ever since you got back . . . you've been different. Is something wrong?"
"Always."
"Tell me. I'm your sister." My glare intensifies. My sister? My sister. No, I can't have my sister back.
"Leave me alone."
"Ashlyn. I'm sick of this. These past few weeks you've been . . . . Why are you carving up your headboard?"
"Just felt like it."
"Why? I mean . . . it's pretty, but what is it?"
Home. It's home. It's the cascading waterfall. It's the stained glass. It's the path to the statue garden. My heart stirs. It's home. It’s the castle I spent so many centuries in. Even if I can't see it in person, I can see it with my own eyes.
"It's where I should be."
"You're not making any sense. You belong here."
"Then, why can't I dream anymore?" I ask, turning my face to her, "Why can't I even have nightmares anymore?"
"Not everyone remembers their dreams."
"No, you don't understand: I. Have. Dreams. I dream of nothing. It's empty. This whole world is empty."
"Ashlyn, you're not making any sense."
"Send me to the insane asylum then!" I shout, crouching on all fours, "Get me out of here and put me where the mad ones go."
"We love you. We're not giving up on you that easily." I turn away from her and throw my knife onto the floor. "Please, let me talk with you." Talk with her? How can I talk with her? She doesn’t understand. I have to go . . . to go back. I have to make this right. I have to at least see if it’s in ashes.
"I have a lot to think about." I spit at her. Her sigh irritates me.
“Let me know if you need anything, ok?”
I ignore her.
She hugs me. It’s empty. I can feel it’s hollowness. She can only imitate a hug. She’s not real. Her arms let go and I feel her get off the bed. Her shoes pad across the wood floor as she exits my room. The stairs creak with each of her steps and the bells on my door ring to signal her departure.
Does she know? Is she aware that she doesn’t exist? Or am I wrong? Will she exist after the sound of her car disappears? How real is this fake world? Real? What am I saying? Even the patients seem more real than her and the rest of my family. I've tried to dream here but I can’t. Every night I sleep to experience a blank wall. Am I selfish? Constantly wanting a different world than the one I am in?
I pick up the teddy bear in my hands and feel its fur. The illusion here is enough that if I want to believe it’s real I can. Why would I want to give up Equestria for this? I look back to the carving. It's hideous. It's not even close to what Equestria would look like. It's not my home.
Yes, I know who I am, or at least, who I once was, or, more accurately; who everypony wanted me to be. If I had just realized sooner I might be back home . . . in my real home. I drop my head and close my eyes. If I had realized sooner? I’ve really known who I was the whole time. I just wanted to give up. I looked in my sister’s face and told her she was crazy. I rejected Luna . . . again. I gave countless notes away without reading them. Twilight would have every right to hate me. I hug the bear to my chest. It doesn't help anything. Does she know what I've done? Is Twilight hurt right now? Is she crying or angry? Does she still miss me? What will happen to Luna? WHat will happen to Luna now that I've failed her again?
It's my fault. I asked for this, fought for this, and gave up everything I had to be here. I set the bear down. The album scratches the top of the always empty gift box as I lift it to my lap. The pages are crowded with the perfect, happy family I wished for. I get tired after two pages but I keep turning them to remind myself of what I've done. This is what I rejected Luna for. This is what I gave up everything to get. I can’t shake the depression swelling in me. I’ve lost my real family. Everything I've worked for is gone. Why didn't I think of that when I refused to say Luna's name? All I had to do was say it. Instead, I got my wish: a chance to be boring again, unhampered by responsibility, no longer worshipped, just nothing.
“You win, Discord.” I say to the emptiness as I close the album. I wipe the tear as it threatens to spill over my eyelid. “Is this what you wanted?” I challenge the ceiling beams, “Are you happy now? Is this the only way you could have used your magic for good on me? Do I just live here and die after getting my wish?”
I have no right to blame him, but shouting feels great,
"Is this your revenge? For what?" I stand up, panting, letting the album fall, "Why did you do this to me? What good am I if I stay here?" my voice echoes and rings at an empty pitch I can't stand, "Answer me!"
I take a deep breath that cracks, "Bring me back home! I have to say I'm sorry! I'll step down and give everything to Luna. I have to tell her I'm sorry! I have to . . ." my sob interrupts me, "Help me, Discord. I'm sorry." I fall back onto the bed to sit, "I'm sorry . . ." and voice my emotions over and over. The tears grow more fervent with each repetition. Soon my tears are the only thing that can speak for me. I curl up on the cover of my bed and sob. My music comes back to taunt me.
The years now before us, fearful and unknown. I never imagined I'd face them on my own.
There was always a way back before. I open my eyes. There has to be a way out. Am I going to lie here and feel sorry for what I've done? Or am I going to die, saying I fought? Am I going to die, trying to return? In a beat of my rushing heart, I'm kneeling in front of the box from the hospital. The cover clatters against the floor. I know there has to be something about this box. Every time I’ve opened it in the past it’s been empty. It can’t be empty. I’ve tried shaking it and testing it for a hidden compartment. This time, I don’t need to. A black leather journal sits inside. Pages stick out and the leather is scuffed. I snatch it out and open the front cover.
My name is Screwball.
I frown. What is this? Why would this be left here? Then again, it would never be left here if it wasn't important. It has to be my key out. I wipe my eyes furiously and continue.
For now, my dad calls me Sarah Cruebel. He said it’s for a game we’re about to play. I haven’t seen him for awhile but that’s changed . . .
I sit, hunched over the book. The words glide under my eyes, sometimes through a wall of tears, sometimes above burning cheeks. Screwball. So, she really was his daughter? At every mention of my name I feel self-conscious, embarrassed. I had no idea . . .
But, I still don’t understand the burning building. Why was the hospital burned down? Was that another world or the same world but another time? When the sun sets to my right, I turn the light on to continue reading, ignoring the protesting in my hunched back. While so many questions are answered in the diary, I still don’t understand. Maybe by the end it will all be answered. What is this section she’s scribbled out? Why did I keep dreaming that I was drowning? Why would Lucy attack her when she seemed to be recovering? What really happened that night?
There is a knock on my door. I glance outside but it is too dark to see if a car is parked in the driveway. I don't remember seeing lights pull up to the house. I close the journal and lay in on the bed where it sinks into the quilt. I glance towards the knife, sticking out of the floor, and hesitate before I lift it. No matter what it might be, something is off about this.
The person knocks again. I enter the dark hallway and feel the carpet under my shoes. The blade is bare as I hold it in my right hand. I can hear my heartbeat. What is the worst that can happen? Can I be killed? What difference would it make? My heart jumps at each creak from the boards under my steps. I descend the stairs cautiously. The knock comes again as I reach for the door handle. I slide my fingers over the curved metal and place my thumb on the latch. The gears of the door grind and click, pulling the bolt out of the doorframe. I draw the door towards me and peek around the edge.
Sarah.
Shivering in a grey sweater that is too big for her, Sarah Cruebel stands at my doorstep. Screwball is on my doorstep. I throw away the knife and hold her tightly before I can think about what I am doing. I don’t care what I am doing. I know why she is here. She stiffens at first but since I have her arms locked against her body, she can’t do anything else but accept my hug.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you. Come on in . . ." She shakes her head, "Are you here to bring me back?” I ask her. She says nothing but as I let go of her she reaches into a messenger bag and pulls out a pink and brown camera. She won’t look at me.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It’s how we went back and forth. This will bring you back to Equestria.” she holds it out to me, “Take a picture of yourself.”
“Bring us you mean?” She looks away, “Or have you been banished?”
“No. I’m not banished.”
“Sarah . . . Screwball, I saw your diary.”
“I know.”
“I’m not finished with it. But, do you know—”
“It’s ok.” Her hands shudder as she plays with the dials on the camera, “There wasn’t much after the first few entries. I don’t know everything.”
“Screwball.” she looks up at me, “I am sorry for how I’ve hurt you and your family. I didn’t realize—“
“It’s not your fault. It’s no one pony’s fault, really. Besides, that wasn't the reason . . .” she stops herself.
“If I had known—“
“Would anything really have been different between us?” she says, her jaw shaking. After a moment I sigh and shake my head.
"I am so sorry." I say one last time.
"I," she closes her blue eyes and takes a deep breath, her hands steady, "I'm sorry too." I touch her arm and she pulls away.
“Shall we head back home then?” I suggest.
Her jaw trembles as she presses a button on the camera and a light begins to flash.
“Tell my dad, I love him.” She says, and thrusts the camera into my hands. Before I can say anything, the flash goes off and I leave that world behind.
