Know That I Love You

I recall, by about the tenth one, I had started counting the doors I randomly gave a shot.

The first room; that one’s hard to remember. A head full of fuzz, and a single door to take. I had stood up, wobbly and gurgly and none too pleased. This thick, silken mass of a carpet cradled me for what I assumed was a while, given the imprint I left in it. Even turning my head to observe the spot nearly lit a fire under my lunch. I had to take a seat after a few seconds of trying to clear my senses, and unconsciously I pulled the thick cush in either hoof to my face, as if to make it a pillow.

Warm, orange light, well, lit the room. I held up an arm to catch some of it, and even the shadow it cast on the carpet looked about as cuddly as a bunny. I snorted at the thought: a bunny? Was I twelve again, or something? I somehow felt at ease with notion, upon reconsideration. A few brainless giggles escaped me.

I raised my arm higher to edge my shadow up to the wall. Since the light was overhead, that would have failed anyways. The walls came to attention, thanks to the little folly. Pitch. Black. I scooched a little closer the the wall to the right of the rather plain-looking wooden door, and pressed my hoof to it.

A clear wall. I could make out motes of dust beyond it, revealed by the warm light above. The surface chilled through my frog to my wrist. Quickly, the appendage snapped back to me, and I pressed it under myself, between that astonishing carpet and my coat, astonishing in its own right.

By rolling to my right to further the pressure, I noticed the back wall of the room. A frame, tall and wide. Wide and tall, a painting filled it out. It was a chair.

Just a chair.

Well, not any ordinary chair.

The chair, oddly-crafted it was. A mockery of some space-age eyesore catching on in Equestria these days, the seat consisted of a half-sphere with a faux leather cushion with in. Legs of blushing rust, three briery horns propped on their tips, held it up. You could find a piece of twisted debris at a carriage wreck that would be able to hang out with such chair legs. Any stubbing incidents would be a nightmare.

Just an empty chair. The thought, honestly, put me on edge. I found myself in an unfamiliar room, ‘livened’ up by an aimless work of art. Who would make it? Who would buy it? I was in one of those parties' house, on their turf.

Naturally, I said ‘fuck it’ and struggled with the door. My physical malaise had passed by then, so overcoming that door was child’s play. I hadn’t quite panicked, but my hooffalls woomphingagainst the carpet created a frantic swing. My ear twitched. It wanted to hear a wet ‘ol ride cymbal, but all it got was fuzzy kicks.  To even ponder such a drum beat was absurd.

The distraction didn’t last. The hallway, I conceded to myself, had no end in sight. The path of red ended at the eye of a needle, entering a level of smallness that tangibly blocked my conception of any path further than that point.

My steps gained a tempo, and my mood evened out. I simply trotted in the absolute silence.

I fretted over some thing before my deliverance into that small room. Did anything exist before now? It tasted like a dream, with a repulsive aftertaste. I felt a tingle in my chest. Some hole tightened with time, where a thorn once made home. That thing had tortured me, buzzed in my ear like a fly. It sapped my energy one moment, then disquieted the next. That thorn stung when I noticed it, and itched when it didn’t matter. I had, had to know it was there. I couldn’t let it go.

Then, this moment of silence. I wished not to speak in this moment. Eventually, my eyes slid shut for the first time since I awoke.

I felt that next door appear to me. My eyes weren’t necessary, nor my hooves. It gave way for me. Dozens of other doors like it surrounded me, cornered me. I spun a lazy spin to take in my situation. The space on the floor was wide, and inviting.

But the doors peered down at me!

The scab in my chest tingled. I couldn’t keep my eyes shut anymore. The itch shot up and down my neck, a griffon’s stranglehold should their claws have been of finely shaved steel. I curled into a ball, focusing on the warmth of the carpet. I rocked, rocked back and forth.

I sobbed.

Even the thought of ignoring my pain made it worse. I put a hoof to my chest, and pressed down as hard as I could. My flesh creased and tore away with ease. I stopped just short of my ribs when the lightheadedness set in. That rib pinched my spine under the pressure, the point of their meeting becoming sensitive to the beat of my heart. The frog of that hoof felt something like a little guppy flopping under it.

I could tear it out to ease the pain. It was just the matter of a few inches. Simple.

If a one-mare stalemate were possible, then that’s what ensued. I held my hoof to the bone, scraping at it a few times to affirm the pinching in my stomach. All the discomfort kept me from backing down completely, oddly enough. With a groan, I had rolled on my back to face the inky black up above. A sourceless light, I had realized, gave the dust in the air any meaning to my eyes. I could see perfectly clear, yet no matter where they searched, my eyes couldn’t find a lamp, a sun, a fire. Nothing.

The warmth made itself perfectly known to my skin, despite that. The bare muscle not under my hoof felt no pain under the warmth. My insides, wrapped up by all my flesh and fur, couldn’t share in the warmth. Experimentally, I lifted my hoof from the wound. The faintest ray of light pierced the thin layer of flesh still left just barely, and touched my heart. My body shook, from loin to shoulders. The almost ethereal, barely present shock of the light was enough to lay me low. Well, lower.

Unconsciously, my bloodied hoof drifted lower on my body, spreading the cool substance on it. Clouds of blood rose from the hole on my chest, as if I were submerged in water. I studied it carefully, pausing my wandering hoof at the last second. No time for distraction.

The blood formed a metallic rose, and in its luster I could see my reflection.

A pony, a mare! She had beautiful blue eyes, yet they were sunken and torched. Her coat, a lovely pink, made fluffy through what likely was a great deal of care. Even more pampered was her mane, a violet dabbed with white. This pony cared a lot about herself, I surmised.

My blood clouded the air even further. The claret bouquet rested on the other side of things. I saw that mare within it, but her reflection was captured by it merely through circumstance. Truly, it awed me far more than that pony, who stared with as much awe as I. A pang of jealousy hit me.

I wanted to turn into something like that, too. To be turned inside out into something so majestic. The rotten heart in my chest cavity begged to be dipped in the light, before it was too late. Before, so too, my blood dripped away like the pretty mare’s.

Before I knew it, my vision blurred. A painless fog seized my head. First my hind legs, then hips to shoulders; a cold wing cradled me and lifted me upward and aggravated the storm behind my eyes. I couldn’t feel even one more thing.

I guessed that, at last, my book had shut. I smirked, imagining the pretty mare applauding at me. I couldn’t conceive of any one else who’d clap for me in this place.

My eyes drifted shut…

And then I fell back down.

I cried out! I cursed, most unladylike. I floundered on the ground, struggling to find my bearings. Most unladylike. Even with these reflexive actions, that thought needled me. I looked up to find the rose, and to my horror, it drifted higher and higher. I reached out to it, but it didn’t respond. The petals fizzled, dried and cracked. Bits and pieces of the foul thing rained down on me, fading away before I could think to scoop any up and fix it. My hooves moved with uncertainty as they grasped the air. Why was the stench so foul? I couldn’t smell a thing earlier, perhaps. I could hardly recall.

I heard a door shut. Just as suddenly, I got my wits about myself. There were countless doors. I was assured of my solitude, so sure before. I didn’t even know anyone else could be here, besides that mare.

Me.

“D-Diamond.” My voice irritated my throat. Desperately dry. “Diamond.”

“Oh? I didn’t think you could hear quite yet.”

The other spoke. I shivered. No one else could be here. No one. Alien dread overcame me. I could remember, so faintly, to have never felt anything so strongly. I needed to show composure in new company, yes. Yes, that was it. Such ridiculous thoughts couldn’t be thought by a normal pony.

A snappy response was necessary. I opened my mouth. “Ah.”

I tried again.

“Aaah.”

The other giggled. “I suppose you can’t remember what words are still. Not quite, anyways. You do remember how to make them, so that’s a good sign! It’s a great sign.”

Muffled steps. They came in threes, a gallop. The other was like me, then. I could see myself in the rose earlier. Maybe, just maybe, I could see the other. I needed to put my eyes on them. Given that I couldn’t see the other where I lay, they must have been behind me.

Behind. Away from my eyes. I needed to… turn around. Sadly, my legs only knew forward. With no other recourse, I rolled over onto my back and craned my head. Clear as day, I saw the other standing a few lengths away, watching me with a playful glint in their eye.

They were nothing like me. A bright green, with strange golden eyes and adorned with a pale grey blazer. Gold… a pleasant thought. Did I like gold before? I filed that one away.

“Oddly enough, ponies like you tend to be the most amusing at this step, Miss Tiara.” The voice; it had high pitch to it. Not so high to obscure the maturity behind it, either. A mare. She moved forward, then broke right to begin pacing a circle around me. “You and your facades. A big machine of lies and concessions. A changeling who’s always the same. You are one thing to one being, then another to the next.” She sniffed. “I could sense your disgust earlier. To be sincere before another pony; even here, you still can’t let that one go.”

I grit my teeth. “Who do you think you are?” I grunted out at her. It came so easily, too. My deep, though feminine voice, proved more pleasant than the other’s to my ear. Hoarse as it was.

The other took a few more steps to land a spot right over my head, and she tilted her head to look down at me. All of the mirth had left her eye in an instant. I didn’t gulp, but the stare unnerved me. Yellow, rather than gold. A nocturnal beast watching its plaything, it had no intention of giving me any meaning or love.

Never again did that mare give me such a look.

“I’m your savior, Diamond. You should show more respect.”

“H’oh? My savior, you say?” I scoffed. I rolled my eyes. Such simple acts returned my nerve to me. “You didn’t do a very good job then if this surrealist’s wet dream is where you brought me. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve… I’ve eaten?”

The other smirked once more when I tapped my chin in thought. “I’m sure your wandering has felt like days, Miss Tiara, but I assure you that you’re in no danger right now. Not from starvation, at least.”

I flipped my mane. Boy, did that feel good. Even when half-baked, I could tell when my glorious locks deserved admiration. “Are you the butler of this shitty hotel, then? You look the part, Miss…”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Lyra. I’m no mere butler, I’ll have you know. I’m the manager of them all at this little 'hotel', and I deemed you worthy of a personal visit. I’m now very certain that ‘good manners’ weren’t how you planned to get yourself back into your father’s life.”

Father. A shard of ice slashed through my neck and shoulders at that word, yet I couldn't comprehend it.

“F-father?”

She waved her hoof, a slow cut to the air. It wasn’t like I could voice any more than I did, so I obeyed. ‘Lyra’ stepped to the side, revealing a small, wooden stool. Dollar store in aesthetic, but it seemed unearthly in its shape and grain, as if someone painstakingly matched, raised and folded to the original defects to somehow make it utterly seamless.

I knew what sat ontop of it. I simple marveled at the little stool to avoid acknowledging it. A huff from my left side; slowly, Lyra moved her right hoof to pick it up.

I all but lunged at her!

“Stop!”

My face met grate. Hard. Almost cutting into my flesh where the grates made contact. I fell back, clutched my head and hissed through my teeth.

Lyra picked up vase. A beautiful red flowers swayed inside it..

My eye shot open. I felt it. Behind five parallel golden lines, she held it.

“They always do that, Miss Tiara,” Lyra said after a fit of chuckling. “Isn’t it something else? They don’t even know what is I’m taking, but they react so, so… instinctively when it’s endangered.”

My ears roared. “What do you mean, endangered? I swear, if you... “ I shot to my hooves, worked my jaw, stepped around nervously. “If you…” I glared down my nose at the smaller mare. I was, at most, a head taller than her, yet she watched me playfully behind her cowardly magic.

“If I what? Drop it?” She looked me dead in the eye. Slowly, her wrist tilted. Panic gripped my mind. I didn’t even move, for fear of causing it to drop sooner. My eyes pleaded with hers, hers staring right through me.

I fell. My throat locked up. I couldn’t breathe! In that split second I charged. Shoulder first, right into her barrier. A resonating snap gave the very next step purpose. I lunged once more! Strong wind sliced through my fur, painless. The gale caught strands of ripped carpet and sent them behind me, keeping my sight clear on the vase.

Just mere inches from the ground. Then, something held me back. The momentum crushed my lungs. Pressure around my torso told me I was caught. Caught by something big. Just as quick as I had moved, it yanked me away.

I cried out! I stretched my arm out at the doomed flower. The thing threw me aside through a cloud of fibers and dust, obscuring the aftermath.

At last, I collided with the transparent walls. My breath completely escaped me, and I coulda sworn my guts did too. I bounced from the wall and plummeted to the floor, face first.

“So it’s agreed, then!” Lyra cried to me.

I groaned. I knew right away that my rose was safe, but that did nothing to ease the pain in my back. Slowly, I looked up at Lyra, and I gasped.

A large shadow loomed behind the mare. Formless. Its outline nearly blended in with the darkness all around. Two carapaced, bone-white appendages reach through their veil of darkness, two wicked talons as white as the rest. Held most delicately in its left was the vase with contents utterly unscuffed. Lyra watched me from the corner of her eye, and glanced to the creature’s right talon. It idly flexed as she hummed. “You almost reached it. That’s quite the rarity, to tell you the truth. I’m sure you will give us a most exquisite game.”

Her horn shone, bright as the sun. I raised an arm to shield my eyes, on reflex, until it faded after a few moments.

Then, I was all alone.

What had I agreed to?

***

Lyra left me to my own devices. I stayed in the ‘atrium’ for a while, calling out her name, cursing; whatever I felt like shouting.

I had no clue which door I came through anymore. Whatever one I decided to take could have been that very door, leading me back to where I began. The prospect seemed tempting, but it was a long shot. I picked a door and ran with it.

The hallways, long and featureless like always, stretched for ages. Every single one. I stayed any thoughts through that first door. Just focused on moving ahead. Not surprisingly, I wound up in another atrium. Exactly the same in every way.

It probably WAS the same one. I couldn’t trust that Lyra for a second. Through the second hallway, I began to think.

And I began to remember.

I remembered my home, and the ground beneath my hooves felt more solid. I remembered my name, and I felt like someone watched me. I remembered friends and faces, and felt like I had done something with my life. More than existing in indescript blackness, anyways. For all I knew, everything that came to me seemed like how it should have been.

Diamond Tiara; a simple mare who lived a simple life. She shared a roof with an eccentric griffon couple, Gregory and Galena. We did everything together, because apparently ‘third wheel’ wasn’t something those bird brains could understand. It weirded me out, as an Equestrian, but I learned to accept it with time.

Up in chilly Vanhoover, an equally simple town. That was home. Anything I could really remember happened around my arrival there, up to now. I didn’t know what ‘now’ was, but I felt spry as always. Certainly not that long.

The mare I was was employed by a bustling bakery, aptly name, well, the Bustling Bakery. She swore to buy enough stock so that she one day could petition a name change, but the folks were nothing but pleasant despite the affront to any sensibility their naming conventions were. It didn’t take long for my teenaged self to get to know all the faces around town, fronting that place.

The mare I was had many friends. They all agreed I was sassy and crude, yet sweet and humble. They never pried about my time before moving to Vanhoover.

That thought crossed my mind at the eighth door, when I bothered to count.

I paused my hoof just before it reached the handle.

My mouth moved on its own. “A-and never come back, you selfish little… little…”

I heard another voice alongside my one. Where I stuttered, it fronted rage. Hatred. I heard other echoes, remnants of a tirade, laced with curses. That one bite still was clear as day.

I gripped the handle as my legs gave out. It was like someone gouged my back with a knife! I retched, coughed. My stomach spasmed, but I had nothing to give. I wanted it to stop. I didn’t want to hear it. I wished it away.

And it went away.

I lay there, panting. Curled up and clutching my stomach, I sobbed once more. That memory faded too quickly me for to understand, but the sheer grossness felt all too familiar.

The mare I was could forget it with a thought.

And I was Diamond Tiara. Her friends often asked what her special talent was, how she got it. I told them I didn’t remember.

And that was all there was to it.

***

By the fourteenth door, I stumbled into a lobby.

Not just any lobby. Wait, it was just any other lobby. The walls were a solid blue with marble texture to them. The carpet no longer warmed my ankles. Still plush, but spare like any normal carpet was. Benches lined the walls, spaces equivalent to their own length between them. Square, gold filigree lent a pattern to the walls, matching with the benches perfectly.

A door clinked shut. I jumped, and may have squeaked. Very quietly, I assure you. I wheeled around to find a pair of automatic doors, suited to an elevator. The meter just above denoted numbers, B, then 1 to 51.

So I wound up the first floor. That is, if I had taken the fucking elevator. I droned in confusion, looking between the sunlit corner down the hall and the elevator. There were no answers to be found, so I hesitantly pressed forward. Sore legs whined for some sort of destination.

I hugged the wall a few meters before the stripe the sun’s light engulfed. My head tilted  and my ear swiveled, reaching for some sign of life.

Humming. Slow, swingy. Spacy, not much rhythm, lost a few times. The mare vocalized a bit.

“Truly, I know,

Oh, truly, I know who you are,

December will bear...]”

The voice went back to vague humming. I heard the sound of bristles on tile, quick strokes. I snorted; what did I have to fear from a cleaning mare? I turned the corner and strutted right down the middle of the hall. A set of turnstiles blocked the way, so I decided to do what came natural. “Who’s over there, huh?! I wanna file a complaint!”

The mare meeped in surprise. I scanned the actual lobby; bright, bright sunlight washed out the blue on the walls, and colored in the ivory floor tiles. Something like incense tinged the air and dim faux-torches studded the walls, otherwise bare. Another hallway opposite of me suggested that another elevator was indeed present. To the right, a wall mostly comprised of glass made up the front doors to this place. Revolving doors: the shit-for-brains’ alternative to actual doors.

On the left, a large desk lined the wall. More turnstiles stood guard on either side, though the right gave enough room for a door, presumably to access the other side of the desk. A mare peeked over said desk. She blinked twice when our eyes met, then lowered the broom held in her magic to rest against the wall.

“A complaint? Was our service not to your standards, Miss Tiara?” she asked, worried.

Immediately, I hunched lower and bared my teeth. “How do you know my name?”

The mare ducked lower behind the desk, only her striking red eyes showing. Definitely evil.

“I-I, I mean, my job is to check in our guests. You’re the only one who on the list left, s-so I made a lucky guess.” She stood up some more and shot me a big smile. “Yay me, right?”

I cocked my head. “Check in? I’m already in, you dingus. Those are the front doors, right?” I said. I pointed them out, and only then did I notice how the bright light outside completely shrouded the outside world. I tried to squint, but still my eyes stung. I pushed my way through the metal bars to get a better look outside.

“You don’t remember coming in then, I take it,” she said. She tapped her chin with the tip of the broom handle. “That’s pretty typical, actually. I can assure you that, while you didn’t use those doors, you are indeed checking in. Right now.”

I glanced back at her a few times during my fruitless venture. No matter how hard I looked, only the shade of pavement showed on the ground. Anywhere else, and there was nothing but searing white.

She cleared her throat, and leaned forward in a half-bow. “My name is Fizzy, Miss Tiara, and I’ll be at your service for your stay while in Limbo. Now, if you’ll--”

“Wait, wait. What did you say?”

“Limbo. You know, realm of the soul, the sweet embrace of death. Didn’t Lyra…” She bit her lip when my confusion didn’t budge from my brow. The broom lazily floated up to her face, and turned sideways.

I pursed my lips. “What are you doing?”

Snap! “I swear, if that mare refuses to explain this one more time! One more fucking time! Why, t-that rude bitch has got some nerve lumping work I’m not qualified for on me just because she can’t pretend to stand some clients for even five minutes!” Spit rained from her mouth and her hooves dug grooves into the tabletop.

Fizzy took a wild swing at the desk. An innocent bell got caught by the broom and took to the air! I hit the deck in no time, and the thing splatted across the wall like a water balloon. Not even time for one last ‘ding’.

“It’s bad enough that I have to do this bookkeeping crap all day, oh no! Now I have to have the recently departed grovel at my hooves, punch me in the face, offer sexual favors, pray to Celestia or whatever when I have a fucking line forming behind them. And then THEY get worked up to, and then I have a right fucking riot on my hands. Good thing these bozos don’t know a thoughtform from their own assholes, or I’d have to lay down a back-alley beatdown to restore order.” She threw the two pieces of the broom to the side with a rather childish grunt of disgust.

I stood back up steadily, brushing my chest off. I stepped towards the huffing mare. “So, you got it rough up in here. I get ya, I get ya. You’re saying that I’m…” I swallowed hard. “That I’m dead, basically.” Her eyes, I realized, weren’t quite normal. Lattices, angular irises that lacked any sort of pupil. The largest face of the gems they appeared to be gave her eyes a vague resemblance to a normal pony’s eye. I could tell she was looking at me.

“Hm?” Fizzy straightened her bow and mane while magicking a new bell from behind the desk. “Sorry. I have a short temper, as you can see. That’s what happens when Our Lady takes your ability to hide emotions.”

I gave her the old deapan. She seemed to catch on.

“Right, right. I’m grateful you’re not flipping out on me, by the way.” Another object floated up to the tabletop. About the size of a tea plate, a metal ring. A fancy design filled it in, in the shape of a cross. “It says on your file that you agreed, but knowing Lyra, you don’t know to what. In good conscience, I can’t brand you with this until you know what you’re getting into.”

I hopped backwards. Mine traitorous tail moved to cover my cutie mark, like some loser I used to know. “B-brand?! You’re outta your fucking mind if you think I’m gonna agree to that!”

She sighed. “Look, it’s not an actual brand. It’s a soul mark that gives you the privileges of a Player by replacing your cutie mark, but our PR decided to call it a ‘brand’. I swear, no one can be honest about their services. They think the working pony won’t get it.”

I tuned out her goddess-forsaken whining. “Player? Privileges? And how do I even know if I’m dead?” I took a seat and crossed my arms. “Prove that, while you’re at it. I don’t think sitting here for an hour to listen to this nonsense will be worth my time if it’s all bullshit.”

She scooched the brand closer to me. Admittedly, her little nose scrunch had me jealous. “If your time in the Neverending Halls wasn’t enough proof, then you must be the sort who thinks reality is all just a dream. Those ponies can burn in Tartarus for all I care.”

“I have free will. Even if this isn’t a dream, I can just say ‘no’ all the same.”

Her eyes darkened. Literally, actually. “Retaining the memory of your last moments is a complimentary service of ours. If you’re so eager to remember what it feels like to have your sternum sticking out of your back, then be my guest.”

I swallowed. “F-fine, let’s just say I buy this. What did I agree to, except not really?”

She leaned forward even more, stretching to get in my face as much as possible with that dead-serious facade. My eyebrows shot up at how apparent her ribs were, but her huff pulled my attention away.

“You agreed to play the Game, Diamond Tiara. What Lyra took from you was your entry fee, and those who win the Game are brought back to life.”

Brought back to life. My face blanched. “Are y-you serious?”

“How real did feel, having your most precious thing ripped away?” Fizzy whispered. I looked away from her, tossing my mane to cover my face up a little. “How real did that feel? Lyra’s report says your will to reclaim it was abnormally strong, and assumed that you had agreed.”

Shivers tingled me from neck to tail. “H-how does a pony get a chance at this game? By being good in life? I-I don’t think--”

“There are exceptions, but anyone gets a shot. If you die from age, illness of heritage, or a deep-seated misfortune not curable by undoing the passage of time, then you’re the exception. Of course, you can simply decline and reclaim that precious thing right now, then pass on to Elysium.”

My heart quickened. “I can get my rose back just by asking for it?”

Once again, she moved the brand closer. “You won’t, most likely.”

“H-how do you know?!” I stomped up to the desk and knocked the brand aside before leveling her with my gaze. “Whatever that thing was isn’t worth risking to get back my worthless life!”

Fizzy propped her head on one hoof. “Do you know what the last thing you were doing before died was?”

My jaw clenched. “I… I know.”

“Our Lady has taken only one thing from you, Diamond Tiara,” Fizzy spoke. She held a hoof to her mouth, eyes searching. “It’s almost poetic, really...”

My jaw trembled.

“Your body.”

And that’s all it took. A tear, a small bead of a tear, dripped from the corner of my eye. I wanted to bawl, to scream. A hole formed in my chest, stealing all the air and life from me. I tilted forward, fell into the desk. With my faced pressed on it, it felt almost like another pony. I put both forehooves to the wood, and snuggled it.

I laughed.

“Oh, Fizzy. You don’t know how happy that makes me.

“Of course I agree.”