Curiosity killed the Cat.

“Tell me your name.” The pony in the suit said across from the table.

“You already know it.” The pony in the orange jumpsuit muttered. He had cuffs around his hooves. It was silent for a while before the anypony made any movements.

“I wanted to know if you knew who you are. Don’t worry, you don’t have to answer. You can call me whatever you want to.” The pony in the orange jumpsuit never made any movements. The only indication of him still living was the slow breathing.

“Can you tell me… what did you do?” The pony in the suit just crossed his arms and leaned onto the table, waiting for an answer.

Not long after, the captive pony answered back in calm, soothing tone. “What did I do? You tell me; after all, you are the ones who stalk me.” The pony in the suit just nodded slightly, pulling out papers from under the table.

“According to this, you abducted, killed, slaughtered and brainwashed ponies. Is that correct?” No answer came from the pony, only silence. The pony was playing a game, a game that was captivating.

“How do you feel?” The first reply was a stare. Nothing seemed to make this pony tick. Nothing seemed to make him realise who, or what he was. The therapist began to get worried as the silence grew louder. He kept his status and tried to persuade the pony to talk.

Just as the therapist was about to talk, he was stopped by the sudden movement that the prisoner made. It was a swift upwards haul of an arm that showed the sign that he wanted to talk first. “Emotions… they hurt us all more than they benefit. Nothing like a simple taunt to get you turned on. But you wouldn’t know that feeling would you, all you do is sit in this captivated shit hole that gives you that sense of importance that keeps you alive and healthy. Knowing that this is all make believe and that you can return back to your wife and kids, waiting for the inevitable truth that one way or another… you’re going to die.”

The therapist was dumb struck. He knew what the pony was talking about and how it was all true. Nothing hit the therapist like that before; it burned to know that he was already outplayed within the first sentence that the pony spoke. Manipulation was a hard thing to master, not even the therapist saw anything like this before. He spoke slowly. “And how do you know this?”

The prisoner just smirked and tapped his chest. “Emotions are just another way of feeling something other than pain and sorrow. The only true emotions you feel are the ones that are manipulated by other ponies. The ones you love are just a pawn in your life cycle that slowly emerges from the everlasting darkness that surrounded your miserable life. I have learned something over the years I’ve been alive, something you could never master. I play by my own rules, but, I never made these rules. They are apart of my own vicious cycle that keeps me going, it’s all a part of the game that we play. You are a game piece in my world.” Again, the therapist was stunned at how this pony was spewing out knowledge like it was an everyday conversation. It scared him.

The therapist got off of his chair and took a folder with him; he trotted up next to the pony and placed it on the table in front of him. “If emotions are just pain and sorrow, then how come we can feel other emotions?” The pony picked up the folder and threw it across the room, only getting a gaze from the therapist back.

“It’s all an illusion. We’re all blinded by the one thing that keeps us alive. The brain keeps you feeling different emotions because you are not the host of this body. No one is more alive than the ones who have ended some lives themselves. This game is a constant struggle between curiosity and greed. The balance is way off the charts, one of which is the constant use of sex, drugs and alcohol that holds a sign in our face. That sign points towards the everlasting truth of life that only someone can see for their last seconds here.” The therapist trotted over to his chair and sat down again. He crossed his arms slowly, trying not to show his discomfort.

“Are you sure about that?” The prisoner growled at being called a liar.

“Yes, I am…. Seduction is something we all experience; everypony just expects to be in charge of themselves. The seeming sense of control is only a band of pain and regret that once roamed free around you, only to be blinded by curiosity and greed. Everything adds up to one possible direction, that direction you choose to go in. The answer to all our problems is the whole thing that your brain is trying to point you towards, but you are too blinded by the one thing that seems to be ‘keeping you alive’. That’s all a lie that you invoke on yourselves, nothing is more stress inducing than the one thing that you’ve been pointed towards.” The prisoner stood up and pointed at the therapist. “Your constant struggle of emotions always temper with your own feelings that carry you towards your death. We will all die, knowing that we have seduced enough people for it to become a sexual thrill towards your mental capacity that never fucking works anymore.” The prisoner sat down. “I’m not a killer… curiosity is…”

The therapist’s heart froze; he was struck by that lecture, almost dumb founded again.

The prisoner smiled and crossed his arms and legs… waiting.

Not long after, the doctor opened his mouth to talk, only freezing again. He fell limp and only one question lurked in his brain.

“Tell me about your game”