Why the hay did I let myself get so drunk? I wondered to myself, staggering home after a long night at the bar. I could barely see straight, objects and colors blurred together, and there was a light pounding in my head that I knew was gonna get worse. I stared at my hooves as I picked my way down the dark streets; the white of my own coat was the only thing that I could marginally keep in focus.

I had a hard time figuring out what street was which, I hoped I was on the right track. The street signs were difficult to see in the darkness anyway, but in my inebriated state, they were impossible to read. I groaned. Octy’s gonna let me have it when I finally get home… A sudden pain in my head made me stop short, wincing and waiting for it to fade.

…Wait. Why was I out here again?

Disoriented, I tried to get my bearings, but it was too dark to see anything. Where was I? What was going on? How did I get here? Panic rose in me, along with a fair amount of bile. I tried my best to not throw up. Why was I so nauseous? I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like that. Wait, did I? Hold on…

My eyes snapped wide open as I realized where I was. I was on the battlefield. Sure enough, the darkness cleared somewhat, revealing a scene I never wanted to be in, yet couldn’t avoid. Blood tainted the dusty, desolate ground, puddles of crimson surrounding fallen ponies. I realized in horror that I was holding a gun with my magic, the barrel leaking a few last wisps of smoke. It’d just been used… I looked at the still-twitching corpses around me.

No… No!

I was a murderer. My hooves would never come clean. Never. I would have bloodstains there for eternity…

The draft chose me when we went to war, I didn’t have a choice one way or another. They sent me to learn how to kill, then gave me a gun and put me on the front lines. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but when the enemy showed up, they had no such qualms about using their guns. I had to act to keep myself alive.

But the corpses around me… yes, they had guns. Yes, they were the enemy. And, yes, they would have killed me had I not killed them.

…And yet not a single one of them looked a day older than eight years old.

War was brutal, I knew that. But this… these corpses, these foals, this was wrong. And I was the one that ended their lives.

My magic fizzled out, the gun clattered to the ground. I stared at one colt whose eyes were open and glassy. They were beyond bloodshot, glazed over. Empty. Horror gripped me as I realized they’d been hopped up on high doses of drugs before they were sent out here.

I sensed someone coming at me at a high rate of speed, and I whirled around. A dark grey pony with the trademark mask of the enemy was coming straight for me. I quickly shot off a bolt of magic, hitting the Earth Pony’s gun and knocking it to the side. I had no time to grab my own; I reared back and slammed my hooves forward to grapple with my foe. I slugged them in the face with my hooves, fighting as hard as I could. But Earth Ponies are stronger, and I was forced back. Panicking for my life, I activated a spell I’d made sure to master before I came out to this Celestia-forsaken wasteland.

Time slowed to a crawl. I moved as fast as I could, taking down the foe as efficiently as I could. The spell only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to get an advantage. I pinned the pony to the ground, then slammed my hooves into them, over and over, trying to end them before they regained their strength and ended me.

My hooves dug into the tender skin of their face. Dark bruises appeared as I broke blood vessels, and I thought I heard a cracking sound from an especially hard blow to the nose. I had to keep going. I was the weaker, I had to keep going or they would overwhelm me, I had to-

A stray punch tugged at the cloth that masked the pony on the ground below me. It fell away, and my hoof stopped dead in midair as I saw their face for the first time.

“…Octavia?!”

My head suddenly flared with pain and I held my head, falling on my side. When I opened my eyes, the battlefield was gone. The corpses were gone.

Octavia was not.

That beautiful, wonderful mare, the best thing that ever happened to me, was lying on the ground. Blood pooled around her, dripping slowly from various cuts and wounds. I stared in horror as she looked straight at me, one eye swollen shut.

“…Vinyl…” she rasped, barely more than a whisper. I couldn’t respond, couldn’t move. The horror of what I had done anchored me to that spot like my hooves were nailed to the ground.

“…Why?” she sobbed, barely able to speak, her lips bleeding and cracked.

Revulsion overtook my shock, and bile rose up in me. I had to turn to the side for a few moments. My mouth and nose stung as the acidic stuff came out, my stomach heaving until there was nothing left.

I spit what I could out, then I forced myself to take action. “Help!” I screamed. “Somepony, please, help!”

I must have been near some kind of house, because lights flicked on, and a door burst open. “What’s going on?” a stallion asked, his horn lighting up the darkness. He stopped short in shock as he saw Octavia. “What- What happened?”

I couldn’t answer that. I couldn’t. “Please, you’ve got to help her! Please, help!” I begged, tears running down my face.

Looking at me, both frightened and wary, he nodded sharply, then encased Octavia in an amber-colored glow. He sprinted off in the direction of Canterlot General.

I watched him go, but I couldn’t bring myself to follow. How could I? I caused this, I thought.

I lay on the ground, weeping into my hooves. The cold night air surrounded me, but I paid it no mind.

The nightmares of my past had come to destroy my present.

Author's Note

I got this idea in the middle of the night (well, morning, ish. 2:30-3 AM) and it just kind of sat there and yelled at me until I wrote it. I'mma see if I can get some better art commissioned for it.