Ever had that feeling in your chest? A heavy, woeful feeling, like an anvil being dropped atop your stomach. It’s a painful feeling, but a feeling all must face through the harsh journey that is life. The feeling of a heart, shattering, and leaving an array of glimmering crimson glass, twinkling in the sunlight, like and explosion of red fireworks. It is a wonderful sight, but not wonderful to experience
Sadly, I suffered this painful fate, left swelling with a never-ending sense of guilt. I hate retelling my story, a tale that left me a shell of a stallion. Breaking my spirit, mind, and feeling, crushing my senses like a stab to the throat. But I know, no matter how much I hate to do it, I will tell you my story. In hopes you don’t suffer the same fate. The fate of a tragic loss…
***************************
Walls crumble around us when things go bleak, there is no denying that. And similar to good ole Mother Nature, our problems lack sympathy, and thrive off pain. I never asked for any of this to happen and I would rather die than relive it, but the dread that circled in my stomach hurt so bad, no words can describe it.
I stared blankly at the white tiled floor of the waiting room; my heart thrashing so violently, I swore it would have blown through my chest. I couldn’t stop the shaking of my legs, and my hooves trembled more and more every waking moment.
The ceiling fan above me continued to spin, spitting damp and unsatisfying gushes of air onto my face. I ignored it, and dabbed the sweat from my forehead. I was focusing on too much at a time to think straight.
When something so surprising, so terribly unexpected occurs in your life, you really are left confused if it was just an illusion or reality. The hoping, praying, wishing that this isn’t really happening. I looked up from my lap, staring through the one window on the waiting room, looking over the myriad of stars outside, the moon standing beside them like a king above its followers.
“Please Celestia,” I whispered to myself, “Please oh please tell me I’m dreaming…. Please.”
The loneliness of the waiting room grew unsettling, the echoing ticks of a single clock, the stomping of ponies running about on upper and lower levels of the building, and the god awful silence that followed. The only other pony in the room besides me was a nurse, sitting behind a glass frame at her desk, staring uncaringly at a stack of papers. I wondered how somepony could remain so calm in a place full of crisis and injury.
The front door of the waiting room slowly creaked open. I jumped to my hooves, waiting to see who it was. But to my relief and disappointment, five ponies walked into the room, faces drenched in a look of worry.
The orange one shielded her eyes with her hat; I could barely see her quivering lip beneath the shadows of her bright blond mane. A pink one walked by me next, hair drooped down like a deflated balloon, and her eyes; drained of color. Next was a white coated pony, eyeliner dripping down her cheeks and mouth slightly agape. Then came a much different mare. She walked hunched over, face completely obscured by her thin pink mane. I could barely hear her muffled cries and chokes as she walked out of the room. Finally, the only pony I recognized came by.
Twilights eyes were aimed towards the floor, and she seemed to be in a trance of some sort. I approached her; my footing was unsteady as I did so. As our eyes met, I asked the simple, yet complicated question, “Is she ok?”
She stared blankly for a moment before replying, “She’s… she’s ok, just… not in great shape.”
I felt a sinking feeling in my heart, “I mean, how bad is it? She’s gonna be ok, right? RIGHT!?”
Twilight was taken aback by my sudden outburst; I hadn’t even noticed I was yelling. After a deep breath, and a few moment of recollection, I asked again, much quieter this time,” Is she going to be ok?”
“She’s conscience, and she’s talking plenty,” Twilight said, “but the damage is…” she paused, gulping back a lump in her throat, “the damage is pretty bad.”
I wanted to say something, but words didn’t form. She didn’t deserve this fate, I did. NOT HER!
My thoughts were cut short when Twilight spoke again, “But on the bright side, she wouldn’t stop talking about you.” She gave me a withered giggle, and I smiled briefly, before it faded away, thinking about the situation at hoof.
The door behind us opened once more, standing in the entrance was a pony dressed in a white coat, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck, clipboard gripped in one arm, “Is a Mr. Soarin in the room?” he asked.
Twilight gave me a slight nod, followed by an even slighter grin before walking out of the room to catch up with her friends.
I approached the doctor pony, my whole body quaking so frequently; I swore I would fall to pieces at any moment. The doctor stared at me with a serious expression before he began to speak. “Soarin is the name, right?” he asked, eyeing his clipboard.
“Yes,” I said, almost whispering.
“Well, Ms. Dash has requested to see you now, but I must give the following warnings. It’s mandatory for all patient guests.”
I prepared myself for whatever he may say next, tensing up slightly, but I let him begin. “Ms. Dash is not in the healthiest of conditions, as you already know, so I advise you do not provoke her in any way shape or form. Understood? We want her as placid as possible to get well as soon as possible.”
His strict tone of voice reminded me of Spitfire, shouting orders on the course, but I ignored that thought and agreed to his terms of conditions. “Now you are the last guest of the night,” he said, “Ms. Dash’s parents and friends already greeted her, I assume you’re her spouse?”
I froze up at the question, “Uh… no, no I’m not,“ bowing my head slightly, “Just a close friend.”
“Well alright then,” he announced, “I’ll bring you to her room; take as much time as you need.”
I gave a nod before he finally lead me out of that godforsaken waiting room. As we walked through the white hallways, silence seamed to engulf me. The place was eerily quiet at night. But the stillness is not what left me so uneasy. It was knowing that Dash didn’t deserve this fate. I did. I should have been hit.
Before long, I was brought to a pair of double doors. A piece of paper had been taped to the wall, just beside the room number.
Patient: Rainbow Dash
