The slamming door, and the angry words still reverberated through her whole body, echoing in her brain.

What just happened?

Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she gripped the strap of her backpack, her fingers numb. Her stomach turned again, and she felt the urge to vomit. Though, through the pain and dizziness, she knew what she wanted to do most right now. Run. Just run. But she couldn't, there was nowhere to go. Sweetie stood within the fence around the Apple farm, and though the gate was open, she couldn't bring herself to leave. She had to turn back, she had to try again. Maybe there was a way to fix this.

She slipped the bag from her shoulder and let it drop to the ground, where it landed in the dirt. The zipper was undone, and a few books slipped out. Her diary, and her sketchbook. She fell to her knees, picking them up and flipping through the pages, doing anything to escape her mind. The soft paper felt brittle and rough in her fingers, but what bothered her more was the contents of the diary itself. She didn't even have to read the words, the pages were familiar enough to bring back memories and emotions from years ago, including a few lines that made Sweetie feel happy, or at least hopeful. Of course, the ones about Apple Bloom.

She flipped through the sketchbook, finding drawing after drawing of her crush. Over and over again. Her throat caught as she realized, it wasn't going to happen. After what Granny Smith had said, Sweetie would rarely even see Apple Bloom. Even as a friend.

Her hands caressed the pictures, but an anger pulled at her heart. Apple Bloom was the last person she cared about, and now they would barely remain friends.

A dull whisper pierced her mind like a dagger.

“Ah don' want you 'round Bloom without that Scootahoot with ya, ya hear?!”

With how absent from their lives Scootaloo was, they wouldn't get to see each other almost at all.

Her fist clenched, the tension building up and tightening the muscles in her entire arm. The corner of the page in her hands crumpled, and she looked at the most recent addition to the book. The drawing of Apple Bloom sitting in the clubhouse. The thing that was there at the start of all this.

Blood pounded in her head as she mentally screamed at herself for doing something so stupid, ruining it all in such a brief moment of ecstasy.

In a flash of pain, Sweetie Belle tore the page from the book. The ripping sound was crisp, and it felt perfect, sending tingles of satisfaction down her back. So she didn't stop. Page after page was torn from the binding, fluttering to the ground, until the book was empty. A spine and a pile of papers were all that was left of years of hard work.

Anger turned to guilt, then to gut-wrenching despair. Her hands stung; the sharp edges of the fine paper had cut deep into her hands during her frenzy. Her fingers dripped with blood, the crimson drops staining the pages.

But staring at the mess on the ground wasn't good enough, so she resumed tearing, this time at her diary. Page after page of meaningless words from the past flew from her hands. Garbage, trash, waste of time. Entries about how she felt, what she hoped for, and what had happened in the past few years. The emotion within the words felt dead to her now, as dead as the wood the words were written on.

Her pain stopped, and her hands halted when she reached the few dozen blank pages at the back of the diary. As much as she hated the thing, it was still apart of her. A gift from her parents.

So she left the last few pages within the binding, and held it close to her heart, weeping. How could she have ruined everything?

Sweetie picked up the sketches and diary entries from the dirt, holding them in her bloodied hands.

She couldn't sit still, she had to go. She had to run from it all, hopefully waking up in her bed. She hoped with her entire soul this was all was just another sick nightmare.

Sweetie got to her feet, turning to leave. Though, she tripped over a wicker basket. The chicken coops were nearby, so the basket must have been for collecting eggs.

An idea came to her, and she picked up the basket, stuffing it with her paper, even throwing the sketchbook binding in with it all. But the diary, with the few dozen pages it had left, she threw in her bag.

Sweetie Belle walked back to the Apple's house, and knelt at the door, placing the basket at the doorstep. Maybe Apple Bloom would find it, and know just how much Sweetie loved her. Just maybe.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she left the farm, picking up her backpack on the way out. Walking in the streets, a few tears still fell from her cheeks as she thought about the past year.

She thought about her parents, and her pace quickened.

She thought about her sister- no, her real mother. Her walk turned to a jog.

She thought about her nightmares, and a burst of adrenaline pounded in her veins.

She thought about Apple Bloom, about Granny Smith. She broke into a run, the almost empty bag slung over her shoulder, her hair trailing behind her.

Where she was running, Sweetie didn't know. Just away, as far away as she could get. Anywhere but here. Here there was hurt. Pain after pain had pushed her to do this, and she had broken. Every inch she put between herself, the Boutique, and the Apple Farm made her feel free, liberated her. The intense burning in her chest and legs was enough to make her want to quit, but she needed to get further. So Sweetie ran and ran for what felt like hours until she neared the edge of the town.

A whistle blew, startling her. She was near the train station, and few of the steam engines were being boarded at this very moment.

Away, those trains are going away from here. An escape.

She skidded to a halt at a ticket stand, panting for breath, her muscles aching. Her sides felt like they had been torn at the seams, and her gut was ready to wretch. In fact, that's just what she ended up doing. Something tickled her throat, and she coughed until she triggered a gag reflex, vomiting everything out on the train station's deck.

“Dear Celestia, are you alright?!” The man at the stand asked in a thick accent which she didn't quite recognize.

Shit, I don't have any money. Wait...

Sweetie Belle dug into her pockets with her hands, and to her surprise found an assortment of coins and bills, -change from when she'd been out with the other crusaders, or something- along with a folded poster.

“I- I need a ticket for that train... Please.” Sweetie slammed the money on the counter, disregarding his question.

The man was slightly taken aback, his concerned attitude appropriate for the situation. Approached by a young girl that seems to have run all the way from AppleLoosa, who promptly vomits all over ground before desperately demanding a ticket to who-knows-where.

“Now hold on for one second, Ma'am, is something wrong?”

“What? No, I just-...” Though, she couldn't think of a reasonable excuse for such circumstances. “Just take the money!”

“You're hands are coated in blood.”

The train whistled again, last chance to board before departure.

“I cut myself pretty bad, and I'm late for my train, I had to run all the way here!”

Something questionable was going on here, the man knew it, but she pushed the money at him again, insisting that he give her a ticket.

“How old are you? Where are your parents, young lady?”

“Sixteen! Just take the money, as a tip! Take it all!”

He mumbled under his breath, eyeing the coins and bills. It wasn't against the law to let a sixteen-year-old travel alone, and it wasn't his place to question her appearance. So, after what felt like a million years, he nodded.

“Where to, Ma'am?”

Anywhere, fucking anywhere I can think through all of this.

Sweetie tried to massage the headache that pulsed in her skull.

“Where is that train going, that one leaving?” She pointed to the departing steam engine.

“Manehatten, Ma'am. I assume that would be the train you are late for, hmm?” He didn't even look up as he pocketed the money.

She unfolded the poster that had been resting in her hand, already knowing just what it was. The very same poster she had noticed a few days ago, still sporting a picture of her parent's faces, with big bolded letters at the bottom, MANEHATTEN.

“Yes, that's my train. Thank you for your help-”

Her gratitude was cut short when she noticed the train wheels starting to spin, the engines letting out a monstrous groan and an ear-piercing whistle. She started to chase after the slow-moving engine before the ticket master called to her.

“Almost forgot your ticket. Now, be careful out there, I hear Manehatten is going through some tough business. Most of the people on that train are soldiers.” His voice was almost drowned out entirely by the hard-working engine of the steam engine, but she heard enough. Three words in his sentence clicked in her brain; Manehatten, business, and soldiers.

It reminded her all too well of her parents. They must have left knowing they would probably never come back, but they still left, still fought. They fought, knowing their purpose, and what they would die for. And now, a purpose Sweetie had been searching for in the past few years became clear. What she would die for.

She yanked the ticket out of his hand, and only nodded to him before once again running after the train as it made quick work of the rails, nearing the end of the train deck.

She jumped and managed to grab a bar near one of the train's doors, pulling herself into the train, and waving to the ticket master as the steam engine gained speed, and the station vanished.

Goodbye, home sweet home, how bitter our time together was.

~~~

Sweetie opened the door, stepping inside. It wasn't exactly a luxury train, pretty bland, and for the most part, old. Rarity would hate it. Sweetie smiled.

Perfect.

After being approached by a stewardess, she showed her ticket, and was allowed into a room. Manehatten wasn't exactly close, so the ride would be overnight. Luckily, the chairs would be transformed into mattresses while everybody was at dinner.

The room was cramped, but it would do. She didn't need anything special.

She entered the room, sitting on the nearest chair, throwing her bag into a corner. She was exhausted, completely empty, and stuck on a train headed towards a war-torn city without so much as a bag of luggage full of clothes, or just a little bit of money. But it didn't matter, she didn't need any of those things in a barracks, they would be supplied readily.

The one thing she needed at the moment though was some sleep. So Sweetie brought her knees against her eyes and hugged them, leaning into a corner, the rocking of the train lulling her into a disturbed sleep, plagued with nightmarish images and thoughts.

She was lost in the city, everything dark and twisted into a gigantic version of the Boutique. She was being chased by something, or someone, and it would catch up to her at any moment. But the wind blew hard, and the strain on her muscles was painful, making any distance impossible to travel. So she fell, and resorted to crawling, still pursued by the creature, it's shadow looming over her, blocking out the light from the moon. Finally building up enough courage to look back at it, she immediately recognized the terrifying monster. A large winged man, with lion paws for hands, and a beak for a mouth. His pupils were narrowed to slits, like a wild animal, and his bloody beak was open to attack her.

A griffon. A human abomination, a monster.

But it was only a dream, it couldn't eat her. Wait... It was only a dream...

“Luna! Princess Luna, help!-”

It lunged, scratching at her with his claws, and snapping his beak at her neck.

“HELP ME! PLEASE!”

The beast tore and raked at her with his claws, but still, the princess of dreams was nowhere to be seen. No help came.

Rarity stood on the sidewalk, watching the scene with a blank face, like a robot. But she did nothing. Apple Bloom stood at her side, like a statue, ignoring Sweetie Belles screams for help.

A gunshot sounded, and the griffon froze. Then it crumpled, blood spilling onto her clothes. Somebody grabbed her arm and pulled Sweetie to her feet. It was her mother, dressed in military armor, holding a gun in her free hand. Her father was standing nearby, surveying the area, checking for more griffons.

“Take this!” She commanded, shoving a rifle into Sweetie's hands, which seemed to materialize out of thin air. Her wounds started to seal themselves, and the blood on her clothes evaporated.

“Wait, this is dream. I can stop this!” Sweetie exclaimed.

If I can will the dream to end...

Nothing happened for a moment, until a feral shriek was heard in the distance. The sound of a hoard.

Why won't it work?!

“They're coming! Get to cover!”

Her father started shooting, and the sounds of war commenced. There must have been dozens of the monsters, flying in from all directions. So in an effort, Sweetie shot her gun, and the kickback knocked her down. The bullets seemed to only anger the griffons, and they dove through the air like a hunting hawk.

Rarity and Apple Bloom screamed in pain, and they started to morph into griffons, giant wings sprouting from their backs. Then, they too flew towards Sweetie Belle, shrieking.

So she fired the gun, but it was useless, and she soon ran out of ammunition. Turning to her parents for help, Sweetie found that they too had morphed into beasts. So she did the one thing every human would. She threw the useless rifle at the group and ran. But the wind picked up again, and she couldn't move.

“NOOO!!!” She screamed as they tackled her and started attacking her body, the hoard of monsters pulling her to pieces. She was helpless, only able to scream and pray for it all to end, curling into a fetal position.

~~~

Author's Note

Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, things have been so hectic. I started on a bunch of other stories and never exactly finished any of them, to start with. And I also joined in on a big project that's due in two months, which I've yet to put a single word into. Not to mention that I'm practically drowning in unfinished schoolwork. So yeah, I'm pretty screwed.

Anyway, this chapter is one of the most semi-decent things I've been working on, so yeah, I hope it's good.
Also, my normal Proofreader ShadoHawk is feeling slightly under the weather, so be like Rainbow Dash and poke a hole in those dark clouds to say hi and maybe cheer him up. It would mean a lot, to both him and me.
Thanks!