“No! No! No! I don't want to! Stop! PLEASE, STOP!” The purple unicorn woke kicking and screaming. She scrambled out of her bed, tripping over books she had spent the last night obsessing over. It took her very little time to realize her night lamp had gone out. Although she needed no light to feel the cold tears running down her face or to feel the sadness encase her like a cold draft, she still needed the light. She needed the light to feel safe; she needed the light to assure her there was still good in the world. She continued to struggle, fighting through the clutter, trudging towards her oil lamp despite the resistance, hoping to light it once again and fight off her inner demons. Disoriented from having woke so abruptly and violently, she couldn't calm herself. After what felt like an eternity, her thrashing led her to fall on her lamp. Assured that the lamp was still functional after examining it in the dimmest of moonlight, she lit it.
Twilight was safe – for now. Laying on the floor, she was exhausted from her struggle to achieve light. The only thing faster than her beating heart was her racing mind. Her mane looked like weeds growing unappealingly, her body reeked of a physical struggle, and her face was unevenly stripped with the path of fallen tears. She was an absolute mess, but she had light. She was safe.
Twilight took time to compose herself, trying to forget the whole ordeal. But she could not compose herself; she was still scared. She could not forget; she was still scarred.
Being home alone was not Twilight's idea of a good night. Nights she spent alone gave her the unfortunate time to think about her past. Every time Spike was sent to Canterlot on royal business, she put on a brave face but it ate her up inside. Only so many excuses were available to fabricate reasons to spend the nights with a friend, and at times, Smarty Pants was incapable of filling the void of loneliness. To Twilight's dismay, this was currently her position. Spike was in Canterlot for two weeks and her friends were preoccupied for many of those nights.
This was not the first time uncontrollable panic overcame Twilight. Nightmares were all too common when the mare was left alone at night, but the real panic came when she would awake to darkness.
She despised darkness.
It seemed the darker the night, the more vivid her painful past became. Those fateful events during magic kindergarten still haunted her; the constant state of fear never ended.
The nightmares were getting worse.
They were happening more often.
They were becoming more vivid.
These facts pained Twilight. She thought for the longest time it was something that could be controlled. It could be suppressed. It could be forgotten, but after every nightmare, every struggle, every panic attack, her control waned.
It was apparent that freedom from flashbacks was no longer possible. Suppression of past memories was no longer controllable. Twilight knew from her studies this wasn't healthy; keeping secrets and bottling it up inside would lead to disastrous results, but she still foolishly continued to do so by hiding everything from everyone, even the princess.
The physical pain had long stopped but the emotional pain was unrelenting. Twilight knew this. Somewhat calmer now, she sat up and viewed the room. The lamp cast dim light on the destruction that was her bedroom. The bed was frayed, towers of books had been flattened, and odd silence filled the room. She rescued Smarty Pants from a pile of books with her magic and they shared an affectionate moment. She systematically walked towards her mirror almost as if she was programmed to do so. She stood in front of the mirror, Smarty Pants tagging along. Realization of how bad off she was hit instantly. She saw every detail of her tangled mane, her tear-pierced face, and she could smell the pungent stench of panic. This night was too much; she broke from reality. “Look at what you have become,” Smarty Pants iterated with an undeniably recognizable voice.
“Mo- mo- mom?” Twilight said jumping back.
“You were such a beautiful girl. You used to run around and play with your friends. You were obsessed with flowers, and I certainly know you were never afraid of the dark. But look at you now! Crying. Sad. Fearful of the night. It's hard to stand back and watch my little girl suffer like this! What happened? What went wrong? Was it Us?”
“No! It wasn't you or dad. It's just. It's just... I can't take it anymore. The pain.”
Twilight dropped Smarty Pants and lowered her head.
“I cannot take it any longer!”
Rage overcame Twilight as she stomped towards her writing stand, listing numerous names on a piece of parchment. She finished off the letter with, “to those who caused my suffering, to those who let it continue, I am seeking your retribution. - Twilight Sparkle.”
It was decided; if retribution led, only then could closure follow. Twilight began to frantically pack for the undoubtedly long trip she was about to embark on. There were still, at the very least, two hours of darkness left. Now would be the best time to leave as she would have a large head start before anyone came to look for her. She knew she had to travel light and elected to only take a small saddlebag. She packed the necessities: cloths, food, bits. She folded the letter she had just finished writing and put it into a small pocket. Other things were also essential to pack. “Lists” of those who had wronged her complied ahead of time. “Tips” on how to deal with said people. All made in an attempt to cope with her past. She put on a trench coat in an attempt to conceal her identity. Her bag was packed and mounted; Filled to the brim with oil, her lamp was prepared to keep her safe in the darkness for as long as possible.
Twilight was almost out of the door when she caught herself. She had forgotten something very important. “Smarty Pants!” she realized. Galloping back to her bedroom, words of forgiveness poured from her mouth as if she had committed an egregious sin. She picked him up, cuddled him, and uttered the words, “I'm sorry.” She looked at him one last time before she packed him away. The old and worn toy who had seemingly convinced Twilight to start a crusade now looked at Twilight with a look of discontent.
“Don't look at me like that!” Twilight demanded.
There was no change in expression.
“Please!” she begged.
Smarty Pants stayed steadfast.
“We have to do this! It's the only way!”
Twilight spent the next few minutes quietly waiting for a look of approval. Hoping that Smarty Pants would change his mind. Again, there was no change. After minutes of frustration, Twilight finally threw Smarty Pants in her bag angrily. “Stupid toy!”
