Masks

by Dusk Melody

Rating: teen
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Rainbow Dash, Other, Pinkie Pie, Alternate Universe, Sad, Anthro
Length: 1586

Sadness and depression aren't good bedfellows

A sad stallion has a bad day sat on a bench in Ponyville

Published 2014-11-22 22:00:07 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-22 22:00:07 UTC

The Facade Slips

Thirteen months, two weeks and five days.

That's how long I've been alone for.

That's how long it's been since last October when my wife of thirteen years, the mare of my dreams left me for another stallion. Left me to raise our two young colts. There wasn't any warning, just a telephone call one day saying she wasn't coming home, that she was happier where she was.

Thirteen months, two weeks and five days trapped in my own personal Tartarus. Every day the same as the last, dreading tomorrow coming because it'll be the same as today. An undeserved purgatory from which there is no escape nor respite. I'll give you an example.

7.00 am – The alarm clock rings, jarring me awake from whatever dream I was enjoying. A few seconds spent gathering myself reveals the first of the days disappointments. I am in fact awake again. I wasn't granted the luxury of dying in the night as I had so often wished for. I had to spend another twenty four hours alive. Oh well. I throw on whatever clothes are in front of me, I don't bother to check them anymore. Anything will suffice.

Once dressed in something I go to wake the two colts, one three and the other seven, almost eight. Once awake they accelerate from zero to one hundred miles per hour in the space of seconds, thundering past me down the stairs. I hear the television turned on, Power Ponies or some other nonsense.

Before I get to the bottom of the stairs the demands begin, one wants this breakfast, the other wants something else, they both want drinks, the cat wants feeding, school uniforms need ironing……and a whole other list of the same jobs every morning. In between these jobs I must boil the kettle at least four times for the long awaited morning coffee. Once everything is done I boil it for a fifth time before finally making it. It's eight am before I get to take it my chair, not that I get to enjoy it. Arguments to break up, uniforms to force on the colts before we have to leave for school.

Eight thirty ticks round, the forgotten coffee is cold, as I knew it would be, as it is every morning. I gulp it anyway, wincing as the bitter liquid is forced down my neck. The colts are finally ready for school. We have thirty minutes to complete a twenty minute walk across Ponyville, but their teacher Cheerilee has warned me enough times anymore Lates on the register will not be tolerated.

8.35 am – The walk to school is excruciating in its dullness. A thousand and one repeated facts spew from my older colts mouth, I was interested once, now I hum a tune in my head, not listening. I hurry them along, aware of time passing while trying to hold onto the younger colts hand to stop him running down the street. People pass us on the way, dour miserable faces reflecting my own. I long since gave up trying to smile and greet them with a cheery good morning. Months of sour looks and muttered replies had taught me not to bother.

8.45 am – My older colt realises I'm not listening to him. He pauses in his reiteration of something or other and prepares to unleash a tirade upon me. I brace myself for what's coming. The first “I hate you”, “I wish you weren't here”, “I wish you were dead”, “we want to be with mum” of the day. My oldest makes a point of telling me at least five times per day how much I am hated, how much he wishes it was I who had left and much he wishes I was dead.

How little he realises how much I wish I was dead. I tell myself he doesn't mean it, that he doesn't know the words he's using. I kid myself. He knows alright. If only he knew how much his words hurt. Would it make a difference? I'm sometimes tempted to show him my right arm. There's a cut there for every time he wishes me dead. There will be another later to join its brothers.

8.55 am – I put on my mask as we reach the school. I hitch up a fake smile as we approach the gates, Cheerilee likes a smile. Mechanically I wave the colts through the door, they go without a backwards glance. Moments later the school bell rings. The day is mine. What to do? There's housework back home that needs doing but the thought of being back in that empty cold house alone, full of faded memories makes me shudder. I decide against it, after all the sink full of dishes will be there later, the washing machine with its laundry isn't going anywhere.

9.15 am – With nothing else better to do I decide to go to the nearest store, buy some cigarettes and spend the day on one of the benches scattered about town. Entering the store I requested my usual brand, pack of twenty. As I was served I optimistically attempted a conversation with the shopkeeper to no avail, as soon as the transaction was complete I ceased to exist to him. Back outside I located a suitable bench and commandeered it and picked the first cigarette of many from the packet, lit it and inhaled deeply.

12.30 pm – A few hours had passed since I had sat down. Mostly in silence. There was a growing pile of butts at my feet, the tenth cigarette had just met its end. I noticed a commotion a little way away, coming from Sugar Cube Corner. My interest piqued. I looked over, saw Pinkie Pie bouncing all over the place, breaking out into one of her usual impromptu song and dance numbers, something about smiling, or making her friends happy, or something of that nature. I couldn't help but smile at Pinkie. Then again everyone smiled around Pinkie. Once her routine had finished I noticed her still bouncing about in her usual manner, handing out invites to her party of the week. I held my breath as Pinkie came over, in all the years I’d lived in Ponyville I'd never gotten an invite to a Pinkie Party. Maybe this time would be different? I needn't have gotten my hopes up. She bounced past without a glance, handing an invite to someone I hadn't noticed was standing off to my left. Oh well, maybe next time? Yeah right. I reached back to my cigarette packet and plucked the eleventh victim.

1.13 pm – Still sat on the bench I was idly watching some people a ways off, wondering what they were up to, imagining their routines. It amused me. A rainbow blur overhead distracted me from my thoughts. Rainbow Dash was indulging in her usual stunts in between clearing clouds, wowing the onlookers below, myself included. Damn that girl was impressive. As she swooped low I called her name and waved, I saw an ear flick backward but got no other response from the Pegasus.

That was it. I'd had enough of being ignored by everyone, hell I couldn't even buy a conversation. I stood and began to make my way home, head down and shoulders slumped I felt invisible amongst the crowd. Thoughts occurred to me as I neared the door of my house. Absolutely nobody would miss me if I wasn't here. In the four hours I'd sat on that bench nobody had so much as acknowledged my presence. Even my own colts couldn't stand to be around me. My thoughts turned to the cut I owed myself from earlier. A rare smile broke my lips as I unlocked my door. Maybe my colt would get his wish today after all.

1.45pm – I laid in the bath. Doors locked and mobile turned off. I had just finished the hastily scribbled note downstairs. Of course over the last thirteen months I had often dreamed about ending it, having the release I craved. Every time I had been halted by the thought that it would be my colts who would find me, and as much as they hated me I couldn't bring myself to do that to them. This time was different. They were both at school. Cheerilee would look after them when no one came to collect them. Police would be sent to the house. They would find me. I would be free and my colts would have their wish. I could finally please everyone.

I held the knife confidently in my hand, drawing it smoothly over the skin of my right arm. Gasping at the pain I watched the lines of blood become streams and rivers as I cut deeper. Before I lost too much blood I switched hands, and repeated the process on my other arm. I marvelled at the flow of blood, how it didn't seem to end. I laid back in the bath, getting a little light headed as each beat of my heart pushed more and more of the red liquid out. It felt warm, comforting me as I lay there. My heartbeat was getting fainter now, I felt quite sleepy. For the first and last time in thirteen months, two weeks and five days I let my mask slip, a genuine smile on my face as I closed my eyes.

Very soon everyone would be happy.