My Final Confession: Relapse

An inky darkness fills the monitor. Derelict upon the screen, a single beam of moonlight rolls strangely across a landscape of unknown shape. Colors are unknown dreams in the monochromatic low light. The drawing of breath is the only recognizable sound, filling the camera. A quick, sharp breathing followed by a longer, partially labored rotation. A cry of old, worn springs gagged with cloth as shrill as any nightbird tears the silence.

“Cozy, put the camera away. It’s very late.” Pinkamena’s voice trails off. It is weary and old like items in an antique shop. “Why are you still up? It’s difficult to sleep when you keep flopping. My back's not as young as it once was.”

“Sorry …” The filly’s voice is small. The view rolls to the side, looking up into the bar of curving light. The light is wool-textured and illuminates a blanket.

“You didn’t eat anything for dinner, Cozy. Are you hungry?” There’s genuine worry in the words spoken clemently.

Cozy releases a stunted grunt before replying, “I-I couldn’t eat. Not after that. I mean, I knew what was going to happen but … it was different actually seeing it.”

The forms move and a long leg extends from the right of the screen to the left, a cracked hoof lays before the camera. “You get used to it.”

“I guess …” Cozy murmurs fitfully. “I never killed anyone when I … did what I did. I’m not sure I could ever get used to it.” A pom-pom of dark curls appears as Cozy rolls over.

“I don’t want you to have to get used to it. I’d rather you not know the guilt of taking a life, Cozy.” The hoof moves into Cozy’s mane and strokes the curls back repeatedly. “But if you kill others, you get used to it. They stop being real. They are just things. Screaming things, bleeding things, but things, nonetheless.”

“I didn’t want to kill anyone. I just wanted others to like me. Friendship was power and I wanted to be the most powerful: to be the Empress of Friendship.”

“How did you plan on becoming an empress without killing someone? Celestia wouldn’t just roll over and let you take what was hers. And if you did, somehow, there’s always someone who wants to take that power from you.” Pinkamena explains gently. “You have to defend what you have, even if what you have means something only to you.”

“How do you do that? How do you defend what is yours?”

“The best way to deal with those who want what you have is to kill them. If you let them live, they could come back.” The hoof goes still. “Look at what happened to you. Turned to stone for … well, a long time, but here you are free of the curse and, no doubt, plotting again. Do you still want to be the Empress?”

Cozy responds despondently, “If the possibility opened up, yes. More for revenge now than anything.” The filly becomes matter of fact, taciturn. “I want to make them pay for what they did to me. It was … it was very hard, Pinkie.”

“I know, honey. I know it was difficult. After seeing what you saw today, would you kill to get what you want?”

There is a silence and the blade of light curves and bends as something moves in the darkness.

“I don’t know. I wanted their affection. I wanted to be loved like no other and to use that love as my power. Even though I hate them, I don’t think I would want to kill them.”

“That’s good. Taking another’s life leaves its mark on you. Even if you don’t know it.” Pinkamena sighs, her voice is sharp like a knife. "They leave scars that can't be undone."

Silence grows between the two and it seems time stops altogether. Finally, Cozy ends the drought. “There’s only one pony I think I would like to kill.”

“And who is that?”

“Twilight Sparkle. Nobody else ever understood me but they weren’t mean about it. They were all stupid, of course, but not mean.” Cozy recollects, a twinge of pain rattles in her tiny voice. “I think Twilight knew m-my problems and exploited them. She made me think I could be a … a normal pony if I tried hard enough and, every time I failed, she would do everything she could to make me feel small and useless.”

“Sounds like her.”

“I hate her for that, Pinkamena. I want to punish the others but I want to kill Twilight for making me do the things I did. She ruined my life and took advantage of the situation when I did. I’d like to see her cut open and ripped apart while she begs for mercy.” The innocence of the filly melts away as her anger seeps and bleeds into the words.

Pinkamena chuckles to herself and the bar of light moves again. “I’ve been killing ponies for a long, long time. More time than even you, Cozy, who has felt time stop, could ever appreciate. I’m … regretful of a lot of the things I’ve done now. There was a time that I found it exhilarating and I lived to make others die horribly. I used to find such a thrill in the act of murder. It’s not so, now. I didn’t want to kill that stallion today.” A pained sigh escapes the mare and she moans. “I wish I had a bottle of wine.”

“Why … Why did you if you didn’t want to?” The question is curious and receptive, probing the mare’s reasoning.

“Had he survived, he would have brought others upon us and ended this little bit of life we have. Cozy, you are my only and dearest friend. I’d like to give you some kind of life. Even if it’s just trapped here in exile with me. We have each other and that means more to me than any of the lives I’ve taken. I will...err... would do it all over again to be here … to make it work this time.”

Silence descends upon them again and everything is still for a long time.

“Do you think there are more of them? The inquisitors?” the filly asks.

“Yes. There are more.”

“Will they find us?”

Another long pause filled with a deep sigh and heavy, nervous breathing.

“They will … the inquisitors are very good at their jobs. I’ve dealt with them in the past . I've nearly been killed several times. I've thought I would die from my injuries but I'm still here. Still breathing. Still trying to fix things." Pinkamena murmurs to herself for a moment, repeating something unintelligible.

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. I said, I’ve never dealt with more than one at a time so if a group ever shows up I want you to run, Cozy. Run into the forest and take everything I’ve taught with you. If more than one ever show up, I won’t be able to stop them. If I were young again I may have a chance but those days are long gone for me. However you might have time to escape. I don’t think they know you are here with me so they won’t search for you. But, if they find you they will take you back to Twilight who will, undoubtedly, turn you back to stone.”

“What will they do to you? Will they turn you to stone with me? If … you were with me, I might not mind it so much.”

“Secret execution would be the best plan of action for me. Disavow of any knowledge of my existence. But, Twilight has other plans for me. Worse ones. I’d never see this you again.”

Cozy makes a soft, displeased sound. “I want you to be with me, Pinkamena. I-I don’t want to be alone again. I lived alone for a long, long time. Promise me you won’t leave me …”

Pinkamena’s breath catches and is followed by what sounds like a soft, hidden sob. “I won’t leave you by choice, Cozy. I’d rather you live than be a statue permanently. I can’t promise I won’t leave you alone, my dear, but I promise I won’t leave you by choice. Not again. I Pinkie promise.”

“Not again? What do you mean?”

“Nothing … just stupid old me. I’ll make you something if you are hungry, Cozy.”

“No. I’ll be okay.”

There’s the sound of rustling and the light beam dances. The stillness of the grave befalls the pair except for the rhythmic thrum of shallow breathing. Cozy interrupts the night once more, “Pinkamena, are we ... monsters?”

“What?” her voice is tense like a spring about to snap under the pressure.

“The inquisitor … he called us monsters. Are we?”

An age passes as Pinkamena deliberates upon the question. She begins to answer several times but pauses to gather her words. Her reply is simple and honest. “Yes, Sweetheart. At least in this world5.”

“Is … I-is that why my parents abandoned me? Is that why I’m so bad?”

Pinkamena scoffs, answering with annoyance but not at the filly. “Your parents, whoever they were, are the bad ones. Not you… not for that.” The mare grumbles to herself but calms quickly. “You need guidance and are a creation of circumstance. You're a tragic heroine mislabeled by our society."

"I've done bad things, Pinkamena. Just like you."

"No... not like me. Don't say that. You're a victim of this foul world. I'm... I am a monster. Many times over."

“What made you want to kill ponies? We fight sometimes, but we’re friends. Why aren’t you friends with others?” Cozy’s questions are soft and sympathetic, inviting Pinkamena to answer.

A deep, troubled groan creeps from the mare. She is uncertain for a moment but gives in to the question. “Something happened to me a long, long time ago, Cozy. I used to have lots and lots of friends. Everyone loved me and I loved everyone."

"what happened?"

"I was helping Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and all of my friends stop this big threat to Equestria.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you were friends with all of them. They were the ones who helped Celestia beat me.”

“Had things been different, I may have been with them to stop you. You and I would have been enemies.” The hoof rubs playfully in the mess of mane on Cozy’s head again. “We did everything together and were very close. Anyway, while helping stop this potential invasion I got hurt. Here …”

The grainy darkness moves and Pinkamena’s head slides into the beam of light. She guides a tiny leg into her mane and rubs the hoof against her head.

“Oh!” the filly exclaims but then continues with confusion, “I… I don’t feel anything.”

“It’s gone now but my skull was cracked. I’ve heard about head trauma changing a pony and I know it can happen. After that injury, I was different. Games, pranks, and parties weren’t what made me laugh; it was pain. I enjoyed the suffering of others. I wanted to hurt my friends. I lived for the party of others’ screams and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would laugh so hard and long that I thought I may die from laughter. Seems like lifetimes ago now, but I eventually managed to get it under control ... for the most part.”

“You … don’t want to do that anymore?”

“Not really.” Pinkamena is quiet and her voice wavers. “Now I only kill when I have to.”

“What do you mean you have to?”

Her reply is curt and snappy. “I just do! Let’s drop it.”

“Is that why you drank so much?”

Pinkamena is exasperated and she becomes sarcastic. “Yes, you’ve won the detective award, Cozy. Can we please stop talking about it? Someone destroyed all of my wine and I really need a drink right now.”

The filly’s coos are like soft cotton, “I’m sorry, Pinkamena. Couldn’t you do anything about the injury? See a doctor or someone?”

“I did. I …” Pinkamena calms and searches for the right words. “I was a very weird pony. Nobody really knew what to make of me before the incident and they still didn’t afterward. They said I was ‘wired differently’ than others.”

“Not even the smartest ponies knew how to help?”

“I went to Twilight and she acted like she didn’t have time for me. I … started killing ponies before she took me seriously. Some time later she gave me a choice. I think I made the wrong one because it took away the only thing that was important to me during those years of terror. I’m still paying for it. I wonder if the choice Twilight gave me was my punishment in disguise?”

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about. It sounds like your friend, Twilight, abandoned you and then hurt you when she’s the one to blame.” The filly heavily exaggerates the name of the princess.

“She’s very smart. I’m certain she knew what she was doing. I’ve hated her for a long time for the suffering I’ve endured. If there is one pony out there that I would enjoy killing, it’s her.” A sinister giggle eschews from the mare, a sharp tone of malicious mirth unheard up until this point.

Cozy replies with excitement. “Maybe we should. Her inquisitors are going to find us, right?”

“Yes, at some point they will find us and take one, or both, of us to see Twilight. I’ve seen it in my nightmares.”

“Is that how you knew what the inquisitor was here for even though he didn’t want to talk? Do you see the future in your dreams, Pinkamena?”

Giving a light laugh, Pinkamena replies, “Nobody can really see the future, Cozy. But … it’s almost like I’ve done this before. I know things I shouldn’t. Like that Twilight would be impossible to get to.”

“I bet we could if we put our heads together.”

“Maybe, but we should appreciate what we have before picking a fight with a princess alicorn. She’s smart and incredibly powerful now. I just want to spend what time I have left with you, Cozy. I’d like to see you grow up and start a new life somewhere nobody knows you. You have a chance. If we play our cards right, you might be able to be happy someday.”

“I’m happy with you, Pinkie. Happier than I’ve been in my whole life. Even if you throw up in my lemon bars.”

There’s a rustling of blanket, the squeak of springs, and a flash of pink in the light. Pinkamena’s eye is illuminated as she squeezes tightly into a throng of blue curls, sobbing softly.

Cozy’s voice is soothing and sweet as cream cheese icing. “I won’t abandon you, Pinkamena. I’ll always be your friend.”

The battery icon flashes and Cozy’s mop of mane slides away, revealing the soft pink of her coat. A vile little grin spreads across her cheeks just before the power dies.