Suricide

by Supersaw_Hoover

Rating: teen
Tags: Coco Pommel, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Dark
Length: 3277

Coco Pommel simply could not stand it any longer.

Coco Pommel simply could not stand it any longer.

This is a stream-of-consciousness look into a possible way events transpired just before the end of "Rarity Takes Manehattan." It is also a look into the mind of someone who perhaps cannot think terribly rationally all the time.

Published 2014-01-10 11:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-10 11:00:01 UTC

Coco

Coco, you're going to sew that for me, mmkay. Coco, that's just how the business goes, mmkay. Coco, I wanted a totally different coffee than the exact one I asked you for twenty minutes ago, mmkay. Coco, you'll never amount to anything, good thing you have me around, mmkay. Coco, you're a worthless pile of shit, mmkay.

I've lost the ability to figure out which of these she actually said to me and which I may have just imagined, but quite frankly, every single time she utters a sentence with "Coco" to start and "mmkay" to finish, I feel as though the "Coco" is a jab with a very sharp knife, the meat of the sentence is a few twists of the handle, and the "mmkay" is a painful slice right down. Over and over, every day. I barely listen to what she says anymore. Lately, I've been wanting to return the favor. Stick a knife in her throat, twist it around, pull it down. No more of that voice that plagues my nightmares, both while I'm asleep and awake.

But I never did it. No, because I also believed up until fairly recently that everypony in this industry was like this, and since this industry was my world, and still is, I suppose, I'm fairly certain I believed the whole world was like this. I was just doomed to live this life. Simple as that. I had to make the best of it. Be obedient. Be Coco Pommel, Suri Polomare's assistant who does absolutely fucking everything for Suri for low pay at insane hours. That's me. She takes all the credit, and I only have the empty satisfaction of a sweatshop laborer whose only joy in life is the ability to perform their job extremely quickly. I can build a pyramid in a day, but unlike the ancient Saddle Arabians, I don't get the satisfaction of building the tomb of my oppressor. I make dresses. Dresses she wants. Dresses she dictates. I had my own ideas once. Crushed under piles of terrible fabric choices I had to make work. And I did it. Suri Polomare did it. Always pulled through. Always.

Maybe, then, it's more apparent how I could rationalize wanting to kill a pony. It's unheard of in most of Equestria, really. Equicide. Usually due to what is called insanity in the courts. I won't say I'm perfectly sane, I'll say that now. I mean, I'm talking to myself, and have been for months, maybe a few years now. Suri plucked me right out of fashion school. I was a star pupil then. I made so many beautiful things. Suri wanted it for herself. She had the right, she was already a rising star. I was nothing. After a short while, I lost all my friends. My family even disappeared from my life. It was only Suri left. Suri gave me all the reasons to keep going, as messed up as that sounds now. She gave my life purpose, and I devoted myself to that purpose. I even idolized her once. I guess there's some of that, still. If anything, she's amazing at getting ponies to do what she wants. I've seen her in action, of course, I know all her tricks. She has the fashion world eating out of her hoof. Maybe I should be proud that I'm along for the ride. Suri tells me so. Suri tells me, "Coco, you're such a filthy excuse for a pony, mmkay."

There's the knife again, ripping my world apart at the seams. No stitching on my own part could ever mend my own life. I can only cut. Cut down my own involvement. Let Suri tighten the reigns. I am such a miserable pile of pony. I am so lucky to be where I am. I am not even sure where I am. Did Suri give me a break? Did she tell me to do something? There are clothes all around me and I'm just sitting on this thinly carpeted floor, feeling the bare wood underneath, probably rotting, against my legs, creeping with shivers.

No...it's coming back in dreamlike waves--moments ago, Suri tricked Rarity and her friends into leaving so that she could win first prize by default. Because she didn't win. Rarity won. Rarity.

Rarity.

A name that isn't Suri, or Coco, a name that I heard uttered by Suri as she screamed when she didn't win--at me, in private, of course. She seemed so nice. She gave me a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling of relief that there is somepony around isn't a dirty web of lies.

But Suri, Suri had to destroy that feeling and replace it with disgust for Suri and myself. It made me feel worse than ever before. I was becoming numb, used to all the pain of daily life, but this opened a fresh wound. I had to make dresses to ruin this Rarity with her own homemade fabric. It was beautiful fabric. It really was. I know I thought about it at that point. But I couldn't, no, not then, it wasn't bad enough yet, I kept telling myself, and plus, the blood would ruin this amazing fabric. I couldn't do that. It needed to become amazing clothing. So I did it, I made beautiful clothing. I barely paid attention to Suri's eviscerating quips as I used mostly my own design sense to make something pretty. It kind of helped my confidence a bit, and Suri's no fool, she'll know these designs are good. She'd better. All I have left is this shallow pride that would be stolen on the show floor. Let me just savor it for a little. It's how I keep my head up.

Yet again I have lost my place in time. I cannot think straight anymore. Time is a blur to me. I don't even know my own age anymore. I got out of fashion school, what, a few years ago? It kind of feels like I'm a completely different mare to the one who was back there, impressing the professors with daring design choices and the ability to think on my hooves. I guess I do have the same skills, but that Coco is gone, and it's all Suri's fault.

Rarity, though...maybe Rarity is Coco Pommel from fashion school. Yes, maybe Rarity is who she grew up to be. If that's the case, I'm so proud of her. Yes, this makes sense. She pulled off the impossible, she made a fashion line in one night out of her hotel room's furnishings. It was amazing. I was watching wide-eyed. She deserved winning. Coco from fashion school always won. I don't make clothing. Suri makes clothing. I sew. I'm not Coco from fashion school. Rarity is. And Suri is succeeding at causing her to fail.

Suri is succeeding at causing Coco Pommel from fashion school to fail. She did this before. I am the result. I am sick of myself so much that I can't stand the thought of having another self as miserable as I am. Aren't you content with ruining one Coco, Suri? I guess not, because you're trying to ruin this one, too. I won't stand for that. I'm shaking uncontrollably right now and I know it. Suri is off talking up some snotty ponies and I am supposed to be organizing something to do with clothing, but I am just standing here shaking. I feel sick, absolutely sick. I feel as though I am about to vomit, but I wouldn't want to ruin all of the dresses.

There's no other alternative now. This is it. This is the day I finally do it. I believe this. Something just clicked in my head. Maybe it's these ideas about Rarity being Coco from fashion school. I don't care if it's true or not. I care that I finally can justify what I am about to do. But I need to do it well. I start to look around. What can I do? If I mess up, Suri will open her awful mouth and say awful things and I will be punished severely. Suri's never physically harmed me, but this could definitely start something. I need to make sure I don't fail. How I wish I could just make her tomb like the ancient Saddle Arabians.

Oh, wait just a minute! That's an excellent idea! I know her clothing better than she does. I put in a lot of little tricks for these dumb models to wear my clothing and not complain about it falling off. Haha, I completely forgot I went through a phase where I would add restraining apparatuses to my dresses as a challenge and also as a release of all of my frustration. Seeing those anorexic mares of vapid beauty nearly asphyxiated while strutting down the catwalk was cathartic for me. I wasn't the most uncomfortable pony then, was I?! Well, I can say now that I'm above doing that. I haven't done it in months...I think. No, I'm way over that. Now I'm just plotting to murder my boss. I have to stifle my giggling, she might hear me.

I have to work fast. She'll come back in a few minutes. Thankfully, some of her older lines are here. Oh, yes, this dress will do nicely! And Suri would want to wear it, I'm certain. She was really happy to say she designed this one, and I think it's rather hip to wear. I do believe so, yes, it's in right now. Yes, it still has those special features I remember. Yes, they still work. I just need to make a few more, and I think it'll be fine. Can't let her see exactly what I'm doing. She'll be so happy. I'll fix that, too, after I fix this seam. I'll fix her. I'll fix her really well.

And it's done. It looks very nice. I am rather proud. And I can continue to be proud. She will never get to claim this design for her own. It's mine. This is my dress. I made it. I designed it. It's my design. And Suri's going to see how good of a seamstress I really am. Now, for the first time in a long while, I will say something to her that is not merely a response.

Suri is coming up to me now. It is amazing how her face changes from friendly to horrifying in the span of mere seconds as she turns her attention from posh ponies of high society to her seemingly-obedient slave. She scowls at me. I feel confident. I can do this. Time to think on my hooves.

"Suri, wouldn't you like to wear this dress to accept this award? I--" I stagger backward, a sharp pain radiating from my cheek. She punched me with her forehoof. She actually punched me. Now all doubt was out of my mind, but...would she put on the dress? My mind is racing as I instinctively put my own hoof tenderly to my cheek and wait for Suri's response, fearing the worst.

"Coco, dear, you don't tell ME what I want to wear, mmkay?" She definitely said that. I'm already clearing up. I just need to finish the job, but now how can I do that? How? "Now, I want to wear this dress, and it was my idea all along, mmkay? Put it on me, now."

"Yes, right away, Suri." I had to feign my attitude. Inside I am on fire. This is happening. This is really finally happening. I start putting on the dress. Suri moves around too much. "Let me tighten the dress a little." I notice there are no ponies left in this room, now. Even better, I don't have to gag her straight away, but I should get to that quickly. First, I need to make sure she can't run away. I tighten the straps.

"What the HELL, Coco? I can't move in this dress anymore." Suri is agitated. She also can't move. I trot around to her face and smile.

"Good!"

I take the gag I prepared out of the old fringe of the dress and gag her quickly before she could scream. I'm very good at this. Maybe I should make a career out of making matching gags to go with constricting dresses. Hehe, that's a silly idea. "This dress is just for you," I say to the furious and markedly confused Suri, who cannot do much more than make muffled noises. I think I heard an "mmkay" in there. This needs to end. This really needs to end. I need to finish the job.

But with what? I didn't think this far ahead. I look around. Ah, right, those sewing scissors, they're extra sharp. I could stab her with them. It'd take a while, but it'd be worth it. I pick them up and bring them over to her. I let her see them. "They're sharp, right? Just like every single word that comes out of your damn mouth, you fucking bitch." I start to make some little cuts. Just enough to draw some blood. This is feeling really good. But something's missing. There is not enough symbolism here. I need to make this really count. Suri is silently screaming. That gag is working really well. I'm proud of myself.

Oh, now I have an idea. "I'll be right back," I say, like I'm about to go get her coffee. There's no blood on my coat. I double-check. She's hidden well enough. No one will go in there, there's too much socializing going on still. Still, I should be quick. I make my way to Prim Hemline. Conveniently, she's rather easy to find not engaged in conversation, since it seems most ponies are a bit intimidated by her. I'm not. I can't be intimidated anymore. I am past that. "Excuse me," I ask sweetly, "Suri wants me to bring Rarity's prize to her. I know where she went." It can't be that hard to find where Rarity went. I do my best to look confident.

"All right, but if I hear that it does not get to her, I will notify Suri personally." Hemline's gaze studies me. I give my best cute, innocent, expectant stare back, and nod. She gives me the prize. It has some heft. Even some sharp edges. Perfect. "Thank you, she'll be happy to find out she won!" I quip as I trot away, out of her sight. I don't wait for an answer. No more waiting. This is happening now.

I go back into the room with Suri. She's just as I left her. This is almost too easy. But hey, nobody expects murder in high society. This just doesn't happen. Well, I guess now it does. I'm surprised it doesn't happen more. Maybe it will, now. I hold up the trophy. "Hey, Suri," I quietly purr, "you've won. You've won your last prize." She now looks more scared than anything. Yes, feel what I have felt for so long. Feel that regret, if you're even capable of that emotion. Feel SOMETHING, damn it. I put the award in my mouth and speak softly through my teeth. "And now, I will present you with the award of lifetime achievement of being a completely..." I take a swing. "...vile..." Another swing, harder than the last one. "...self-absorbed..." Oh, now that one left a real mark. "...manipulative..." Aha, she's starting to bleed again. "...lying..." More, more. "...dream-killing..." She's starting to really look like she's in bad shape. "...good-for-nothing..." She seems to be in insurmountable pain, and is barely able to sob anymore. "...piece of horse shit." She stops moving. One more blow. "Mmkay?"

It's done. It's finally done. I'm free. Well, not yet. Almost. I need to get rid of this pile of garbage. Well, that should be easy enough. I wrap her in dresses. All the dresses she made me make. I've built her tomb, now. I'll just haul her into this rolling bin meant for discarded clothing, here. Yep, no problem, I got her in there. She's obviously not going to move around now, so as far as anypony is concerned, I'm carting out some old dresses that need to be pitched, for the sake of fashion or something. Regardless, this building has a garbage chute. I noticed it earlier.

While I'm wheeling her out, I feel different. I feel like...I feel like I am not the pony I might have been for the past few years, or however long it's been. She's dead now, killed with her oppressor. I suppose in that case this could also have been a willing suicide, in a way. A rebirth, though, not an end. I'm Coco again. I can be Coco Pommel again. Is Rarity Coco Pommel, then, too? Sure, why not. All that matters is that I'm myself again. No more Suri's Assistant Coco. She is dead to me. Just like this pile of clothes I'm dumping nonchalantly in the garbage chute. Now she's gone forever. This feeling is amazing.

I dust myself off and go to the washroom to clean off the trophy that got a little bloody from all the excitement of a few minutes ago. A bit of water, good as new, washes right off. Dry it a little, polish it with my fur. Good as new.

I'm good as new as well. And that feels wonderful.

Now, I believe I have some really nice thread, and it just feels RIGHT to give it to Rarity along with this trophy. Suri got it somewhere strange and she was very protective of it, taking it with her wherever she went. I find it in her trunk. Rainbow-colored. Has a kind of magic quality to it, and hey, Rarity is a unicorn, so even better. This will make a nice gift. Coco Pommel from fashion school would've liked it.

I'm a new pony now. I'm Coco Pommel, fashion designer. I don't know what will happen next, I don't know how I'm going to make it in the world, I don't know if I'm going to be discovered as Suri Polomare's killer, but I don't care about any of those things right now. I am Coco, and I have some gifts to give to a very deserving pony.

I think I heard something about Hinny of the Hills...

Author's Note

I wrote most of this in one go and I am shaking now. As I'm primarily a musician, expect an audio interpretation of this at some point. For now, I hope I made you a little uncomfortable. The mind is a place where emotion can supersede rationality, and when there are enough negative factors involved, you can have this happen. But insanity often feels like sanity to the person. So, if you are thinking this is a great idea, I'll just put a disclaimer: killing is bad and you shouldn't do it. Please don't kill your boss with a trophy. That's not cool and probably would get you arrested and stuff.

EDIT: Since it seems like this might be a fun exercise for some of you judging by your reactions in the comments, please ask yourself the following questions. What is this story really about? Is the focus the murder itself or is the focus the state of mind where murder is an eventuality? How reliable of a narrator is Coco? How much of this actually happened as it seemed to from her perspective? Did Suri deserve death? Who is Coco now? Whose death is this really about?