Ice.

Our greatest enemy.
And my only true friend.

For most this cold hardships and misery.
For me it brings back memories of of greater times.

Times when my friends and I would go and get ice cream, or ice cold sodas on hot days.
Times when we would have snowball fights, build snowmen and snow forts, even make snow angels.
Time when we would bathe in the warmth of a fire in a fireplace, sipping hot chocolate, with a blanket wrapped over our shoulders.

Times when we would laugh as we we raced down hills of snow and ice.
Times of happier days of friendship and love.
When my friends and I would go out and just do something to find out what our talents were.

We did not care if it was a heat wave or a howling blizzard outside.

We were friends for as long as I can remember.

But they left me at college graduation.

We promised to stay in touch with each other.

But they never responded to any of my calls nor letters.

I took it personally, I thought they did not like me anymore.

So I went and found my talent on my own.

I became a famous singer.
Known as The Sweetheart Bell.

Only one friend contacted me back.

It turns out that she had found her talent as well.

She became a famous dancer, known as The Twirling Bloom.

She also said that the gang was reforming.
There were members who wanted to find their talents.

We tried to get her back, but she found herself a wife and she had a kid.

Before we even knew how her house and family got burned, she was burning our group to death.

She became known as Scootaloo the burner.

She burned entire towns to the ground.
She used fire to bring pain to the ones who cared about her.

She was caught when she came to kill us.

She was convicted of the murder of an entire state worth of victims and was sentenced to death.

I found it kinda ironic.

She was sentenced to death by the same tool she used to killed with.

“My pain has finally come to an end.”

As I watched her speak her final eight words, I could not help but to cry as she was pushed into the fire.

If only she had stopped and let us explain. Maybe if we asked her to come back in person. Maybe if we had not grew apart.

Then maybe, just maybe, she would not have be getting burned alive.

She never even screamed in pain or anguish.
Or if she did it was probably being covered up by my own screams.

Even to this day, the day I lay on my death bed, I can not even be in the heat or hear the crackling of a nice warm fire.

Because it brings back those memories of watching the only one I ever had a forbidden love for, get burned alive.

That is why I have lived in the cold confines of my mansion.

I dismissed the butlers, maids, gardeners, all of them.
And lived in the mansion alone, never turning the heat on.
Always living the the cold embrace.

I came out only to do my concerts and tours.

But I never left the cold.

That's probably how I got sick all the time.

But I refused to care or get help for myself.
I don't deserve help. I drove my friend and secret crush into a murder spree and eventually to her death by the one thing she was most scared of.

It would be so easy to lock myself in the freezer. It would be even easier to grab the gun my sister gave me after she joined the army and end it all with a simple pull of the trigger.

But that is not what she would have wanted.

She would have wanted me to be strong and continue to live.

But I can not.

She was my support. My sister was never around when I needed her, but she was.

It got even worse when my sister joined the army.

After she joined the army, I was left alone with nobody to talk to are to even yell at me.

I didn't find out until around the holidays that she was killed in battle. But her gift to me was a gun with exactly five clips of ammo already set up.

I went into a downward spiral of depression.

I did all manner of drugs, I became an alcoholic, I even became violent to those around me.

They all abandoned my side, all except, Scootaloo.

She stayed by my side no matter how much I yelled at her, cursed her, even when I beaten her, she stayed by my side.

She even got me the help I needed after I almost overdosed on heroin.

With her help, I got better.

Not knowing how to repay her I asked her to come live with me.
And she agreed.

But now even looking at pictures of us when we were just kids in elementary school, all I see is the one who hurt me so much.

Her happy smile turned into a scowl. Her usual happy, optimistic demeanor changed into one of pain and anger.

I do not even blame her for what she did.

Because it was my fault.

If I had went to her myself. Then she could be here in this world with her family and friends.

But that will never happen.

Months after Scootaloo was killed, I got a message from The Twirling Bloom’s manager saying that she had hung herself.
Hearing this did not help me at all.

If anything it drove me farther into the hole of depression.

After I wailed I grabbed the gun and ended it all.

“I'll see you all soon. Mom, dad. Applebloom, Scootaloo, Rarity.”

Were my last words, before I painted the walls with my brains.

Author's Note

Thought of while freezing trying to get my dog inside.