Chapter Five: Unhappy Girl

As Pinkie Pie returned to Sugar Cube Corner she tried to look as casual as possible, but couldn’t help carrying herself as if she was lifting a heavy load. The scar that ran diagonally across her face showed her physical suffering to the whole town and her deflated, straight hair was known to be a sign that the element of laughter had been taken by a strange mood. Every now and then a pony would approach her with questions and ignorant reassurance. Each time Pinkie would respond with “No time to chat, sorry!” along with a forced smile and wave. She felt naked and exposed; it seemed every pony in Ponyville could read her emotions right off her face, as if they could see into her mind. Feeling powerless against the piercing gazes of her friends, she quickened her pace to escape the relentlessly questioning eyes of the town.

When she finally arrived at Sugar Cube corner, the pink pony tried to stealthily move up to her room before the Cakes had a chance to interrogate her. She saw the stairs up to her room as an escape. If she could reach that isolated sanctuary, she would be safe from the insufferable questioning of other ponies. With mere feet before the stair case, the wrecked mare heard Mrs Cake call from behind her “Pinkie, mind if we have a word?”

Unable to think of a reasonable excuse to turn her employer and landlord down, she replied “Sure thing, Mrs C!” with unconvincing, forced enthusiasm.

Mrs Cake paused to swallow deeply before continuing in a caring tone, “Pinkie, is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Umm... nope! Well, it’s been great chatting with you. I won’t take up any more of your time,” she smiled widely.

“Hold it, Pinkie,” Mrs Cake said before the pink pony had a chance to retreat upstairs, “We- err- you don’t look so good. How are you feeling?”

“Just fine, thanks Mrs Cake!”

Mrs Cake’s eyes narrowed in concern and she briefly bit her lip before continuing, “We got a letter from Celestia-“

“Oh, of course. Twilight must’ve sent one of her letters to her beloved mentor,” Pinkie’s smile disappeared and her face darkened tremendously as she interrupted, “and then the Princess told you all about it. That wasn’t her call to make. I mean, she can do what she wants. Duh, she’s the princess. But she had no right to...” Pinkie trailed off, realising that she was skirting on the edge of treason.

Mrs Cake took a few steps towards her employee and replied “The princess wants what’s best for you. So do we. We care about you, Pinkie. You’re like a daughter to us.”

“This must be really eating you up on the inside, Pinkie,” Mr Cake called as he entered from the back room, “We’re real good listeners. Talk to us. Let all the unhappiness out.”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Pinkie replied as every trace of joy and innocence left her face and voice, leaving stern sincerity.

“Look, we know Fluttershy was a very dear friend of yours,” Mrs Cake said, disregarding Pinkie’s statement, “but it’s no good to just bottle up all your boo-hoos. We’ve all lost someone special to us at some stage before. We can help you through this, Pinkie.”

“Your scars will heal by themselves, but every pony needs a helping hoof to work their way through times like this,” added Mr Cake.

The pink pony narrowed her eyes with incredulity as she asked “So, you think you’ve been through something like what happened to me in the tunnels?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Mrs Cake, mistaking Pinkie’s disbelief for genuine interest, “Most ponies our age have seen a loved one leave us. I, for example, was standing by my father’s death bed when he passed.”

“And you think that compares to what happened to me?”

“Well, I suppose since you weren’t related to Fluttershy it might be a bit different.”

Pinkie was dumbfounded. She stared at Mrs Cake for a few minutes, trying to digest what she had told her. She had an overwhelming urge to yell at her employer; to grab her by the mane and shake her, screaming “You have no idea what you’re talking about! I went through Tartarus and back in those tunnels, and when I finally emerged I saw one of my best friends had been ripped apart by the dogs. The most gentle, kind pony I’ve ever met was brutally killed, just like that,” but the words never reached her lips. She continued to stare in stunned silence, which was probably in her best interests. Berating your landlord and employer isn’t generally a good idea.

Mr Cake eventually broke the quiet. “Oh, and don’t blame yourself about it, Pinkie. Way I read Celestia’s letter, seems there was nothing you could do about it. Besides, by the looks of you, I’d say you put up a hay of a fight! I’ve had a few scuffles myself in my younger days, believe it or not. Just remember, you did the best you could under the circumstances. Hindsight is 20-20, and your war wounds will heal up in time,” He said with a slight smile.
“Wow-“Pinkie began before checking herself, recovering her chain of thought and continuing, “Ok, thanks for all the, er, help. Mind if I get a bit of rest? I’m still tired from my... scuffle.”
“Oh, of course, go right ahead sweetheart!” Mrs Cake replied warmly.

Pinkie stared at the Cake couple for a moment, hiding her anger behind an unemotional face. Normally, she would have no qualms vocally and mindlessly expressing her thoughts. It just didn’t seem right to do that now. She was dealing with ponies who had no idea what they were talking about, but insisted on bringing up a sensitive topic with bad memories attached to it. How could she possibly show them how wrong they were? With an exasperated snort she made her way to her room.

The pink pony wept softly as she pondered her situation. Was the rest of her life going to be like this? Would ponies always be acting like they understood what she’d been through? Pinkie knew she’d never be at peace if she was constantly reminded of what happened in the tunnels. She wanted to move on, but evidently no pony would let her. The false empathies of the Cakes brought back the pure rage she felt in the tunnels. She uselessly thrashed her forelegs against her pillow with all her might in frustration. If only they could understand what she’d been through. Their sympathies wouldn’t seem so hollow then.

Continuing her frantic assault, the troubled young mare imagined everyone she wanted to hurt in the pillow’s position. The element of laughter forced herself to see diamond dogs in place of the cushion, imagining the feeling of their bodies going limp under her blows. She saw Mrs Cake finally understanding what she had been through, cowering in fear as the terror flashed in her eyes. She saw all the ponies who had questioned her, pushed her down, and treated her as weak. She saw them understanding her pain. Pinkie took great joy in the fantasy of asserting her dominance over them. Her hair suddenly inflated back into its original wild, frizzy state. A wide smile spread across her face as she felt the power surging through her body. The pink pony was back with renewed vigour and a plan to take control of her life.