A Slave's Freedom

"Three weeks?"

Redheart nods.

"Ya sure she ain't dead?"

"P-Positive," Redheart says with a chuckle. "She'll be fine, Dyson. We just have to wait until she wakes up." She looks at the thing attached to my arm. Slowly, she glides her forehoof over the wound. I grimace. "Did you tug on this?"

I stare blankly at the needle. The dang thing is near through my arm. I can feel it jabbing in me, but I can't do a thing about it. "I did."

Momma told me not to lie.

"Why?"

That question seems obvious to me. I thought it was killing me. I didn't know why it was in my arm. I guess Redheart knows? "I thought it be killin' me."

She laughs loudly at me. Her hoof returns to her side. "I have not heard of that b-before!" She gives me a bright smile. "Don't move that arm much, Dyson." She turns her attention to the bag. "This bag holds the water you need to survive!"

"That's water?" I say in disbelief. "How is water red?"

She smiles. "That's because we added a little bit of cherry juice into the bag. It helps our patients sleep so you can heal quicker."

I raise a brow at this. "And what is the alternative?"

She frowns. "Magic…" Her gaze turns to those dreaded curtains again. "But it could cause radiation."

"Pardon?"

She lets out a slight chuckle. "Magical radiation can happen in those who are not used to magic being in their bodies. As a result, it acts as a… poison." She pauses to sit on her haunches. "If the one who is absorbing the magic gets too much, they could die a slow, painful death."

"Am I okay with 'em?"

She shakes her head. "That's why we cannot use magic on you…" She shakily sighs. "W-We don't know how much magic you've already absorbed."

I frown and watch as her hoof slowly grazes the railing of my bed. Sighing, I grab it and squeeze gently. She yelps, but does not pull away. I look up at her and say, "Don't be so worried. She and I will be makin' it." I point to Rainbow Dash's bed, or so I know, since that curtain is in the way. "She promise me that I be meetin' her friends, so I goin' do that." With that, I let go of her hoof.

The white hoof does not retreat. "Thank you, Dyson." She grabs my hand. "I'll promise you the same."

I smile and look at the monitor. The line was constant, and not so irregular. It bounced, and bounced, but at a slow, calm pace.

I think the machine isn't sorry for me anymore.

Time passes. Redheart is in, bringing me food, checking my water supply, and making sure I'm not in pain, before she heads out to help some other pony—what I am assuming. She sometimes stays by me, asking me what I did today and if I need my pillow adjusted, but nothing else. I'm wondering if she even cares about who I am, where I am from, or better yet, telling me how Rainbow Dash is doing. Redheart never tells me. She keeps saying that she is still asleep, dreaming about flying, sleeping on clouds, and most importantly her friends. She might be dreaming of me. Not sure if that makes my heart at ease or tells me that she needs to stop dreaming and get back out here so we can meet her friends—I'm rambling again.

There's not much to do here but ramble and sleep. Driving myself insane just laying here, restless and wondering if we will ever get out of this place. I told Redheart that we would, but healing takes a while. I should know, since these old wounds remind me every day that I'm still not healed physically. Strips of flesh toss and turn to the reminders of loud cries for help and eerie growls in the dark. They should leave the light on. Not one, which dangles over my head, but several small lights. Let there be more witnesses than just one.

I slowly draw my attention to the door. White doors, white walls, white curtains—everything is an opposite to me—they all stay clear in the dark. I can see them bright as ever, but Rainbow Dash is someone I can never see.

Maybe I should ask—

The door opens.

"Dyson, how are you doing?"

The normal question. It's been four weeks now, you should know.

"Fine."

A dry response, which makes her left ear twitch, is all I can give her.

"That's good." That is a lie. "Any changes in pain?"

This is different. Reminders, of course, but no sharp pains of freshly gained wounds. I give her a nod.

Her eyes widen. "Higher or lower?"

The sudden panic is something I did not suspect. "Lower."

She breathes a soft sigh of relief. Adjusting her white cap, one that she has been wearing lately to protect her once free pink bun, and giving me a bright smile, she says, "Then we'll keep you on the same track."

"Okay," I mutter. She does not care for the other pain I'm feeling.

She slides her hoof over my arm again. The needle does not move. "Care if we take this out today?"

My eyes widen. That's new. "Why?"

She giggles. Why? "Because you're able to do it all by yourself, now." She dabs something on my arm with a cotton ball. "So, yes or no?"

Looks like it's a yes or yes situation. I give her a nod.

She smiles. Master does that too, sometimes.

"You'll feel a little twinge—"

The needle is out. I feel that twinge. It felt like something was crawling deep within my skin. Then, nothing. The air sucks into the hole.

"There, that wasn't so bad!" She lays the needle on a tray beside her. Her eyes glaze over me, and she gasps. "What's wrong?"

"I hurt."

Images of the cave flicker in my mind. Hunger, calling. The needle slides out again.

"How much?"

Should I tell her it isn't something she has a pill for? Is she going to help me this time? Am I okay?

Breathing deeply, I shake my head. "No pill can help me with this." I gesture to the curtain. "Can I see 'er?"

The images flicker again, but the cave is brighter. The smile on Redheart tells me the world is okay.

As Redheart opens her mouth, I think of the possibilities. If she says no and turns away from me to leave me to fester on thoughts of her being dead, then I will hop out of the bed, no matter how badly injured I am, and crawl or hobble over to my friend—my only friend here—and see if she is okay. However, if she says yes, and leads me to Rainbow Dash's side, I will smile and tell her I'm here. Tell her I'm awake. Tell her to come back to the real world—is this real?

The sudden thought breaks my stride.

Maybe I am not real. I am still my Master's—

"Yes."

My blood begins to pump faster and faster to the sounds of freedom. I look up at Redheart.

"Rainbow Dash has been getting better, but she is still in a coma."

Stricken, but better? I nod and begin to leave my bed when Redheart sticks a hoof to my chest.

"Nuh-uh," she says, waving her other forehoof in front of my eyes. "Not until we get you a wheelchair," A what? "Dyson, wait here."

She leaves the room. The temptation to leave my bed is in front of me. And yet, I must respect her. Respect Redheart. She is only guiding me to freedom and to her, Rainbow Dash.

Why do I care so much?

Because she got me to be free. She is freedom.

I let my eyes linger over the curtain. Is she happy dreaming in her coma-like state?

The squeaky wheels of an old, beat-up chair destroys any further thought. Redheart rolls the wheelchair over to my side. "Carefully sit in the chair, Dyson. Your legs are not ready to stand on their own, yet."

"Legs? Ya mean my other one is not amputated?"

She laughs.

"Amputation is not used anymore, Dyson!" My ear twitches. My skin crawls. I won't be losing my leg. "You'll be able to walk in a month or two. Through intense therapy, that is."

I fall into the chair and smile. "I like that."

I like it all.

Sitting beside her bed, seeing that body of a broken mare snore like she did in the cave, sets my heart at ease.

"I'll leave you two alone."

Redheart closes the door behind her with a gentle click, leaving her and I alone. The darkness creeps into the room.

Where should I start?

"Hi…"

That sounded weak.

"Hi, Rainbow Dash."

Better.

"I know ya can hear me—"

Do I? Nurse Redheart didn't tell me.

"I think ya might be hearin' me. Not sur', but I know ya be dreamin' of us two."

I hope so.

"Maybe ya can stop dreamin' now? I be seein' ya sleepin' and I don't know if I can bear ya snorin' any longer."

Laugh. Laugh loudly. See if she can wake up from that hollering like my sister did.

She doesn't laugh.

"Ya would wake up and be embarrassed right now. All 'round me and tellin' me I cannot be tellin' nobody 'bout this."

I frown.

"Yet ya still aren't up."

Her chest rises and falls as it has done.

"I really want ya to wake up. This place is borin'…"

Without you.

"Hunger and Master not 'ere."

My stomach growls in response.

"Hush you!" I look up at her face. "I hope ya wake up soon. I will be waitin' here ‘til you do."

Time passes.

Hours, weeks, months, years?

Nurse Redheart comes in on and off to check in with me, do some therapy—putting pressure on my feet, walking a step or two, sometimes even around the room—and then she leaves. I disposed of the wheelchair last week.

"Rainbow Dash. I be standin' now, beside you!"

It's great to be free from those chains.

And those chains are still on her.

"Wake up! Please…"

I look down at the ground.

"Please?"

The curtain will always be still.

"D-Dyson?"

Until the curtain call begins.