Why

It was the first time, she was found convulsing on her bed with an empty pill case by her side. The mailmare had been flying by when she saw through the window. She was immediately hospitalized. She was rushed in and connected to every possible machine. Needles went into her body and and electricity was sent to her heart with pads. She was surrounded by doctors, they took turns compressing her lungs and breathing into her mouth. They struggled for ten hours straight to stabilize her, at last the monitor began to give a steady beep.

Her friends and family sat in the waiting room all asking the same question, "Why?" None had spoken to her, none had seen her yet. She was still unconscious, surrounded by monitors and tubes. Some of her friends were angry and spiteful at her actions. Some silently wept of confusion and sadness. And some just sat there staring into space, trying to understand what had occurred. They all wanted to know, they were all confused. A certain pegasus friend of hers had to be stopped by security from barging into the room. Her father held his weeping wife and their confused younger daughter.

A blond stallion sat next to his cousin. He had come for a visit, but when one of her friends came telling her of the news, he ran with her to the hospital without a question. He didn’t really even know his cousin's hospitalized friend. They’d only met the once so long ago. He sat quietly comforting his cousin. The day passed and they were told to go home. The friends didn’t want to, they had not heard of their friend, they knew not what was going on. But the doctor forced them, insisting they would be contacted.

The stallion told his cousin he would catch up, ‘gotta go to the colt’s room.’ This was a lie, he wanted to see the mare. He wanted to make sure the mare in that bed was the same he had met before. Slowly he walked through the hospital. Nurses passed by carrying trays or attending patients. Under his breath he read the nameplates of the doors until he found the right one. Gently, with the utter least of his capacities that his strong muscles would muster he opened the door.

As he entered he could hear the beeping of machines, the stillness of everything and smell of sterileness hit him. He craned his neck and looked inside. There she lay, a needle taped to her wrist, a breathing mask on her face. Her chest rose and fell softly under the blankets. Cautiously he entered, making sure his hoofs didn’t make too much noise. He came to her bed and looked at her. He removed his old stetson from his head and frowned. Surely this could not be the same mare? She looked the same, but could it be?

Same styled mane, though a little messy, same long thick lashes. He watched her, mesmerized. Even with the one time they’d met he couldn't conclude why this mare would do such a thing.

Suddenly her eyes fluttered open, darting from side to side taking in their surroundings. She quickly sat up, not noticing the shocked stallion in front of him. Angrily, with tears in her eyes she reached for a glass on her bedside table. With her magic she smashed it against a wall. Magically she picked up a shard and sent it to her wrist. This happened too fast in front of the stallion, he was too slow to act, time did not freeze but sped forward. Her wrist began to bleed profusely, crimson liquid trickling down into her once white fur.

He didn't remember if he had called them, but a doctor rushed in, nurses quickly behind him. They tried to reach her, but she fought them and tried to hit them away. The stallion thoughtlessly gripped the mare. He held her in his strong, adrenaline fueled grip. She tried to fight him off, but he didn’t release. The doctors got to her and treated her wound, as she struggled to break free from his grip. The mare roared angrily and tears poured from her eyes as she tried to stab the stallion with her horn.

He only held tighter, he ignored the pain from the horn jabbing into his chest and throat. He grabbed her into an embrace, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. As he held her, the doctor cleaned and stitched the cut. She no longer fought and only gave racking sobs. He was about to release her, but as soon as the doctor bandaged her wounds she wrapped her forelegs around his waist. She cried into his blood smeared vest, sobbing endlessly. She said nothing coherent, only tears and spit came from her.

The mare held to him tightly, her forehooves had moved to gripping his vest. She cried under his embrace, not letting go. Slowly the stallion moved himself up to the bed and sat next to her, never hinting at release. The doctor offered to sedate her, but he refused to allow her. If this mare was dealing with immense emotional pain, she had to let it out; and if crying into his chest was the way to do it, who was he to not let her feel better?

Soon the medical ponies left the pair. He held her for what felt like a timeless expanse. He didn’t care that his fur was smeared in blood, tears and mascara. He didn’t care that nurses peered through the door to spy. He didn’t care that she squeezed in his body like a scared foal. He didn’t care that the dinner tray had come and gone. He didn’t care that he now lay on the hospital bed, nestling the still sobbing mare under the blankets. His family had been contacted of his stay and he would do so until this crying mare could finally let go.

She cried late into the night, her head rested on one of his forelegs, his other foreleg held her firmly. Her head stayed tucked in the crook of his neck. Her horn would shift along his firm jawline as she cried. The stallion just lay there without a word, comforting the mare. Eventually she tired out and fell asleep with a hiccup. This was good, no? She had finally stopped crying, he could now sleep, right? But now how could he?

The day had started so well for him. He had found a bit during his walk, and gotten a handsome tip at the market where he had been selling apples. So how could have the day turned so bad? These things should have occurred on bad days, when it was dark and stormy. But alas, he lay here holding the strange mare, on what could have been an excellent day. He cradled her tighter and fell asleep by her side.

The sunshine awoke him, casting its sunny glory into his emerald eyes. He blinked a few times until he was fully aware. He shifted slightly to look at the mare beside him. She still rested in the same position, tucked underneath him holding on to him. She breathed softly, their heart beating in sync.

Her makeup was smeared around her eyes and tear stained streaks had dried down her cheeks. Her mane was a mess. It’s luminescent healthy glow was gone, now it just fell softly across her face, shaping it. The smell of her perfume was faint. Dots of blood speckled her. She was still beautiful though.

Even with all the horrors that had come from her, he couldn’t deny it. Yes, physically, away from the blood and stains she was beautiful; but there was something more. He couldn’t point it out, but it was there. A different kind of loveliness came from her. A kind of elegance that had driven the curious stallion to check if the suicidal mare was the same from last time. As she softly slept, a sweet grace radiated from her form. A lady-like meekness was there, something that in his very core made him want to hold her and never her let her go; protect her, care for her, love her.