My Final Confession: Relapse

Cozy is half seen in the frame from her muzzle down to her belly. She scoots the camera until Pinkamena appears in the background on one of the worn couches. Silent as the grave, the mare sits and stares into the unknown space outside of the camera’s view. Cozy’s puffy red eye slithers into the frame as she frowns. She whispers softly to the camera, her voice as fragile as egg shells. “She won’t talk to me. She won’t look at me. I-I really messed up.”

Slumping down onto the table, Cozy appears defeated and clenches her eyes tightly. Tears fall like silver streams from thawing snow onto the table’s thirsty surface. The filly sighs, “I know I’m bad … I’m not like other ponies. I think there’s something wrong with me … in here.”

The wine on the filly has dried into streaks and splotches of burgundy-black as she buries a hoof into her curled mane. Her leg slumps lifelessly to the table and she turns her head until her cheek is flat against the table. “Miss Pinkamena came and got me from where I was petrified. She didn’t have to … I’d never seen her before in my life so I don’t know what made her help me. I’ve never had anyone do something like that for me.”

“The worst part of being turned to stone is that you still sort of know what’s going on. Time stops but it doesn’t … I don’t know how to say it. I saw ponies who came to see us ‘villains’ and tell their foals not to end up like that bad filly. I was there for a long time, not sure how long exactly, but sometimes I could recognize foals who had visited a long time ago, come back as adults to gawk with their own foals.”

“It felt like a millennium. It didn’t hurt being a statue but it made me think about the things I had done.” Cozy wipes her eyes with the back of a foreleg without lifting her head. Her voice cracks and whittles away from the strain of speaking. “I’d do them again. I hate those ponies. They said such nasty things about me but they don’t know who I am.” her small pink eyes roll to the camera, puffy from the tears. “They don’t know how hard I tried to be like them and how … how much it hurt to always fail. I’m not a normal pony … but it still hurts to be lonely. Why couldn’t they just accept me for who I was instead of what they wanted me to be?”

Cozy sighs deeply, but it’s broken with a quick succession of tiny sobs. Her wind comes out in a gust. “I thought … it doesn’t matter what I thought.”

“I ruin everything. My parents left me because of how I ruined their lives. I was really little then, but I remember them fighting all the time. I ruined them.” Tears continue to roll down her cheek and spread onto the table.

“I hated the orphanage and escaped to Ponyville where I ruined every friendship I tried to make. Then, after all of that, I ruined my own life trying to take over and show Twilight that I wasn’t a failure.”

Pinkamena’s ear pricks, the first motion made from her until now, and, unbeknownst to Cozy, begins edging towards her in slick, soft motions.

“I was always alone … until Pinkamena. She brought me to this candy house in the Everfree and talked to me every day until the stoning spell broke. For the first time somebody actually wanted to be with me; someone wanted to be my friend.” Cozy’s voice cracks and she lays her head to the table, covering it with her legs. “And, now ... I’ve ruined that too.”

Pinkamena has crept into the kitchen and stands behind the upset filly. Cozy sobs, and muffled squeaking sounds of regret leak to the camera. Pinkamena has a hoof to her lips and her eyes shiver with moisture. “Do we really need all this drama, Cozy?”

Cozy jerks up like a striking serpent, features a mess of tear-rivers and puffiness. The filly wipes at her eyes arduously. “I wasn’t cr-crying. Or being dramatic.”

Wrapping her in a hug, Pinkamena kisses her cheek gently and pulls Cozy close. Cozy continues to sob while Pinkamena closes her eyes and soothes her. “I know. It’s alright. We’re two of a kind, Cozy. I’ve been through a lot to be here with you. You’ll never be alone again, Sweetheart. Not this time … please, oh stars, please. Not this time.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was just mad and worried. You drink so much, Pinkamena, and you’re not yourself then.” Burying her face into the mare’s chest, Cozy fights to calm herself but her shoulders hunch rhythmically.

Pinkamena sinks down to Cozy’s level and smiles at her. “Well, I don’t have much of a choice about that now, huh? I’ll just have to tough it out.”

Cozy looks down, her cheeks reddening with shame.

“I love you, Cozy. Do you know how you can tell?”

The filly gingerly looks up with big, pink eyes. “How?”

Pinkamena reveals her sharp, pointed teeth, locking them together in a vile, Cheshire cat smile. Her eyes become wide, and her pupils, pin-points of hard, frozen madness. “Because even though I want to cut your bratty little throat, I’d rather have you here, with me, and alive.”

A shy grin is birthed on Cozy’s face and she bumps her forehead to Pinkamena’s. “I love you, too, Pinkie.”

The moment lingers until a sudden crunch and scream pierces the silence. Pinkamena jerks her head around and sighs with resignation. Cozy screws up her face in fear and emits a sharp gasp. The filly spins to look at Pinkamena, questions pouring from her eyes as she hangs onto the mare.

The howls light in Pinkamena’s ears, setting them a’twitch. She pats the filly’s back and releases her frustration in a sigh. “It seems I was right, again. It’s one of the traps, Cozy. Stop grabbing onto me like that. Let us see what we have caught.”

The graying mare walks out of the frame but Cozy remains still. A smirk plays on her cheeks as she watches Pinkamena move away. She dashes to the camera and a muted chuckling can be heard. The filly whispers to herself, just loud enough for the microphone to pick up.

“That went better than expected.”