Chapters Fluttershy backed away. Stormy Flight stepped closer to his daughter, his face an unreadable mask. The 18 year old girl reeled back against the basement wall, her pupils incredibly dilated in fear, so much so they were scarce more than small black dots swimming in the whites of her huge eyes.
"You're a disgrace!" Stormy yelled, his coal black hair hiding his face. "You can't even finish a fucking test! Why the hell are you here?" Fluttershy's father had been drinking. He did this when he was drunk. Her mother was probably locked away in the upstairs bedroom. Flitterbug always hid when this happened, and never acknowledged it's happening. To her the man she had married too young was perfect, though he was far from it. Stormy brought his fist to meet his daughter's face. Hard. Fluttershy tried not to cry as blood filled her mouth. The taste of the blood was common for her, due to the many times her father had done this. Stormy pulled a cigarette out of his mouth and grabbed Fluttershy's arm, extinguishing the still burning cigar on her arm, where countless other burn marks were still there, never to heal. Her father grabbed a knife from a table. Her eyes widened even more if it was possible.
"NO!" she screamed, her eyes shooting open.
Fluttershy woke suddenly, her pupils still dilated in fear. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Only a nightmare. Her father had been in jail for 10 years. Only a nightmare. She pushed her covers off and walked into the bathroom. The glowing lights around the mirror illuminated the room, shining on her pale skin. She reached over to the sink to grab her hairbrush, pulling it through her tangled, pale pink hair. She pulled off her sweater, feeling the sweat soaked shirt leave her skin. She pulled her undershirt over her head as well, followed by her pajama pants and underwear. She dragged the curtain to her shower open, then closed. Turning the handle, she heard the satisfying hum of the pipes as the water spouted from the shower head. The water washed over her body, cleaning off the sweat and clearing her head. She needed to stop fearing Stormy Flight. Fluttershy's father. Her abusive, Goddamn father. He never deserved to live. But now... now she sounded like him. She shook her head, flinging water from her wet hair everywhere, the sharp sound as it smacked against the curtain bringing her to her senses.
Fluttershy stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Her teal-green eyes were finally calm, and her breathing had fallen into a regular pattern again. While she would be haunted by the memories of her father for the rest of her life, she could finally rest easy. When she was 8, her friend Pinkamena, who was 9, had told her parents that she heard "Mr. Flight" yelling bad words at Fluttershy. Then she had heard Fluttershy scream. So Pinkie's parents had told the police, who investigated, and discovered that Stormy Flight had a history of drug use, alcoholism, and smoking. Further investigation showed that he had abused his daughter both physically, and mentally. The mentally broken girl had always seemed weak and shy among her friends, but they never asked her why. Unbeknownst to them, this only added to Fluttershy's depression. Did her friends truly care, if they never asked about the truth behind her shy demeanor? No one would ever listen to the troubles of a shy girl who never spoke, anyways.
Pinkamena smiled as she finished cleaning the last of the remnants of her latest party. She pulled a balloon down from the ceiling, tying its string around her bag to take home. She recalled her first party. It was the first time her father had smiled. And it was afterwards she found out why. "Pinkamena." Her father's voice never rose above a whisper. "You disgraceful wretch." Every hope the 8 year old girl had of being praised dissolved in an instant. Her father took another step. "We feed you. Give you shelter. Care for you. And all we ask is that you do a simple job for us." He raised a rock in the air. "But no." He took aim. "It's too hard for you. You had to rebel. You had to disobey me." He threw the rock as hard as he could. The rock missed her face. This, at least, was a good thing about alcohol. But it still smashed into her arm, blood seeping from a large gash in her arm. As tears leaked from her eyes, she ran. She didn't know where she was going, she just ran. Ran like hell. This was how she had found Ponyville.
Her father had never smiled once, not even during the party. It was all an act. All along, he only cared about finding gold. He had never cared about supposed "rock farming." He wanted more money to buy alcohol and illegal drugs. One thing he did hit on the head was how cold stones were. "Stone cold" was his favorite expression. It was true. His heart was stone cold. A few weeks after she'd run away, she was living in, and working at, Sugarcube Corner. She had received an email on her phone. Come back. I will find you. She didn't know who it was. But she had an idea. If you are who I think you are, no! She hadn't received any more emails until her twelfth birthday. Come back. I swear to god I will find you. You will be sorry you ran away. She was old enough now that she reported this to the police. They had said they had caught her father, and now he was in jail. But every party she threw she feared his coming.
She opened the door of her house on the outside of the town. Sugarcube Corner had been closed, and the Cakes had moved away, so she had to scrape up what little money she had to buy her house. It still felt like home though, and she had done quite a bit since then. She now had a new job- delivering home-made treats to people around town who missed the loved corner cafe. She had more money now. She walked into her kitchen late that night, as the party had been quite long. The 19 year old girl had been quite successful, despite her awful backstory. She pulled off her over shirt, a large baggy sweater with her mark on its side. As she pulled it off, her tight undershirt betrayed her painfully thin body. Her ribs were visible even under the shirt, and, due to its being a camisole, it revealed her arms. Pinkamena's skinny arms were covered in scars. Some were inflicted by her father, some by herself.
Pinkie staggered into the bathroom, looking around, even though no one else lived in her house. She locked the door and opened a long since untouched medicine container. Any other person would have thought she was a drug addict, but upon opening the container, a small blade was revealed. She pulled it out, pressing the blade between her fingers. She brought it down sharply on her wrist. The wound was not deep, but crimson blood seeped out all the same. She made another cut on her other wrist. She dropped the blade back into its case and shoved it into the medicine cabinet. She gasped and tears welled up in her sky blue eyes. Her curly pink hair seemed to flatten or deflate as it falls around her face. Pinkie covered her face in her hands. Who was she? What was wrong with her? Finally, she decided to pull on her sweater again and go for a walk.
Pinkamena wandered through the town, blissfully unaware of the nightmares plaguing her friend. She found herself on the path that led towards Fluttershy's house. For some reason she wanted to see if Fluttershy was home. This was understandable; they were good friends. But this was different. Pinkie shook her head. She just kept walking, not towards the door, of course. Then she heard someone scream from inside. Without even thinking, Pinkie sprinted to the front of the house. She grabbed the spare key from underneath a plant and unlocked the door. She dropped the key on the table, not bothering to lock the door again.
Fluttershy awoke in a sweat. She had just gone through yet another terrible nightmare about her father. She panted, looking around and hyperventilating. Someone was on the stairs. As a figure stepped into the doorway, she screamed, "No! Oh please, God no!" But the voice who responded was familiar, and, much to Fluttershy's surprise, comforting. Pinkie stepped further into the room.
"Okay Flutters. It's fine. Just me." Fluttershy pushed off her covers and stood up. "You okay?" Pinkie asked, concerned. What she had heard from outside frightened her. NO! DAD PLEASE! No... Fluttershy was still scared of her father. After 10 years. "Stormy Flight is in jail." Pinkie added. Fluttershy's eyes grew round with fear. How the hell did Pinkie know about her father?
Pinkie approached Fluttershy apprehensively. When she'd mentioned Stormy Flight, her friend had shot bolt upright, her pupils dilated, but her expression was not fear. It was anger. "Who told you about my father?" She whispered, so quiet you could barely hear her. But Pinkie heard just fine. She also heard her friends voice shake with rage. "WHO TOLD YOU?!" The girl on the bed bellowed when she didn't get a response. Pinkie shook her head and backed away. Fluttershy watched her friend back away and gasped. What was she doing? Pinkie wasn't trying to be mean! "Oh my god... I- I'm so sorry..." She whispered. Pinkie sat on the bed next to her and put an arm over her shoulders.
"No worries." Fluttershy felt her face grow warm as Pinkie put her hand over her shoulders, but she ignored it. She leaned into her friend, giving in to the urge to hug her. Pinkie had calmed her down quicker than she could ever calm herself. So why did her heart beat so fast? What was she so worried about? Then she remembered in 3rd grade when she had liked that one boy... Applejack's older brother, she recalled. She'd felt like this then. But surely she couldn't like Pinkie? Pinkie noticed her friend pull away. "Y'okay?" She asked softly, her eyes widening in concern.
"Fine," Fluttershy responded, "It's just, well, have you ever had a crush on someone you could never be with?" Pinkie giggled.
"You have NO idea!" She laughed. "There was that one guy who was like 2 years older than me, and that popular girl who turned out to be such a brat, and then there's..." Her voice faded.
"Who?" Fluttershy pressed.
"N-no one..."
"C'mon, tell me!"
"Well Flutters, I can't really tell you... "
"Oh... okay. I can keep a secret though!"
"Yeah, I know."
"Then why..." She didn't finish. Was it possible that Pinkie liked... her? No. Not likely. Why would she? Why would anyone?
Pinkie looked at Fluttershy with a mix of concern and amazement that she gave up that easily. But concern took over. "Fluttershy?" She asked.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you might wanna come live at my place? I mean, since you keep freaking out. I could, y'know, help ya out."
"Oh... sure!" Fluttershy blushed and looked away, but readily accepted Pinkie's generous offer. That would help with her nightmares. And something about the prospect of living with Pinkie seemed nice. Things were looking up.
Pinkamena felt like she had a home. For the first time. Even once she had escaped her father, she still did not feel at home. But though she was home, she was still broken. Fluttershy was gone. Apparently to get her animals. Now Pinkie was home alone, and dark thoughts were coursing through her brain. Fluttershy wasn't gonna come back. Who'd come back for a miserable wretch like herself? How could Fluttershy stand her? It tore her up to think that she might love Fluttershy, but she was sure her feelings weren't reciprocated.
She looked out the window. A flock of birds was flying outside, and one flew low enough for her to watch it glide by the window. Pinkie sighed. What it wouldn't be to fly like a bird- free, and never with any problems. To fly free would be perfect. All she'd ever need. Even just once, to feel wind flowing through her hair, and to see the world around her, and to never live with doubt. She envied the birds. Why was she grounded, trapped? She deserved to fly, more then those ungrateful birds. A text from Fluttershy brought her back. Just a reminder- I'll be back in about an hour. Pinkie shook her head. No you won't. No one in this world would notice if she stopped showing up. Why would they care about her? No, Fluttershy wasn't coming back.
The wind on the roof of her house was whipping her flat hair everywhere. She stood on the edge and looked down. Her house was in a place where you could easily die if you fell off the roof. She stared at all the things below her. Maybe for once, she'd get to fly. She pulled out her phone.
"Hi Pinkie... what's up?"
"Goodbye, Fluttershy."
"What? Where are you going?"
"God only knows."
"Pinkie... w-what are y-you doing?"
"Flying..."
"What?"
"I love you Flutters." Pinkie turned the phone off before Fluttershy could ask anymore questions. Tears streaked down her face. She looked out and saw the setting sun. She would wait. She could at least watch her last sunset. Her last moments. She had always thought she'd die alone, in a hospital, with no visitors. She was still alone, save for the birds who seemed to know her plan, who would help her. It would be her first flight... and her last.
Fluttershy's eyes widened at Pinkie's last words. She dropped her bag of pet food and sprinted for the house. She didn't care how crazy she looked, or that her eyes were filled with tears, she only cared about finding Pinkie. She didn't care if she had just wasted good pet food, or that her pale pink hair was going to be incredibly tangled now. She just ran like hell. She had underestimated Pinkamena's depression. Now it might be too late. She slammed her shoulder against the firmly locked door. Pinkie had shut her out.
Pinkie stood there for what seemed like hours, before the last golden rays of sun disappeared. Then she jumped. The wind played with her pink hair, her baggy sweater flew up like when you stand over a fan. She fell back, so she would never see the ground that killed her. The fall seemed to take forever, and all around her, birds flew, and chirruped, convinced to make her only flight the best it could be. She was free. The last thing she ever felt was freedom. She was no longer sad, or worried. She was free. The cold ground seemed to jump at her, eager to claim its victim. Suddenly Pinkie's body slammed into the ground. She felt bones break, but she was never worried. The pain would go away. As she thought this, it all faded. There was blackness. Then there was nothing.
FLuttershy walked around back, her intent being to walk in through the back door. But she fell short. She was frozen. She couldn't move if she wanted to. Tears forced their way even more down her face. Her pale hair fell in front of her eyes. She wanted to scream, to cry, and shout at the world until Pinkie came to comfort her. But Pinkamena Diane Pie... was d- NO! She wouldn't say it. Couldn't believe the broken form in front of her was Pinkie's. Surely it was someone else! But when Fluttershy kneeled beside her, she recognized the beautiful face that would never smile again. She knew Pinkie's flat, deflated hair. Her face was still wet from tears she could no longer shed. Pinkie was... dead. That's it. Fluttershy would never hear her laugh, or go to a party, or taste her sweet cupcakes ever again. She grabbed Pinkie's body and hugged her, trying not to believe it. She set Pinkie down and whispered, "I love you too."
No one in the church noticed the figure in the back. Her gray hood was pulled down so you couldn't see her pale pink hair or sad teal eyes. She sat and listened to the priest, speaking of all the amazing things Pinkie had done. Speaking of her kindness. How hopeful she'd always seemed. How he wished someone could've known. The girl in the back looked down, but her face, and the tears leaking out of her eyes, betrayed her secret. She'd known all along. But she wasn't able to save her friend. It was her fault. Her friend was gone because she couldn't get there in time. She could've stayed, or Pinkie could've come to the market with her. Why did she leave her friend alone? Pinkie would never know. She was loved by so many people. One in particular.
Fluttershy looked at a painting to the right of the stage. She'd always loved it- a picture of 12 angels in heaven. She knew each of them so well, from the many times she sat in the back in that same gray hoodie, hiding from the world. But there was someone else. Fluttershy knew the painting too well. Why was there a 13th angel? You couldn't see the angel's face, but Fluttershy recognized the curly pink hair. Pinkie had found her home at last.
A fallen angel tried to fly with broken wings, and thus she found her home.
Pinkie opened the door beaming, but her mind was elsewhere. How was she to hide her darkest secret? Fluttershy would discover the hidden medicine container eventually. What then? Pinkie shook her head.
"Welcome home!" She said to Fluttershy.
"H-home?"
"Well yeah! I mean, this is your home now."
"B-but, I mean, am I-"
"You're welcome here, if that's what your asking." Seeing Fluttershy shake her head, Pinkie grabbed her friend's hand. "You're safe here too." Fluttershy nodded. Her teal- green eyes showed emotion her voice could never show. She was grateful in ways words could not place.
"This was the first place I ever felt at home." Pinkie added. She put her arm around Fluttershy's shoulders again. Fluttershy felt the blush rising to her face again. Pinkie looked at her again before standing abruptly. "I'm going to the bathroom." She said sharply. Fluttershy nodded. She sat on the couch and looked around. Pinkie had done a great job with the house.
10 minutes had passed. Pinkie still hadn't come out of the bathroom. Fluttershy walked down the hall, looking for the bathroom. It was when she heard the sound of someone quietly crying that she found it. She didn't knock, or even say anything. She just opened the door. Pinkamena was sitting on the floor holding a small blade. And she had already made two parallel cuts on one wrist and was working on the other. Fluttershy gasped, and the knife clattered to the floor as she stood.
"P-please don't hurt yourself!" Fluttershy gasped out, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Why? Not like anyone gives a damn about me."
"That is not true. T-that is- is- that is the fucking opposite of the truth! " The second Fluttershy said this, Pinkie's eyes widened and tears filled her eyes. Before Fluttershy could say a word, Pinkie stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Fluttershy's. Fluttershy's eyes widened and the blush spread across her face. She could feel Pinkie's curls brushing her face. Pinkie's eyes were closed and Flutteshy pulled away seconds later, still tasting Pinkie's lips on her own. Pinkie felt her pull away, but she still felt it. Both girls stared at each other, blushing.
"S-so..." Pinkie whispered, breaking the silence. "I guess now this really is home." Fluttershy alone knew what she meant. Home is where you are safe and feel safe. Home is where you feel loved. Now they had a home.
Fluttershy gasped, hearing the tone in Pinkie's voice. She knew instantly what pinkie was doing, having considered doing it herself before. She sprinted towards the house, disguising the fact that she was sprinting incredibly fast. NO! Her mind was screaming, wishing Pinkie could hear her.
"Goodbye Fluttershy. I love you..." The phone clicked off. God DAMMIT! She cursed herself for not saying she knew what Pinkie was doing. Why had she not said something? ANYTHING?
Pinkie gazed across the cityscape a ways away from her house. Soon she would be part of that sky. The wind played with her hair, teasing her. She was going to die soon. She knew this. The birds flying around nearby knew it. She sighed, noticing how little people recognize their breath. She began to count her breaths. Her last breaths. She stepped to the edge of the roof. Ninety-Eight. Ninety-Nine. One-Hundred. Pinkie leaned back, falling so she never saw the ground. But something stopped her.
"PINKIE PIE!" Suddenly a hand caught her arm and she was being pulled up the side of the house. Fluttershy was frantic, the hold on Pinkie's arm near painful, nails digging into her arm. Pinkie reached up, fully intending to push Flutter's arm away. But she couldn't. Instead, she reached for her other arm. Struggling, Fluttershy managed to pull Pinkie onto the roof. Pinkie stumbled onto the roof, tripping into the other girls arms. Fluttershy pulled her into a hug, then sharply pushed her away. "What." Fluttershy began, her voice sharp, though from pain, not anger. "What. The hell. Was that?! " Pinkie winced at her friends tone.
"You know what I was doing."
"B-but why?"
"I dunno. Why wouldn't you?" Fluttershy felt tears filling her eyes. This wasn't the response she was expecting. Her friends hateful tone hurt more than Pinkie could know.
"Pinkie?" She asked meekly. Her friend nodded. "I- I love you too." Her voice shook. Pinkie stared at her, the full meaning of the thing sinking in. Before Fluttershy could respond, Pinkie jumped forward, closing the distance between the two girls, wrapping her arms around Flutter's neck and pressing her lips against her lover's. Fluttershy wanted to jump in shock, her teal eyes widening. She stilled herself, mentally cursing for being so shocked and shy. She pressed into Pinkie, noticing that the small girl's pink hair had taken on it's usual pouffy appearance. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Pinkie was alive. How was she supposed to live without the small girl's cheer and parties. Not to mention her spirit. Though broken, she was being remade.
