Pronyzac

by Norlf

Rating: teen
Tags: Suicide / Self Harm, Slice of Life, Berry Punch, Dark, Narcotics, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 2844

Berry Punch is depressed. Whatever does that mean.

Berry Punch is depressed. Since when ? Why ? What even is depression ? Nopony know, nopony ever had such disease.

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This is the translation of a rewrite of a fiction I wrote some night in 2014. I used to write a lot back then in the French community, and wanted to write again fro weeks, but this time in English.

Thanks to Bad Pacing for proofreading.

Published 2018-02-21 17:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-02-21 17:00:06 UTC

Pronyzac

The burning alcohol glided down my throat, heating my guts and dazing my already steamy mind. I put down my mug once it was empty, clinking it against the round little piece of cardboard I used as a coaster. Without losing any more time, I waved my hoof at the mare behind the counter.

"Seven, bring me another."

She raised her head from her cash register, and stared at me, frowning slightly.

"Berry, it's almost ten thirty, you should stop now."

"Just pour me a short glass then, maybe whiskey? Just a little?"

The barmare sighed, but she still poured me a drink. Seven Saltworthy was a mare who alway looked worried, with a deep dark mane and a white coat, slightly tinted with grey.

As she came near me, carrying my drink on a tray balanced on her hoof, I could see her cutie mark, half hidden behind a washcloth she carried on her rump. A single mint leaf, maybe related to cocktails. I'm no fan of these sort of things, but I'll remind myself to ask her for one some day, to see if it really is her special talent.

She dropped the glass in front of me, and left with the empty one. I followed her with my eyes for a few seconds, before taking a look at the place and its few actual customers. There weren't a lot of ponies this morning, as usual. A unicorn was sitting at the counter, his mane a blue as pale as his yellow coat. He was quietly reading today's newspaper, and drew from time to time some circles on it with his pen. In a corner, the farthest from the entrance, I recognized Applejack, who were giggling silently with this pegasus with the colorful mane... Impossible to remember the name of this one. Whatever anyway.

Nothing interesting to see; I got back to my glass of whiskey. A small glass, used to contain strong alcohols. It wasn't even fully filled, Seven only served me half a dose. At least she didn't add ice.

I grabbed my drink and brought it to my muzzle. The heavy scent of alcohol frayed its way to my nostrils, intoxicating me before I even dipped my lips into the brown liquid. It was strong. The kind of shit you took time to savour.

I threw my head back and emptied it in one go.

I may have tilted my head a bit too quickly, as I felt myself lose balance and fall back. Thankfully, a hoof stopped me in my fall. I turned my head to see my savior.

"Careful, Berry, take it easy."

Carrot, of course. I didn't know how she did that, but she was always at the right place at the right time to watch my back. I felt she was a pony I could call a friend. She helped me up and sat next to me.

"You've been here for long?"

"Since opening."

She sighed et stared at me with a pained look.

"Berry, can't you do something else? Don't you want to go to the park, see a friend, or even come with me to the fields for an hour or two?"

I refused, of course. None of these interested me at this time. Nothing interested me anymore.

Carrot looked at me a few more seconds without a word, then turned to Seven, who came to take her order.

"Oh, no thanks, nothing. I just came to see Berry. You don't serve her anything until this evening, okay?

"Don't worry, nothing more until four pm."

I waited for the barmare to leave before looking at the ceiling with a grunt.

"You had to tell her about my little predicament, didn't you?"

"Yes, Berry, the doctor was very strict on this point. No alcohol one hour before, and at least four hours after."

This thing irritated me. These little green and white pills only made me a little sober on the afternoon. I saw Applejack and the pegasus leave their table and head to the exit. They walked past us.

"Hi Carrot, Hi Berry!"

"Applejack, Rainbow Dash! Good morning!"

Rainbow Dash, that was it. I remembered her name then, I decided to try to not to forget it again. The two mares smiled to us and left the bar. Carrot also got up from her chair, and laid a hoof on mine to catch my attention. I lifted up my head to face her.

"Tomorrow is the birthday of Piña Colada. You remember it? Please, Berry. Don't drink this afternoon. Go home, and do something for her. A cake, anything, but do something. She will be so happy."

I slowly nodded without breaking sight, then she left me.

Piña... My little sister. Each time I raised my drink, I could see her apprehensive face in the bottom of the glass. Back in the day we were really close. Before I turned into this. "This", the blurry pony with the glassy eyes who glared at me from the reflexion in the mirror behind the counter. I didn't even know why I was in this state. It just happened, gradually, without me even noticing it.

"Do you want a glass of water, to pass the time?"

"Nah, I'm having lunch outside today."

"Your choice. Have a good day, Berry."

I got up, and left.

Outside, the sky was bright and clear, free from any cloud, as blue as can be. The sun illuminated the city, shining a soft and sweet warmth. Everypony who walked by me addressed me with a bright smile, wishing me a good day, sometimes asking me about my day. A day like every other day.

The good mood and joy filled the air, but glided over me though. None of the smiles warmed my heart, no, none of them. My body was closed to all of this. I only wished for it, still, to feel happy and beam to everypony who crossed my path. But a feeling of sickness haunted me, anytime, without knowing why... Damn it, how I envy all these joyful ponies.

I trotted aimlessly, not too sure about where to go, heading right or left as I walked, until I saw Sugarcube Corner. I decided to eat there. Luckily, the Cakes won't be aware about my medication, and let me have a rum baba for desert.

I pushed the door, ringing a little bell hanging above. Immediately, a huge puff of pink hair jumped at my face.

"Hello! Welcome to the Sugarcube Corner! Oh! Berry, it's you! I'm so happy to see you, how're you doing? Houuuu, you did drink again this morning? You know it's not a good thing to drink too much, you can get sick! A bit of drinking is ok, because it's good, and funny when you are with friends, but too much, it isn't good, it makes you sick! But I already said that... I did already, uh? Anyway, it's no big deal. You came to eat? We got a lot of sweet things to eat, and they are fresh, we just finished baking them! Look, we got cupcakes, muffins, chocolate éclairs – chocolates so good! –, pie, tart, custard, profiteroles – hihi, this word is so strange! – crème brûlée, doughnuts, waffles, and even some tiramisu! Oh, no no, sorry Berry, but you can't have tiramisu, not at noon, we put alcohol in it! I'm so, so sorry..."

Horseapple, they knew. Whatever. I still order a plate of five flower salad and a crème brûlée – they use alcohol to burn the top of the crème, even if all the alcohol evaporates during the process, at least a slight aftertaste remains.

I sat myself at the nearest table and waited to have my order served. There wasn't any other customers yet, it wasn't quite noon still. So soon enough, Pinkie Pie brought me my plate without much waiting.

"Pinkie, can you also bring me a glass of water?"

"Right away!"

She disappeared and reappeared the second after with what I asked her.

"Anything else?"

"No, thanks."

"You're welcome!"

She left to let me enjoy my meal by myself. It was really good, though. Bellis, Lucerne, Cytisus, Hypericum, and Daisy. It wasn't just tasty, it was also colorful, quite nice to see. The crème brûlée was at least as good. The Sugarcube Corner was really a fine place to eat. With the good meal and the joyful mood of Pinkie, I could almost smile again.

If only I didn't have to swallow this damn pill.

Small, ovale, green on one end, white on the other, it was nothing but a reminder of my doom. This medicine had been especially created for my condition, and was supposed to help me regain my mood. It was alway a weird way to put the words... "Regain the mood". Who in Equestria could lose their mood? Especially here, in Ponyville. The doctor had named my illness: Depression.

I didn't know how I had caught that, I didn't even know what it was. I simply woke up some morning, and I couldn't smile anymore. Actually, it didn't happen in one day, but I never realised it until somepony told me about my bad mood which was persistent from some weeks then. I started to drink alcohol... Well, more than the usual, hoping to regain some of my joy. Just like at the parties, when we all drank cider and sang. It didn't work well though. But at least, alcohol helped me to forget my sadness for a time. I could think about other things, and time passed quicker this way.

But now, even at the parties, I can't have fun anymore. Everything looks dull and uninteresting. "Why bother?" was a phrase that echoed regularly in my head.

I am Berry Punch, the depressed pony.

I gulped down my pill and the glass of water, and then left the bakery, which had filled itself with more ponies since my arrival.

I was outside again, under the summer's bright sunshine. It was simple, but it softened my heart... Only for a second.

What to do now, I didn't plan anything until this night, when I will be able to eat again, and then go to sleep. Eventually, I still didn't want to do anything, but I had to push myself to find an occupation. The doctor had told me that would help to recover.

I thought back to Carrot, who offered me to catch up with her at the fields, before Piña Colada made her way into my mind. I headed toward the nearest grocery store. A small establishment, attended by an old grey stallion with large glasses. I bought everything I needed to bake a cake, and then returned to my home.

I rummaged through every drawer and each cupboard, grabbing every tool and ingredient necessary before setting them on the kitchen's table. I was going to bake a cake. A chocolate cake. It was quite simple to do and, as Pinkie had said: chocolate's good.

Before starting, I poured myself a grand glass of cognac, my favorite alcohol. I wasn't normally allowed to drink, not this soon after taking my medication. But I had at home a great bottle, which came from a keg that had aged in my basement for fifteen years. It was also the only bottle I succeeded in hiding from Carrot. This one, no way wasting it by drinking it too quickly. I had to make it last.

After settling for five minutes to savor the taste of this subtly sugary alcohol, I put myself to work.

I first poured some sugar in my bowl, then the flour. Then, as I let some butter melt on a pan, I added the eggs in the mix and started to blend it vigorously. Once the butter melted, I poured it in my bowl and continued to work. The only thing left was to melt chocolate and add it to the whole.

I then had a full mix of cake dough. I was pretty proud of myself, my preparation looked good.

Before setting it in the oven, I served myself a second glass of cognac, which I drank slowly, quietly waiting for the twenty minutes long of baking needed for my cake.

I was feeling quite appeased, strangely. Maybe mixing alcohol and medicine wasn't that bad, after all? Well, I had to admit, having an activity really was helping. Baking that cake wasn't difficult, but it kept my mind focused.

When I estimated that my cake was ready, I got up and walked, slightly reeling, to the cupboard where I stored my largest plate. I had to climb on a chair to reach it, but I eventually got a hold on it. I carefully slid the cake on the plate, and headed back to the table.

But just then I slipped on a small piece of melted butter, sending the plate with the cake on the floor, and my head heavily hit a chair.

I stayed on the floor for a moment, fighting the tears as I held my neck. It hurt so much, my eyesight was all blurry. But I still could see the cake I had baked for my little sister, crushed on the tiles, wasted. As was my plate, now in pieces.

"Shit..."

I clenched my teeths as tears slid down my face. I was such an idiot, I just ruined the cake for my little sister. I was torn between sadness and anger. Out of rage, I stomped a hoof on the ground.

"Ouch!"

I rose my hoof before my eyes. I had hit a piece of broken plate, which had cut me slightly. Whining from the pain, I drag myself to the nearby wall, and then took a look at my leg. It didn't look so bad, even if a bit of blood was dripping. I really felt like a dumb pony.

A dumb pony, not even able to do something this simple. I was so furious at myself for letting this cake fall on the ground. I had nailed it thought, and I was so thrilled to present it to Piña tomorrow noon... All of this because, once again, I drank.

I was sick of it. Sick to be nothing but an alcoholic, unable to resist the urge to take a drink every few hours or so. And yet I did nothing to change. I didn't have the will, nor the motivation.

"I'm lame..."

Regardless how much time I took to think, it was the only conclusion I ended up with: I was just Berry, the lame and depressed alcoholic.

It lasted for a long time. Almost two years. Two years living like this, unhappy, jadded of everything, interested in nothing. Two years since I stopped working, since I did nothing more with my time than drink the bits I saved, or those which had been offered to me to help me live.

I'd love to talk about it with others, but it wasn't easy... Despite the smiles of the ponies, I could feel the discomfort I inspired them. I wasn't normal to them. How could I talk about it with them? Even with Carrot, it wasn't easy. I felt alone, so alone.

I slightly lifted my head, staring at the mess on the kitchen's floor. Through my tears, still pressing my injured leg, I saw the piece of plate that wounded me. It was pretty large, and looked sharp. I was surprised to not have noticed it before I hit the ground. It was stained with chocolate, and my own blood. I shivered.

A thought I didn't like had just crossed my mind, and it scared me. But this piece of broken, sharp plate was calling me. Shaking, I leaned to grab it. The information rushed in my head. Why would I keep up like this? I couldn't find a reason to force me to keep going. Nothing was appealing to me anymore, and each day was spent suffering on the inside in silence. However, I didn't want to do what I was about to do. I didn't, at all, but... I was terrified. I held the piece of plate in my hoof, the sharp side angled to my other leg. I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth.

Pushed over by anger and despair, I firmly pressed the junk on my skin, and instantly a jolt of pain rushed from my limb to my head. Screaming, I threw away the piece of plate, and took hold of my leg. What did I just do!? Why did I do that, what was wrong with me!?

My blood pulsed out of my leg, making a mess of my fur and the kitchen's floor. I yelled, horrified by my own action. It hurt so much! Hurry, someone had to help me! I got up and rushed to the exit, looking for help in the street.

I was an idiot, I wounded myself! I hate myself.

I want someone to help me.