Contrary to what many ponies may think goes on in the city I live in, Manehatten is a dark, grim, cruel place. I have been living here since birth and I have seen pretty much everything that it has to offer; dealing all kinds of strange things, thefts happening every single minute and even seeing newly dead ponies, laying in their own blood on the streets.
My name is Shooting Star, a unicorn that recently became a stallion, slowly stepping away from the comfort of my parent's hooves and entering the world on my own. The reason I didn't say 'parents''? Take a wild guess. My father was walking home from his work when I was about 8 years old when he was shot by a gang member. He was rushed to hospital, but succumbed to his injuries. I couldn't sleep that day, my dad was the best dad I could have had. He'd only put his work first to make sure that mine and my sister's life was as great as it could be. He'd take us everywhere, from something as small as the zoo to even going to Canterlot for Hearth's Warming Eve. After his death, however, life had been tough for the three of us; my mother, my sister and myself.
My mother didn't take the murder well, she started drinking heavily and continues to drink to this day, though not as much as she did. As for my sister, she simply spent most of the day when we found out comforting my mother. My sister is a unicorn, just like myself, but is a few years older than myself. As for me, I was told the news by my uncle, who I was pretty close to. When he came and told the news to my mother, he came up to my room, knocked then opened the door slowly, seeing me playing with my toys, ignoring the world outside. My uncle was always calm with me, as he knew that I wouldn't take news like this easily. I could tell that he tried his best to explain it to me in a way that I would understand, but wouldn't upset as much as possible. When he told me, hugged me and left, I just sat on my floor in completely silence, completely stiff, not wanting to do anything, losing all will to do anything. To this day, a small part of me is still hurt by this.
As for my uncle, he left Manehatten shortly after saying the news, simply because he didn't want to be another victim to the violence. And my family? We spent the next 10 years living on pretty much the bare minimum. It was tough, but we still got a meal every day and stayed vaguely clean and healthy. Now, I leave my mother and enter the real world. My sister left three years ago, but continued to visit from time to time. It was always good seeing her alive and well. And it still is to this day.
The streets of Manehatten aren't pleasant at all; streets are usually stained with blood, rubbish everywhere and the occasional gunshot, usually once or twice a day. Maybe even thrice. The police had tried to apprehend those that performed the illegal acts, but it's all to no avail, as for every pony they find and arrest, five or so get away with nothing more but a boosted head count. I have no idea who was the one that murdered my father, nopony was around to see who the culprit was, so for the past 10 years, I'm left with a dead father, and no answer to who did it. The streets are the reason why I stay as little time outside as possible. All of the stuff I order is online, from groceries to entertainment. Fortunately, those things manage to get to me safely, or at least as safely as possible out there. I'd say that for the two months that I've been receiving the items I order, I must have had 10 different ponies giving me my items, my only guess to the last ones are either staying away from my side of the city or have been killed.
I must have heard at least twelve or so gunshots, followed by twelve or so bodies outside my apartment in the two months I've been here. I haven't bothered counting, as I try and keep the sounds and sights away from me as much as possible. Sadly, some of the times, that doesn't happen. The newspaper is usually peppered with stories of murders of all kinds, maybe even the occasional suicide. It's part of the reason I unsubscribed from it in just three days.
There must have been at least a third of my my old friends from school that have ended up dead, either from the gangs or from them no longer taking life anymore and deciding to end their own life. The reason why I haven't done it yet? I had promised something to my mother before I left home to begin life as a grown-up pony.
“Before you leave, I want you to make me a promise,” she said, with a tonne of seriousness in her voice and face, “I want to you to not end your own life, no matter how hard life gets. I don't know what I'd do if I heard about two of my favourite stallions in the world ending up no longer being here. One already has gone.”
“I promise you, I won't lay a finger on myself in anyway that will hurt myself on purpose.”
I still hold that promise, and will hold that promise even after she has passed, whenever that may be.
The only thing I'm not certain about is how long it'll be before someone takes my own life for whatever reason. It could be in just a few hours from now, or I could go my entire life, from now to when my body finally decides to give up without anyone laying a blade, bullet or toxin onto me.
All I can do is hope.
Little did I know that hope wouldn't be the only thing I need to survive...