Relief for Pain

by DarkDime

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad
Length: 2209

Pinkie Pie hates herself. At least what she has become. Will one of her friends be able to help her out of her depression? How will Pinkie feel about it? Will she even survive through the torture she inflicts upon herself?

How will Pinkie Pie feel if one of her friends found out her secret? If her friend can help her out of the rut she's fallen into, maybe she'll come clean with everyone else and be done with all of it. Things can't be so easy though. She's been working ever since she left the rock farm to hide this side of herself from others.

Tell me if I should continue, because my expectations tell me that this won't make a dent in anything. (Gore is toned down a bit)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-14 00:27:24 UTC

A Big Secret

"I wish I could go back to the rock farm..." I pushed the blade deeper into my flesh. It helped me...cope...with my emotions. The blade was my only true friend. It could provide to me what others could not. Satisfaction. Seeing my friends smile would only make me feel empty. I may have been the one to put the smiles onto their faces, but I would wear a fake one to mask my feelings. Behind the mask is the real me. I am Pinkamena Diane Pie. The care-free pony I turn into around my friends, makes me sick. It's not me. I want to strangle it. To put some worry into it's mind. As of now, it is beyond the point of no return. If I were to come out and express my true self in front of my friends, what would they think of me? I felt that my soul was left back at the rock farm. Where I always seemed so depressed. It was nothing compared to this.

    I needed to put the knife down. If I kept going, I would need medical attention. Just one more... No. Resisting the urge to press down once more, I angrily threw the knife across my room. It firmly embedded itself into the far wall. It was not my friend. It was relief. It seemed as though my blood represented all of my hatred and sorrow. It seeped out of my body due to the blade. It also represented life. If I kept using the knife, I would be found dead in this room in a bloody heap. That could possibly be the worst way to go. To have everything I've worked for just disintegrate in front of my friend's eyes. If only I could be honest around them. They just don't understand.

    Why resist?

    "I don't want to end up in a hospital." I was talking to myself. It made me mad.

    It's just a short walk away. You and I both know that you want more.

    "No. I don't. Just leave me alone." I was arguing with a voice inside my head.

    Go.

    "I guess I could survive just...one." It was winning. I knew this full well, but something inside me thought otherwise. I was powerless inside my own body. My hooves pushed against the floor so I could regain footing. I wasn't controlling them though. Once I was stabilized, my legs started to move. They pulled me forward to where the knife had planted itself in the wall. There was a voice somewhere in my mind telling me to stop... No it was screaming and pleading for me to stop. I didn't comply. It wasn't me pulling the knife from the wall. It wasn't me taking it closer and closer to my skin. It wasn't me who sliced up my arm, adding three permanent scars. It wasn't... No... It was me who lost consciousness. It was me who blacked out on the floor. It was me... I denied myself control. I was a mindless drone to stress. If the stress wasn't relieved soon, Celestia had better hope I'll get through this myself.

    Better?

    "Go to hell." And with that, my vision was enveloped with blackness. It wasn't blackness though. My friends were there. They just stood there though. Staring. Then I realized that they were staring at me! All ten of their eyes were glued to my recent scars. They were all on the back of my left hoof. That wasn't the only action they were doing. Slowly, in their semicircle around me, they moved towards me. Everything else was obscured by darkness. Then, my heart rocketed up to my throat, as I realized they were all holding knives. Various kitchen knives. I started to back up to match their rhythm. My eyes were wide with horror, and my hair was flattened out. I went on autopilot, otherwise my legs would have locked up and buckled under me. Then, I backed into a wall. It wasn't just a wall though. It was my bedroom wall, and it still had the knife stuck in it. My initial reaction was to reach out and yank it from the wall using my good and sliced up hooves. I held it out threateningly, with no intentions to hurt any of them.

    Kill. The voice in the back of my head chimed. It was too much for me to take. I screamed out to nothingness.

    "AAHHHHHHHH!" I woke up from the blackout, and took in my surroundings. I was still in my room, but something made me go white with fear. Applejack stood there in the doorway with her mouth wide open. She must have seen the blood, my front hoof, and the knife, and connected the dots. It was too late. She didn't say anything, and alike, I couldn't think of anything to say. We just stood frozen. Staring into each others eyes, as if trying to pry information from our facial expressions. Applejack broke the tension.

    "Pinkie! We need to get you to a hospital!" The urgency in her voice made the statement much more pressing.

    "NO!" Applejack flinched at my sudden out burst. I may have been a bit harsh.

    "We have to do something! You could die if you stay here!"

    "I don't want them to know!" I could feel a lump form in my throat.

    "Know what!?" The tears building up inside me stated to pour out like rain. I felt like a filly. I knew what I was doing was wrong, even from the start. I didn't know I would be addicted though. It just felt so good...

    "I-I'm not Pinkie Pie. I'm Pinkamena."

    "We might need to get you a psychiatrist afterwards."

    "NO! Pinkie is who you know. Pinkamena is who I really am. Don't tell them about this. Please."

    "Can we at least cover up the wound?"

    "F-fine." Applejack ran back out of the room to find any sort of cloth to stem the bleeding. I was glad, because I was starting to get a bit dizzy from losing so much. I laid back down on the bloodied floor. I felt so helpless. Truth being, if Applejack hadn't found me here, I would have died. My vision started to go dark. She returned just in time. I couldn't tell for sure, but I assumed it had only been about half a minute. Another half and I would have passed out again. Without saying a word, Applejack took my arm and furiously attempted to stem the profuse blood flow. It wasn't all that successful, but it slowed it down at least. I knew that, sooner or later, I would need proper treatment, and that would only come from Twilight (with the knowledge of all of her books) or from a certified nurse. The latter seemed like the best alternative. If Twilight found out about my cutting, I would die right then right there.

    "Applejack?" She was putting final touches on the handiwork.

    "Yes?" She looked up.

    "Can you...pinkie promise...not to tell anypony else? Not until we need to?"

    "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye." It hurt to hear those words, but at least now, I was assured. She was the element of honesty after all.

Therapy?

     Now that my wound was covered, me and Applejack needed to discuss what I had been doing. It was her idea, and I was none too ecstatic about it. She felt that it was a good place to start though. We were both sitting down in chairs to talk it over.

    "How long have you been doing this?" She asked. My mind was elsewhere, so the words that came out of her mouth only sounded like a distant echo in my ears. They were understandable though.

    "For...as long as...I can...remember." My train of thought kept taking wrong turns so it was hard for me to get my words out. My eyes darted from object to object, only avoiding the worried eyes of my friend. They finally settled on the knife, now lying on the floor. I quickly tore my gaze away from the reminder.

    "Did you hear me?" I was forced back into the harsh reality after drifting off into a world of clouds. I focused back on her. "Since when was that? While you were at the rock farm? When you moved into Ponyville? When?" Her voice was calm and soothing. She probably meant it to be that way so she could coax me out of my shell. It would take more than just a tone of voice to have me fully engaged in this conversation though. It felt more like an interrogation. When I found the words to express myself, I spoke them with quickly diminishing confidence.

    "I...I think it was when...I met...all of you. M-my friends." A single tear managed to find it's way out onto my already wet cheek. I couldn't quite place the reason why I started to break down. The window of opportunity was slowly closing. Soon enough, I wouldn't be able to get a simple phrase out of my mouth without being interrupted my a stream of tears. "I'm sorry. P-please...keep going." My hair had been flattened since Applejack had seen me on the floor. Now though, I was using it as a mean of isolation. I knew that I had no choice but to tell her my defect, but I would rather still be adding little red lines to my nearly-infected arm. She was a vent for my frustration, but at the same time, she was the enemy.

    "Why did you start hurting yourself like this?"

    "It was...I had...When I m-made you smile...s-something insid-de me snapped. I just...it made me feel like I was...missing a p-part of me." My distant eyes furrowed as I tried fruitlessly to express my motives. "I just..." I stopped without finishing my sentence, because I assumed that I would be better off not mentioning that aspect of me. The little catch that when one of them would smile, the voice inside my head told me to hurt myself. I didn't want to, but it overpowered me. If I snitched on that voice, I would sound like an escaped mental asylum nut.

    "Does anypony else know about this?" She probably knew the answer to that, but she asked anyways.

    "No..." Concern flooded into her eyes. She wanted desperately to help me, but with each question she asked it seemed further and further away to complete rehabilitation. It must have dawned on her that this is a secret that will likely not be known to anypony else, unless I was the one to take that step.

    "Can we go see somepony that can help you?" Her face was clad in a pleading expression. Her voice didn't match up with her visual emotions. That would only be partly true though, because both of us felt confused, sad, alarmed, and...angry.

    "...no." She should have known the answer clear enough to have not asked that question.

    "Look, what if we make sure they don't tell anypony. We can ensure that your secret is safe." At this point, I could figure by her tone of voice that she was not going to give up this argument. It would only waste time to tell her no again.

    "When?" Her face lit up as she interpreted my answer as a flat out yes.

    "As soon as possible!" I was a bit taken aback, but what was I to expect. This was a subject that is never taken lightly. "We still need to get you treatment for that wound though. If we don't by next week, it'll be infected. Maybe even sooner."

    "I...I guess." What was the point of denying it? She was all smiles when she figured we had finally gotten back on track. Now that my verdict was out on the table, we (more she) could get me scheduled for some sort of therapy. Wasn't the first thing I wanted today, but it's not optional at this point. I had given in to the voice, and now I would pay the price. I was weak. I did need help but I was too stubborn to go willingly.

    "I need to schedule something right away! Just stay here." And with that, she flew out of the room. It left me in a daze. What would I do while she was gone? The blade on the floor looked inviting, but I had learned my lesson. I wasn't about to have Twilight barge into the room uninvited and see me like Applejack had. It was worrying, but at the same time, she was like a vent. I could expel all of my hatred and frustration just by talking to somepony. She was no exception.

    I trotted back down the stairs, even though I knew she would probably be steamed just for one of the steps I had taken. Because my room was in Sugarcube Corner, I would occasionally sneak down to grab a cupcake on display something. My selection was not far from a cupcake. I snatched a muffin off of a random shelf and carried it upstairs. It would not be missed.