As the Moon and its accompanying night gradually gave way to the break of dawn, the Sun peeked over the horizon, its resplendent rays gently coloring the cumulus foundations of the proud pegasus city with a golden hue. True to its name, Cloudsdale was built from the very clouds themselves, the pinnacle of pegasus history, culture, and engineering. Cascades of condensed vapor and liquid rainbow poured from numerous alcoves hidden within its fluffy clouds and gracefully tumbled the long way down to the earth below, and the traditional architecture of the city heartily welcomed the coming of the new day as the Sun bathed them in its warm early light.
The grand city slowly but surely stirred to life, its inhabitants yawning away the last dregs of sleep and drowsily flying off to begin the day anew. All around the city, the pegasi were like busy little bees, darting here, there, and everywhere as they went off to open up their businesses and revive the machinery of their weather factories. All the while, the Sun continued its upward ascent through the morning sky.
It was quite a beautiful sight, and a little pegasus filly named Rainbow Dash watched it all.
As was her daily routine, she had watched it all with rapt attention from behind the window of her room at Cloudsdale Children’s Hospital. Every morning, before Princess Celestia lowered the Moon and raised the Sun, Rainbow Dash would always wake up and hurry over to the window, waiting for the day to start and her hometown to wake itself up. It was something she never failed to do, much like how a well-oiled machine could always be relied upon to perform its function.
The little pegasus filly continued to stare, seeing the Sun rise ever higher and the city grow increasingly lively. In particular, she watched the other pegasi fly through the air, free as the wind that carried them, their powerful wings allowing them to soar and defy the fettering hold of gravity with each practiced flap. Looking a little bit harder, in the distance she could also see fillies and colts around her age beginning their morning practice at a summer flight camp, ready to prove what it means to be a flier.
Oh, how little Rainbow Dash hated them so.
Feeling the telltale pinpricks of small, frustrated tears forming in the corner of her eyes, the small filly finally looked away. Letting her glare simmer down, Rainbow Dash slumped back from the window, unwilling to watch the bustling scene any longer and simply focused on her reflection cast into the glass. Although it was not the first time she examined her body, when Rainbow Dash looked at herself at that moment she could not hold back the look of shame that flashed across her face as she beheld her pathetic form.
In the reflection, she saw a tiny, scrawny filly, and the warring years of disease had visibly taken its toll on her. Her pale cerulean body was too thin and too frail than what it should be. The prismatic mane that was her namesake was scruffy and untamed, the myriad of colors dull to match the forlorn expression on her face. Wretched cerise eyes despondently stared back, far too old and weary for a foal that did not even have her cutie mark. Pitifully small wings unfurled slowly and painfully from where they were usually folded, the feathers as unkempt and unhealthy as ever despite whatever attempt at preening they had been subjected to. They were weak and fragile, certainly unable to hold even her sadly diminished body weight for more than a few seconds without causing her to nearly collapse from overexertion. Rainbow Dash’s mirror image mocked her so, but she managed to let her mind wander nonetheless.
The four walls of her hospital room in Cloudsdale Children’s Hospital, cold and unfeeling and sterile, were all the filly had known for the past couple of years. Like a bird forever trapped within a cage too small, Rainbow Dash yearned to break free—to fly free—but she knew she could not. She had learned that her condition was simply too precarious to chance living away from the hospital. Her father tried to visit her as much as possible, but the visits had lately become more and more infrequent as the mounting hospital bills demanded he work longer and harder hours.
Rainbow Dash oftentimes wondered what it felt to be healthy—to be normal. How would it feel to be able to fly amongst the wind and above the clouds? What would her cutie mark be? What would it be like to live a life without the illness that had been her lifelong companion?
How would it feel to have friends?
She still did not know. Even today, after so long in the hospital, Rainbow Dash was still lonely. The hospital staff was friendly enough, and the other patients—some her own age—had outstretched their own hooves in a placating gesture of hope and friendship.
But the little filly rejected them all. Friends did not matter. She did not need them, for they would not help her get better, and if they did not help her get better then there was no point in letting them into her life. Time and time again, she refused their inconsequential attempts to befriend her, and eventually they just left her alone altogether. She would tolerate the various doctors and nurses that would always be checking up on her, giving her painful shots, and administering her awful medicine, but beyond that she wanted nothing to do with the hospital.
To her, loneliness was a small price to pay for the chance to finally pursue her dreams.
Rainbow Dash may be a sickly foal, but she can—and will—recover by herself. She knew she could do it. She will succeed. One day, she will know what it means to be healthy, and on that day she will leave the hospital and never look back.
On that day, she will fly.
And that day may be today.
A sudden spark of determination ignited in her tired eyes, Rainbow Dash could not help but be overcome by a sense of newfound self-confidence that urged her to simply try—challenge the reality that condemned her to a hospital bed. She looked up and out the window once more, and she saw the motherly embrace of the Sun beckoning her to fly—fly and join her brethren at last in the freedom of the sky.
For the first time in a long time, Rainbow Dash smiled.
Readying herself, she stretched her diminutive wings out as much as she could, ignoring how they already started to ache. She closed her eyes in concentration, allowing only her overwhelming desire to take wing to direct her senses. At her command, her wings flapped slowly, at first just one small thrust per second or so, initially resistant to the foreign motion. However, the movements gradually grew stronger and faster, eventually almost like buzzing as she felt herself being lifted, her hooves no longer making contact with the floor.
She was doing it! She was flying!
But Rainbow Dash was not even a dozen hoof-lengths above the floor, and she was already panting from the exertion. She tried to hold it out as long as possible, but already she could feel herself starting to fall. Lungs burning, she desperately pushed herself as far as she could go, gritting her teeth and almost crying out in pain as her poor, abused wings screamed out in protest. She managed to hold herself aloft for a few seconds more, but gravity was far too cruel and merciless.
Rainbow Dash hit the floor with a dull thud, knocking the wind out of her and torturing her feeble, battered body. She coughed harshly and wheezed pitifully, feebly gasping for air, almost passing out. On and on she kept coughing, the fit lasting for almost a full excruciating minute, but that was nothing compared to the almost audible shattering of her hope and ambitions, the world beyond her window brutally taunting her as she lay there a failure.
Failure.
That word resounded in her mind, far more painful than her illness or any physical injury inflicted upon her body. Try as hard as she might, she could not stop the hot tears from flowing down her bony cheeks as she remained grounded, the pegasi outside free and unaware of the sickly little filly who yearned to fly more than anything else.
The tiny pegasus had curled into a tiny ball on the unfeeling floor as her choked breaths eventually gave way to heaving sobs. She did not know how long she had been crying, but when the tears finally began to subside she reluctantly stole a small glance at the wall clock. The time read three minutes before eight o’clock. Sniffling, she felt a headache coming on, disorienting her slightly.
She whimpered miserably, automatically realizing what she would have to endure next.
Rainbow Dash wiped away the last of her tears with a shaking hoof. She turned away from the window, ignoring the mocking and jeering of the unreachable sky behind her, and slowly began staggering back to her bed, steadfastly disregarding the intensifying dizziness and the agony in her wings. After some slight difficulty, she groaned achingly as she crawled back under her covers, cocooning herself beneath layers of linen as she anxiously waited for her nurse to bring her her medicine. She inwardly winced at the thought, just like she always did.
The various medicines she had to take were yucky and expensive, and there were far too many of them for her liking. Even after going through countless prescriptions every single day for the past couple of years, the pegasus had never gotten used to them, nor did she think she ever would, holding back disgusted expressions at every dose of medication that entered her system.
Regardless of how she felt, Rainbow Dash braced herself once more as she heard the nurse open the door.
After all, she could not become a Wonderbolt if she did not take her medicine.
The knife trembled in a grip of uncertain conviction. It was a worn, stainless steel blade of barely mediocre quality, meant only for cutting poorly cooked cafeteria meals at best, but with enough force it would perform its function well enough. She had snuck it out with her during last night’s meal, but now it was to be used for a new purpose. Shaking, it was currently poised at her slender neck, ready to part the hairs of her soft coat and slice through the soft skin underneath, ready to spill warm blood, ready to end it all…
With a tearful sob, the butter-yellow pegasus filly tossed the knife away, and it clattered some distance off to the side, unseen and nowhere to be found.
She could not do it. She simply did not have the courage to finish it, to end her life, to feel the cold metal rip away at her flesh, feeling the thick blood pool around her... No. Thinking about it, letting the depths of dark mercy overwhelm her like that, embracing her being and guiding her to an unknown place far more forgiving than anything she experienced in her short life… Well, it could have been something forgiving… but she just could not bear it.
What could be the reason? Fear, perhaps? Of what? The pain? The blood? Or what comes after? It would be for but a short moment, and then, before she realized it, it would be over. It was a far kinder fate than enduring a lifetime of endless torment and suffering.
Yet she still could not go through with it.
Why?
The world could be such a cruel place, and the little pegasus filly named Fluttershy knew that all too well. She breathed heavily, her eyes shut tight as her mind screamed at her from all directions.
Weak, worthless Fluttershy…
You don’t deserve to live…
You are a disgrace…
You would be doing everypony a favor, you know…
It would be the greatest act of kindness for yourself, too…
So why won’t you die…?
Just die…
JUST DIE ALREADY!
But she could not do it. Fluttershy choked back a sob. She shook as she just stood there in the middle of the empty barracks of Cloudsdale’s summer flight camp. Cold sweat stained her brow. Her knees felt weak. She felt faint. In spite of her situation, she felt immensely relieved that nopony had been there to witness her failure, thankful that they had all been outside practicing their drills and playing with each other. She began to weep silently, letting her breaths come out in short gasps and her tears stream down her cheeks as feelings of worthlessness and despair threatened to overtake her completely. Her entire body ached. The various bruises dotting her body—courtesy of a certain group of colts who had been a bit more… outspoken than the rest of the foals—certainly contributed to the pain, but that stabbing feeling in her heart was far more excruciating than any of the blows that had been dealt on her fragile form.
Head down and shoulders hunched, she half-limped, half-crawled to her little bed far off in the corner of the barracks, and instead of retreating beneath the covers she opted to simply disappear beneath the shadows below the bed, willing to ignore the obvious unsanitariness and suffocating darkness, and prayed that nopony would ever find her. They would not want to look for her anyways. Somepony as insignificant as her should not warrant any time or attention for worry.
Hopefully.
Within her dark, tiny, grimy sanctuary, Fluttershy could hardly move, but that was all right with her. She felt only a bit safer, but it was enough. She even managed to finally stop crying. From the limited viewpoint her position offered her, she could barely see a little bit of morning sunlight streaming through a small window, motes of dust visible within it as they carelessly hovered around in imperceptibly minute currents of air. The golden ray of light beckoned her to come and join her classmates outside in the glory of the idyllic day, but Fluttershy knew better. She knew how falsely warm and inviting the world outside really was. She heard the accompaniment of the distant laughs and cheers of her “fellow” campers, knowing how they were but a façade that hid the remorseless cruelty within their core.
Fluttershy withdrew into herself even more. Curled into a tiny, quivering ball and face hidden beneath her long, pale rose mane for good measure, the filly refused to budge out from her cramped spot beneath her bed. Despite the discomfort one would normally find with staying in such an enclosed space, she was somewhat content with her present situation. Here, in the confines of her pathetic refuge, she was safe from the outside world. Here, she was by herself, and there was nopony to hurt her. There was nopony to watch her fail again and again.
Nice going, “Klutzershy!”
But the memories were already seared into her mind, ceaselessly mocking her.
The little filly whimpered. It has been only a week or so since summer flight camp started, but to Fluttershy it felt like a thousand years—a thousand years of pure, unadulterated shame, humiliation, and misery. Within the first few minutes of stepping onto the camp complex, Fluttershy was already assaulted by the teasing of her peers, her withdrawn demeanor and awkward, lanky frame almost immediately drawing attention. It did not help that she was obviously older than any of the other foals—already past the beginnings of puberty—and yet she still did not have a cutie mark.
And that was even before they found out about her flying ability.
They oughta ground you permanently!
Ha! My little brother can fly better than you!
My mom says that “fliers” like you don’t belong in Cloudsdale!
Fluttershy! Fluttershy! Fluttershy can hardly fly!
Fluttershy! Fluttershy! Fluttershy can hardly fly!
FLUTTERSHY! FLUTTERSHY! FLUTTERSHY CAN HARDLY FLY!
The pegasus filly could still hear the taunts shouting at her, getting louder and loader and cutting deeply into her psyche, although she was far away from the hubbub of a dozen enthusiastic foals—all who she knew just wanted to make fun of her any chance they could get. Even when those foals were not present, they still managed to laugh and jeer at her. She was not safe at all. Fluttershy could feel her breath quicken. She could feel frightened tears forming in her eyes again and let out a scared little squeak. As the voices grew harsher, more intense, more relentless, the terrified filly silently pleaded for them to stop, to leave her alone, but they continued to plague her and wear away at what little willpower she had left.
The pegasus could feel her sobs return in full force, and she did not bother holding them back. Why, oh why did she agree to sign up for flight camp? Her parents loved her, did they not? Why would they make her go through this hell? But deep down, Fluttershy knew that she could not blame her parents. They only wanted what they thought was best for her. As a pegasus, she had to be a decent flier at the very least; in Cloudsdale, a grounded pegasus, as appealing as the prospect may be, was unthinkable.
No, this was not her parents’ fault in the least. It was entirely hers. There was nopony to blame but herself. Why did she have to be such a weak flier? She could just barely get through even the most basic of exercises, and anything more advanced she utterly fell flat of mere adequacy. She could not even fly through a couple of cloud rings without touching the edges!
Why was she so pathetic? Stronger ponies would try to stand up for themselves. They would get up and keep going no matter what. In the back of her mind, Fluttershy knew she had to get out sometime—and while this terrified her, perhaps… perhaps she should just find her courage and simply get it over with. Eventually, she should crawl out from under the bed… walk over to the barracks door and open it… join the outside world once more… get laughed and teased at again and again… tearfully bear the shame of being one of the worst fliers the camp has seen in its long history…
Nononononono!
But Fluttershy was not a strong pony. She bit her lip and let loose a keening wail that shattered the silence of the empty, lonely barracks, no longer able to prevent herself from giving in completely to the anguish and hopelessness.
No. No, she could not do it. She could not face them. She just was not strong enough; she would never be strong enough. What should she do, then? She wished she were home, safe in her room, where nopony could make fun of her. No, not just that. She wished she could just disappear forever. But she was too scared. Her futile attempt not ten minutes earlier was proof of that. It absolutely crushed her to know that, one way or another, she would have to give in eventually. She continued to bawl, her tears neverending, and she almost coughed from the dust bunnies that were disturbed by her choked breaths and hiccups.
What to do? Oh, what to do?
…
…
…
For now, she would just keep hiding.
If she was lucky, then nopony would find her.
If she was not…
Well…
Maybe she will not throw away the knife next time.
