Monday, January 28th, 1003 A.B.

23 days have passed since I first became aware of the Itch’s presence within my mind, and throughout them, though they may have been ridden with anxiety and tension, I was still always able to rise above the enigmatic grip of my pathology and maintain, if not moderate, at least passable control over my faculties. Every time that I succumbed to the Itch’s fiery wrath I have been able to retrieve myself from its Tartarus-borne depths. That is, every time, but today.

Before I begin to recollect the events that have transpired this day, I would like to apologize for my shaky hoofwriting. I am once again barred from using my magic by doctoral orders, and am also unable to hold my hoof unerringly, the reason for which soon shall be revealed.

I would also like to give a quick report on the current state of Rainbow Dash’s and mine’s relationship. Despite numerous attempts of my own at making contact, the pegasus seems intent on avoiding my presence at almost any cost, eschewing my company even when lured by a mug filled with chilled cider from my own personal stash. I am beginning to worry that I may have irreparably damaged our friendship, seeing how determined she is to evade confrontation. Our other friends have noticed our interactions, or rather, our lack of them, and have begun to worry. This concern is the backdrop to today’s occurrences, and part of the reason why I find myself in such distress.

*****

It was around 10 in the morning when my regular schedule was interrupted by an unsuspected visitor. Similar to my last journal entry, it was one of the other Element Bearers that entered the main door to my abode and workplace, though this time it was neither done in the flurry of excitement that accompanies Rainbow Dash wherever she goes, nor the polychromatic mare in particular. My back was turned to the entryway when I heard the bell announce the opening of the door, and when I turned around and began to greet my visitor, I found that they were none other than my friend Rarity Belle. The pearl-furred mare greeted me with her usual grace and flourish, and began to make customary small talk with me as we sat down at the reading table in the center of the room. Eventually, she broached the reason for her visit, and inquired if I would like to accompany her for lunch at the Light-as-a-Feather Cafe, a popular spot for mares looking out for their figure, in downtown Ponyville.

My first impulse was to decline her offer, fueled by my suspicion that my friend was hinting at the slight plumpness of my form (despite the fact that for most of written and pre-history, society has viewed individuals of heavier set to be more beautiful and desirable, so in all honesty I should be the one asking her out to an ice-cream parlor), and also because I had already scheduled most of today for more testing. The refusal for her offer was on the tip of my tongue when I recalled the occurrences I had transcribed in the previous entry. Although I knew that Rarity had far more tact than Dash, I was still a little hesitant when I agreed to meet her there in a few hours, if only to avoid a recurrence of the events of last Thursday.

Nervously, I fretted the next two hours away. I tried to read a book on neurology that had recently arrived from Stalliongrad, but my mind was preoccupied by the numerous ways in which my outing could go horribly wrong. All too soon, the clock upon the wall neared 12:00, and, leaving the library in Spike’s care, I made my way to the cafe. I arrived at my destination exactly at 12, finding Rarity to have already arrived and seated herself at a table on the patio out front. After I sat down, a waitress came and left with our orders, leaving Rarity and I to start a rather awkward conversation while we waited for our meals.

It was Rarity who jovially initiated the conversation, and I who reluctantly responded to whatever small talk that flowed from her mouth. Though I tried to conceal my true, less than enthusiastic feelings about our little get-together, my disinterest must have shone through for Rarity soon abandoned the pretense of light conversation and revealed her true intention for summoning me into downtown Ponyville today.

“Twilight dear,” my friend began, exchanging the veneer of cheeriness for an accoutrement of concern, “though I do enjoy eating here on occasion, the true reason I asked you to join me here is because I’m concerned for you and our friend Rainbow Dash.”

I remained silent as she regarded me, judging my reaction. Though on the outside my appearance remained unchanged, I was already thinking up ways I could excuse myself from the conversation.

“I’ve noticed that Rainbow hasn’t been acting like herself recently,” Rarity continued, “though she tries to act like her usual boisterous self, she’s uncharacteristically quiet and looks rather dejected whenever she thinks nopony is looking. I’ve asked around town a little bit, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed this. Other ponies too have noted her change in attitude, and they also have said that Rainbow always seems to find a reason to be elsewhere whenever you’re around. I was a little dubious of this at first, until I saw it firsthoof myself yesterday, when you tried approaching her in the market, and she barely came short of breaking the sound barrier getting away from you. Twilight, I’m worried. What has gone on between you two?” Rarity finished, looking at me with worry etched on her face.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, I answered, “Rarity, I understand your concern, and I feel it too. Rainbow and I… we got into an argument a few days ago, and some… hurtful words were said. I’ve been trying to talk to Dash about it, but every time I get near to her, she runs away.” I pause as the waitress comes back with our food, only continuing after she has left, “I’m beginning to worry that I may have irreparably damaged our friendship. I don’t know what to do Rarity, I think she might hate me, or even fear me,” I finish, pushing my salad aside with my hoof, resting my chin on the table, not feeling like eating anymore.

“Oh Twilight, if only you knew how much Rainbow-” Placing her hoof on mine, the pearly mare began, before stopping herself. “Eh-hem,” she coughs, “what I mean to say is, Twilight, I truly doubt our friend Rainbow either hates you or fears you, if anything, I think she may feel the same way you do.” Hearing this, I raise my downcast eyes to look into her own blue pair, confused.

“She’s probably avoiding you because she’s afraid that you yourself hate her, Twilight.” Rarity continued, “if you’d like, I could talk with her myself and try to figure out what’s wrong.”

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ I thought, sitting there in silent shock, ‘could she really just be worried that I am the one that’s angry? It’s possible, but why? If it’s the Rainbow Dash I know, I’d expect her to be angry, not worried. All the better though, for if she had been able to see inside my head that day, I know she would be afraid.’

“Twilight? Are you okay?” Rarity asked, breaking my reverie.

“Y-yes, just…” I trailed off, not knowing how I felt, ‘relieved? Worried? Happy?’ “I’m just surprised, that’s all. But yes, Rarity, if you could do that for me, I would be appreciative.”

“I would be happy to, Twilight,” she smiled at me, “now, it would be a shame to let our food go to waste, non?”

Now with a wonderfully diminished weight off of my shoulders, I nodded in agreement to my friend, and dug into my meal with gusto. Unfortunately, I was only able to get a few bites in of the surprisingly delicious pineapple and daffodil salad before I began to feel a slight sensation tingling across my spine. Unsure of what it was because it was so faint, I paused in my meal and tried to focus on it. All of a sudden, the bare-whisper tingling along my spinal chord erupted into a deafening roar that quickly engulfed my entire back and soon spread to the rest of my body. I must have jumped almost a hoof length off of my seat out of shock, for Rarity herself jolted back in reaction to my sudden movement.

“Twilight, what wrong?” She asked, concerned.

I couldn’t give her a proper reply as I ground my teeth together, fighting against the strain that had engulfed my body. The Itch had returned with a vengeance unlike any other, leaving me barely able to control myself. With shaking hooves, I began to get up from the table, thoughts of escape galloping through my mind. At the cafe, right in the center of the downtown during working hours was not where I needed to be. There were too many ponies about, too many potential ‘victims.’ 'One of those victims could be Rarity herself,' flashed across my mind, driving me to make my way towards the crowds moving adjacent to the patio where we were sitting even faster.

“Twilight, are you okay?” The mare in question asked, coming up beside me, worry apparent on her face, “where are you going?”

Ignoring her, I made my way onto the street, desperate to lose her amongst other ponies. ‘If I have to imagine killing somepony, it won’t be one of my closest friends. I’ve already done that once, and I’m not going to do that again.’

Suddenly, I felt this strange, drawing sensation pierce through my torment and connect with my mind. It was this odd, almost physical, tugging sensation, as if latched onto my brain. It didn’t reduce the Itch’s ferocity by any means, it just provided a clear sensation in the hazy firestorm that engulfed my entire being, like a lighthouse to a ship lost in a stormy sea. I was drawn by that light in my mind, my hooves moving unbidden in its direction, through the crowd around me, through the torment assaulting me. The street which I walked upon opened up into the main marketplace, and I saw the origination of the newfound force that drew me to it in a daze. It was a stallion with a brown mane and a tan coat. His back was turned to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but I did see that he had three horseshoes as a cutie mark. Caramel, I think his name was. Either way, it didn’t matter who he was, all that mattered was that I had found my victim, my way to escape my pain, to douse the Itch’s flames. At least, that’s what I thought.

As I was approaching my prey from behind, I heard a shout from above, and felt my head and horn ignite in pain, right before the world around me went black.

*****

Agony. Agony and darkness was my world, was all I knew. I felt flames running along my hide, igniting my nerve endings, searing my brain. I couldn’t see where I was, the world itself had been hidden from me. Lost in a sea of invisible fire, I flailed about, trying to wave away the flames, trying to find something to grab onto, to orient myself to. In my pain and panicked searching, I saw a light gleam from high above me, piercing through the darkness, and began to move in its direction. The far off brightness began to grow more distinct, and as I drew nearer, I could start to see something inside of it. It began to look like the dark silhouette of a pony, and I soon realized that the light was in the shape of a doorway, in which the pony stood. The pony reached out a hoof to me, and I reached my own to it. Our hooves were about to touch, when I heard a monstrous roar resound from beneath me. I looked back to see a thin trail of violet and black flame shoot out from the infinite darkness below and streak towards me. It wrapped itself around my left hind leg like a fiery chain, and I felt myself violently flung back into the vile void below as a great, volcanic chasm opened in the darkness underneath. Taking one last look above me, I saw the doorway and the obscured figure rushing farther and farther away, forever out of my reach.

I felt myself enter the volcanic chasm, felt my fur igniting, felt my hide charring, felt my eyes boiling and popping inside their sockets, felt my tongue shriveling inside my mouth, and felt my body turning into ash. I last felt myself crumble and disperse, and once again, all was black, all was nothing.

*****

A quiet, but persistent beeping noise was the first thing I heard as I returned to consciousness, and colors, smells, and sensations soon followed after it, filling my perception with the world. The bright fluorescent light above me pierced my eyeballs, the strong odor of disinfectant dove into my nostrils, the soft touch of blankets hugged my body, all coming together to form a clear impression of the world around me in synchronized coordination. Though the smell of disinfectant was clue enough, I turned to my side to view the origination of the beeping noise, and spied a operating heart monitor machine, confirming my suspicions: I was in a hospital.

Placing my head back upon a pillow, I closed my eyes and rested for a moment before becoming aware of another sensation tickling inside my perception: all across my spine ran a faint, but familiar itching sensation. My eyes snapped open and my breathing hitched as the full implications of where I was and what I was feeling hit me.

'I’m in a hospital, and I can feel the Itch! The Itch! In a hospital they run tests and when they run tests they get results and results might reveal the Itch! Which I can currently feel!'

My thoughts galloped to the quickening beep of the heart monitor, running through my mind again and again, in an endless circuit of horror and fear. 'I have to get out. I can’t allow them to test me. They’ll find the Itch. They’ll think I’m crazy. They’ll think I’m a monster. I’ll be put in a straightjacket. I’ll be locked up. What will the Princesses think? What will my friends think? What will my family think? They’ll think I’m a monster. They’ll think I’m crazy. I can’t allow them to test me. I have to get out.'

Rolling out of bed, I tried to get on my hooves, only to end up crashing to the white linoleum floor. Ignoring the now-unbroken drone of the heart monitor, I attempted to stand upon shaking hooves, but was only able to collapse down upon myself again. As I began to drag myself to the door, it slammed open, revealing a doctor flanked by two nurses. Spotting me, they pulled me up and placed me back into the bed. I tried resisting, but I was too weakened to do anything to fight against them. I saw them conversing amongst each other for a second, though I couldn’t make out what they were saying - I was too disoriented - and out of the corner of my vision I saw one of the nurses bring out a filled syringe. The next thing I knew, the world began to grow hazy, and once again, darkness overtook me.

*****

When I next awoke, I was still within the sanitized confines that I had woken up to previously. I was once again under the stark-white covers, once again attached to the beeping heart monitor, once again struck by the blinding fluorescent light, but all these and other observations and perceptions were faint and unimportant, swept aside by the presence of a far greater magnitude and direness: the Itch still remained, and even more so worrying, the prickling annoyance along my spine had grown into serrated claws scouring and grating across my entire form. I was aware that the beeping by my side had risen, and realizing that it might bring unwanted attention to myself, I performed some breathing exercises to bring it back down to an acceptable level.

The clock on the wall read 6:47, and I was left with my own confused and afraid thoughts until 7:10, when a nurse entered the door to my room. Smiling and giving me greeting, she did a few simple procedural checkups, and informed me that a doctor would soon see me to answer any questions. At 7:15 a soft-pink mare in typical doctor paraphernalia entered the room, introduced herself as ‘Dr. Cheery,’ and began to perform her own check up on me. I managed to glean from the doctor that I had suffered severe blunt-force trauma to the head and horn earlier today, when a pegasi moving company carrying construction supplies and tools had dropped a toolbox onto me. The doctor mentioned that the company’s manager had expressed their deepest apologies and had left a business card with which to contact them by before continuing on with her check up.

*****

It was already dark by the time I stepped out of the hospital’s doors, and with a bottle full of pain medication, a horn in a cast with orders not to use it, and a head wrapped in bandages, I made my way home through the darkened streets of Ponyville.

*****

The time is now 11:24 at night. After arriving home, I came to find that Spike is staying over at Rarity’s tonight, as he was rather distressed by today’s occurrences. I’ll have to go to see them first thing in the morning. Poor Spike, recent events have taxed him almost as much as me. He knows something is wrong, he’s been at my side for far too long to not be able to tell when something is troubling me, and it’s troubling him that I won’t tell him what it is. How I wish I could tell him, how I wish I could tell everyone, but I can’t. I know that they’d be disgusted if they knew what I fantasized of, how much I enjoy it.

~~ihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitiloveitihateitihateitihateitiloveitihateitihateitiloveitihateitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveitiloveit~~

~~I LOVE~~

I HATE IT

I hate it because it feels good. I hate it because of how it makes me feel good. I hate it because I like it. I hate it because of what that implies about my personal character. But most of all, I hate it because it’s necessary. The pleasure is necessary because it purges the Itch. It douses the vile, sensorial flames that engulf my being because of reasons I can’t understand! I don’t know why the Itch has grown and festered inside my mind and I don’t know why imagining innocent ponies being brutally murdered relieves it. All I know is that for the past 23 days the only reason why I haven’t stepped off the precipice of madness is because of the pleasure that I derive from those imaginings somehow ‘banishes’ the Itch from my body. But now it won’t even do that!

For even as I write this now, I can feel infernal fangs gnawing at my spine, chewing and tearing at my raw flesh. I want it to end. I want satisfaction, but none will come to me. It must have something to do with the blow to the head I suffered earlier today. Right before it happened, I was walking towards Caramel. I knew I was going to watch him die. I knew I was going to kill him and end my suffering! But I couldn’t! And now, though I don’t feel that bizarre pulling sensation any more, I still feel the Itch’s blasted aggravation! What wrong have I done to deserve this?! What wrong?!

When I first began the day, I had set out to complete some more tests, now I doubt I’ll even manage to get some sleep!

I need to take more pills, my horn’s throbbing.

Signing off,

Twilight Sparkle

Author's Note

Woo! Chapter no. 8 done, Chapter no. 9 here I come!
Thank you all for sticking around this long, for even though it's only been 23 days for everybody's favorite pathologically perplexed purple palfrey for which neither perfunctory nor palladian pedagogy can present proper panpharmacon for her peculiar parepithymia (I have a book on my shelf devoted solely for such odd alliterations), it sure has been a lot longer for you all. Which is why I would like to thank you all for reading, liking, favoriting, commenting, disliking, glancing and sneering at this odd little thing of mine. I hope you all enjoy what's to come.
Au revoir,
The Fruity Cousin

P.S. I'd be grateful if I could get some clarification from some of you. For the hospital scene, would a nurse check on a patient immediately after they've woken up, or would she just address them when making her rounds? Thankfully I haven't woken up in hospitals enough times to know for sure, so I'd appreciate any help on that. Thanks!