Author's Note
This covers suicide and self-harming. If you ever have thoughts about killing or hurting yourself, please contact your local suicide hotline (I don't have time to find them all -_-.
The Call
The Call
It was 1 A.M. My last customer had drunkenly stumbled through the doors of the tavern, and I was left alone with a bunch of tipped over stools, a cider-soaked pool table, and a jukebox, playing 'What's New, Pussycat?' for the 5th time in a row. The array of personalities I get to see in this bar makes me thankful I brought this place. I start wiping the tables when a call comes through on the phone behind the bar. I thought it was odd. No one ever calls the bar after hours, unless it's to see if a family member has passed out across one of the tables. I decided to pick it up just in case something had gone wrong on someone's way home, and they've gone on an alcohol-fueled rampage across Ponyville.
"Hello?" The voice was a mare's, Cool, Alluring, Regal of sorts. Posh, I think the world is. But the most intriguing thing about her voice, was how…familiar it sounded.
"Hello, can I help you?" I responded.
"This is…This is the suicide hotline, yes?". I was brought back by her response, to the point that I didn't know what to say. "Umm..hello?". I quickly regained my senses.
"No..No, it's not," I tell her. I feel obligated to help her, but I don't know how. I don't know what sort of mental state she's in.
"Oh…I see." She whispered, her voice growing ever more depressing. "Yes, this is clear a sign that I should not have called…it was my mistake. I will hang up now.". I know I need to keep her on the line, try to convince her not to kill herself, because, despite my hopes, it's the truth.
"Wait, you aren't going to hurt yourself, are you?" I asked.
"Why…Why would you care? It's is not like you know me on a personal level" She sobbed. I can't help but feel I know her. "There is no one who cares about me. No one who loves me.
It does not matter.". I need to say something
"You do to me. I love you.". Really, Crimson? That's what you said? Screw you and your hopeless romantic-ness.
"Huh?". Good one Crimson, you've fucked it up now. "Do…Do you really mean that?" She inquiries. Maybe I haven't fucked it up then? Can I save her? "You really love me?". I need to blurt out whatever nonsense I need to keep her on my side.
"I…". She stutters. "I…want to see you" Again, I'm blown back.
"Excuse me, mam?". I need to know if she's serious. This could just be her being as desperate as I once was.
"Please, come see me damoiseau.". I have NO idea what that means, but she seems to be on my side. She carries on talking. "I need to know who you are. But first, tell me, what is your name? Who are you? Tell me who you are.". I don't know what to say. Do I help her? Maybe I should go, but how far do I risk my own life to save one? It's a stupid decision, but…..
"My name is Crimson Blade".
It's pitch black. No lights, whatsoever. But the address I was given leads to some sort of fancy, but at the same time, rundown shop, separated from the town square. It looks like it was meant to be bright and cheerful, but the broken windows show a different picture. I was told knock at the back door, so maybe it's just the back of this place that's run down. But even then, it seemed weird that she told me this. I knock on the door. It's got to be at least 1:45, and I'm starting to get tired, but I need to know who this is. And why she is like this. The door opens. A mare appeared in the shadows, cloaked in ruby red.
"You really came." She whispered, removing her cloak's hood with a purple wisp of magic and revealing her face. I know who it is instant. "It's been a while, darling.".
Rarity.
I knew Rarity personally before she grew into a fashion megastar. We went to Ponyville Schoolhouse together. She was my only friend I had there. We played together. We worked together. We did everything together. I remember the outfits she made for the play. The one where she got her Cutie Mark. I still don't believe that story with the rock, but I don't admire the beauty those costumes had. I still remember the way she showed everyone her flank. Those 3 diamonds on the side of her butt were shoved into everyone's faces. Looking back, I'm pretty sure I started at Rarity's ass for at least 10 seconds. I…may have had a slight crush on her…maybe.
But then, she left after she got her Cutie Mark. She found Applejack...and then Fluttershy...and then Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight, eventually. With every pony she met, I became more irrelevant. But the more I think about it, the less I blame her. She has saved the world many a time, and she wouldn't have done it without those ponies.
"Darling? Are you okay?" Rarity questioned. I've realized that I've gone into a shock trance, completely ignoring Rarity. So after a personal reunion with a former friend, I completely blank out. Good one, Crimson.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Rarity. It's just.…I'm astounded at how long it's been. 14 moons, isn't it?". I want to say something else, but she envelopes me in a hug before I do. I feel obligated to hug her back, as a single tear runs down my face.
"14 moons…I can't believe it either.". She pulls back, and I can see her eyes are red, sore even. I can tell she's been crying pretty intensively. "Please, come in."
She leads me up the stairs of what is now recognizable as her boutique. It made sense why she didn't want me to go round the front: Being a massive star now, her every move is being watched, and me being what the press would call a 'commoner', would set a bad image for her. And I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to compromise her success.
Rarity sits me down on her bed, away from the sleeping Opalescence. Silk, I should have guessed.
"Can I fetch you anything? A bite to eat, a glass to drink?" She offered, with a genuine look of concern, which quickly turned to a flirty smirk. "If you're cold, I can warm you up.". I don't see how she can flirt with me after trying to call a suicide line nearly an hour ago. But why? I need to know. It just seemed so out of character.
"No thanks, Rarity, But I need to say something".
"Anything, darling."
"I don't want you to kill yourself."
Rarity frowns then start to laugh. She trots over to me, gleefully. It was just…weird how she changed.
"Darling, as long as you're with me, that thought will be the farthest thing from my mind.". If it weren't for the smile and the giggling, I'd be more reassured than worried.
She begins to lean towards me, leaning in for a kiss almost. No, she was.
"Not so fast. We've only just met for the 1st time in 14 moons, and you want to kiss me?". I instantly regretted my words, remembering I'm trying to stop her from killing herself. But no, she just smiles and stares.
"Very well. As you wish, Dearie." She sits next to me on the silk covers. I go to say something, but a hoof covers my mouth. "Shh, sweetie. Enjoy the moment…"
We sit there, staring at each other. Me, trying to look for a sign this is the same Rarity I knew. And Rarity now fixated with a slutty gaze. She moves in closer to my ear.
"There's do much I want to do with you. So much I want to know about you. I want to hear everything about you.". I'm creeped out now. This is not the same pony I knew beforehand. But something clicks in me. I can turn this into an opportunity to get her help.
"Ok, I'll oblige. But call the suicide hotline, First". She moves back. Her smile instantly drops. She hopped off the bed, and slowly trotted to the window, admiring the beauty of the moon.
"So it's about that?" She asks, averting her gaze from the moon. She turns to look straight at me.
"The reason you said you love me, the reason you're acting like you care…You want me to call the hotline - to pawn me off to someone else." I need to be completely honest with her to get through to her.
"I don’t know how to help you. They can". Her eyes stare at me with crazy intent. She then sighs…
"Fine, I will" She announces, defeated. "But I would like my privacy.". Oh, I should have expected that. I can't trust her alone in here. I know what will happen.
"I don't trust you."
"You would be right to not trust me.". She agrees, hiding a smirk as she trots her way across the carpet and sits back on the bed. She sets her right hoof on the other side of the bed, next to my hip. She leans forward again, this time, enough for you to feel her breath. She utters some words into my ear
"You don't know what kind of a mare I am…Or just how hungry I am...I want to eat you up, darling…". I'm terrified inside. Because she right. I don't know her anymore. But I need to be strong.
"You don't scare me." I force myself to say. Rarity giggles again.
"But I should." She mutters, pressing her mouth against mine...It's a soft, warm kiss. Until her tongue flits with my lower lip. I can't take this anymore. I do what I have to.
I slap her…
Rarity falls back onto the silk covers, gasping for air.
"You….y…you slapped me!". Yeah. I hit a mare. More importantly, I hit one of the Elements of Harmony. But that's not I'm worried about. I'm worried about the cut, now visible around her eyes. Was that slap really that hard? It couldn't have been. But before I say anything else, my question is answered when I look down at my hooves. White face paint covers my right hoof. I look up. Rarity is on all 4 hooves, crouched on the silk bed-sheets, now creased completely. She is ready to pounce.
"Rarity, please. You need help." She isn't listening. She's just charging up. She'll release this bound-up energy and anger from self-harming she's been holding in. All the sadness and depression; Anger for Society's cruel unforgiving nature. It makes sense: She is insane. And she needs help. I don't know what's came over her, but she is not the pony I knew before.
"I thought you were my friend" She screamed. "I TRUSTED YOU! YOU WERE MY FRIEND!". Her emotion swaps from surprise to anger. "I DON'T NEED HELP. YOU NEED TO DIE!".
She pounces at me. I swing my hoof in mid-air, hoping to land something. Instead, she dives onto my chest, and catches my hoof in a light grasp, pinned against the floor. Her spare hoof continually strikes my face, over and over. I can feel the blood dripping down my face as she doesn't let up. Then, she stops momentarily.
"So, you want to play, love?" She questioned. I knew I needed to stop her. This stoppage in her attack is what I need to capitalize. I throw my full weight at her, shoving her neck down against the side of the bed.
"Ngh…" She grunts, trying to wriggle out of my hold. I bite and pull her messed-up mane and even at her blood-stained coat. I don't let go as she screams in agony.
"Haha…you win.". I stop with the hair. "Now what, kitten?". I pause. I look in the mirror propped on the bedside desk. My face is covered in a Crimson liquid. Ironic, I know. Cuts above my eyes, mouth and one straight through my cheek are bleeding profusely. Anywhere not covered in blood is covered in the white body paint that Rarity used to cover her self-induced wounds. Then I turn to her. Nearly all of her Body is covered in dry cuts, none from my hooves, though, except the cut, mildly pouring out blood on the back of her neck. Nowhere near the mare, I saw 14 moons ago. I look down to the floor in thought. There's only one thing I can do.
"I'm calling the police.".
"You will do no such thing, you ruffian!". She escapes my grasp and hits me square in the balls. Was kinda hoping I'd use those today if I haven't had ran into a psychotic Element of Harmony. While I'm writhing in pain, I see Rarity talking to herself, wildly, trying to find something, anything, to finish me off with. I try to stand and fight through the pain, but barely make it to the stool at her desk to support myself...
The stool…
I grab the stool in my front hooves, knowing I need to finish her. I swing…
And it hits her square in the back of the head. I look at the prone body in my presence. And I swing again.
And again…
And again…
And again…
And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again, And again...
And…I stop...
The back of this…corpse is red, either with blood, bruises or muscles. If it's not red, it's white. White with bone. I hear hoof-steps come up the stairs as I look upon my canvas, now painted to perfection. I turn, expecting to see her sister, Sweetie Belle. Instead, this pony is white, with a white and gray mane. His jacket is Black, and his eyes, red like…Rarity. I know him. But I don't care what he looks like. His hat tells all the story: Equestrian Police Department.
So now everyone believes I killed the Element of Generosity. I've been labeled as 'Criminally Insane', bit if anything, Rarity was the Crazy one. I'm told the Tavern was seized by the police for evidence, and when they didn't find any…well, let's just say Berry Bunch will probably be the next person to go insane.
So now, I'm stuck in this maximum security prison cell in Canterlot. The cell is no bigger than a King size bed; No taller than 7 feet. 4 Concrete walls, some shelves, a toilet and a Beds. My only connection to the outside world is a small window in the wall. Well, here's to the next 100 moons, Crimson.
Looking back, this entire thing is…well, funny. I'm called by a depressed, suicidal pony, only to kill her an hour later. I gave her what she wanted. But at the same time, I may have just screwed up Equestria's entire fate. Ah well, why should I care? I'm not gonna be out there anytime soon.
But just then, I hear a voice. The voice was a mare's, Cool, Alluring, Regal of sorts. Posh, I think the world is. But the most intriguing thing about her voice, was how…familiar it sounded. I look up. The pony I see is covered in scars and scratches, on top of bruises and bite marks. What was once white coat, now a light pink, and her mane, while styled perfectly, is torn in places. I don't see a pony. I see a monster.
"It's been a while…darling…"
