A Bright, Red Scream

by Magnum Vox

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Sad
Length: 1256

Sometimes life is too much, and we don't know how to let it go. So we let it out with tears, screaming, and blood.

Life is often called a game, or at least compared to one. If it really was, it's the hardest game any of us will ever play. Everything is a random event. Everything is one-hit kill. And it weighs on our emotions. We get sad, angry, even hateful. But we all have some way to deal with that. But what happens when we don't? When we hold it in, and let it eat us alive?
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A 6 chapter mini-series revolving around depression and self-mutilation.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-24 16:00:02 UTC

Get Me Out Of My Head

Rainbow Dash sat alone in her living room, her parents out drinking and probably cheating on one another again. In one hoof she held a bottle of Shining Armor and in the other she grasped a very recently sharpened knife. As she drank and bled, she sobbed over her life. While she certainly was the best flier in school, and was rather "popular", she hated nearly every moment she was awake. Rainbow knew everyone thought she was a whore, though she was still a virgin. She knew that she had no real friends; no shoulder to cry on at times like these. Dash took another swig and slit her wrist deeper. Her loud sobs subsided into quiet sniffles. and then she stopped crying all together.

Dashie's mind felt like a bog of unpleasant thoughts and crushing realities. She felt somber as she shakily rose to get her father's gun, she then stopped mid-step. There, on the coffee table, lie an old stuffed bear - the one that she's had since she was a baby. Carefully, slowly, she picked it up. Suddenly weak-in-the-knees, she collapsed into tears and blubbering. As she clutched to the stuffed relic, her mind was flooded with thoughts of happy childhood memories, and regret about what she had almost done. About twenty minutes later, Rainbow Dash finally stopped crying. She cleaned herself off and patched up as best she could before heading off to bed. By the time her parents got home, she was fast asleep.

It Will Go Away, Just Give It Time

Twilight felt sad. As much as she told herself it was just hormones and she was being irrational, she just couldn't bring herself out of it. You could have asked her what was wrong as much as you'd like, but she wouldn't have told you the truth. The truth was eating her alive and ruining her mind, it hurt her more than anything, because it was everything. Her life was so damn empty. She clung closely to Mr. Smartypants. Tears ran down the ragged, old plushie. He was her only friend and had stuck by her through thick and thin. For as much of a genius as Twilight could be (and was), she couldn't make friends as hard as she tried. A while back she had resolved to stop trying and told herself just to dive deeper into her studies. Until now that had worked, but the pressure of doing so is too much for anypony. For her it hurt almost physically.

She started to rock back and forth, bawling quietly and clinging to Mr. Smartypants. More than anything she longed for companionship, affection, and caring from someone she wasn't related to. Twilight was sad and she wanted it to end. Quickly, without time to think about it, she got up and went into the bathroom. She grabbed one of her father's new, clean razors and held it to her wrist. She pushed down on her wrist, a pang of guilt stopping her from tugging it across. A single blood drop splattered across the floor. The young pony dropped the blade and collapsed to her knees. Guilt and shame forced their way inside her mind. She wasn't even bleeding anymore, yet her heart felt broken beyond repair and her mind was soaked in misery. Suddenly she felt too tired to even get up, so she lay there for a moment. Then another. Another. Another. Sleep was whispering sweet promises in her ears loud enough to be a scream. Twilight gathered enough will to sloppily place a bandage on her wrist and wipe the blood from the floor before walking back into her room and collapsing on the floor.

It Sucks To Wake Up

Fluttershy awoke with an excruciating headache. She wondered silently what happened the previous night, until she saw the still-bleeding slits on her wrists. Quickly she got up off her bedroom floor and scurried into the bathroom. There, she cleaned and bandaged her wounds as best she could. After she placed the last bandage on her last cut, Fluttershy slumped to the floor. She began another crying fit, similar to the one from last night. Her thoughts were aimed at how lonely she was, how much everyone hated her, and her lack of friends. She wasn't a skilled flier. In fact, she was the worst in her school. Oh, how she wished to be an Earth-pony. Life would be so much easier. She might even have friends.

Fluttershy grabbed the knife from atop the bathroom sink. As she dragged the blade from one end of her wrist to the other, the bad thoughts and memories of her life thus far started to fade. Her mind cleared. Her emotions all but dead; she zoned off. She stared off at emptiness for what seemed like forever. Slowly she came back to reality, somewhat disappointed in herself. It's not like she had another option. Sometimes she wished she could will herself to die. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe things will get better. Probably not.

I Just Want To Do It Right

Young Rarity sat alone in her room. She was on her floor, staring blankly at the pages of unfinished, past-due homework. The young fashion designer didn't know what to do. She wasn't very good at any of the subjects in school that didn't involve some sort of culture or creativity. Math, she was decent, but not good at. Science was a very difficult subject for her, there wasn't any part of it she really truly grasped. Many of her classmates were whizzes with calculations and the sciences. Rarity just wasn't one of those ponies. She leaned back on her bed, a slight depression creeping into her mind. What if she failed? What if she didn't graduate? Everypony would hate her. She would be letting her family down. She would be letting herself down.

The depression began to consume her. Tears began to fall down her face as she tucked her knees up to her. Normally she would be dramatic about it, bawling loud enough for her parents to hear. Tonight, there was too much pushing down on her and too much she couldn't handle. Slowly she curled into a small, sad, tear-streaked ball on her floor. Every thought that came to her was muddied and unclear. She could only feel the deep sadness of failure welling up inside of her. Oh how she wished for a release. Something to make this slip away. Something to make her mind clear again. Rarity thought back to that one time she had read about cutters and why they cut. She thought about maybe trying it for herself. It calmed her a bit just to think about doing it. Slowly she got up, heart racing. The young white pony walked to her bathroom, where sometimes her father shaved. She picked out a sharp, unused one. As she held it to her wrist regret started to seep into her stream of conscious. Quickly she cut herself once, dropping the blade almost immediately after. Celestia, it hurt. Then, as she stared at the small amount of blood that trickled out of her extremely shallow wound, a calming, numbing sensation flowed over her. Thoughts of failure were gone. As were any other clear thought. Rarity sat back against the bathroom wall. Very few thoughts other than of how calm she was came to her. It had worked. She felt okay. Not good. Not bad. Alive.