Wild put his pen down, a groan of frustration escaping past his lips. He looked at the page in his journal, where his own words sat, almost taunting him with their presence.

The day was fine.

What more could he honestly say? Aside from the first day when he had at least something to write about, days that followed were not as rich in experiences as he would have hoped for. He was, as he was told, mindful of what he felt, but a lot of it simply was not fit for putting down on paper. Most of it was inconsequential, just useless musings that would be forgotten the next day or repeated again and again to the point of nausea.

Wild wasn’t a writer. Creative writing assignments were not his thing at all whatsoever. He could not describe the sky as anything other than what it was, a blue all-encompassing thing up above him between him and space, and there were clouds of different kinds and shapes sometimes, and there was also the sun. He could not assign an emotion to the sky, he could not see anything more to it than what it was. Metaphors and such were, simply put, not his strong suit.

Without a doubt, Artful would have been able to describe emotions in flowery language... or, at least, he had the capacity for it, Wild thought. He hadn’t seen if Artful had ever actually written anything, but he had the mindset for creativity - Wild... not really. Unfortunately, he couldn’t exactly ask Artful to help him describe his own emotions properly and put them on paper.

Wild looked out the window - the weather was cloudy but not rainy, and rays of sunlight peeked from behind the clouds here and there. The greenery was turning into an assortment of colors: brown, yellow, red. It was enjoyable to look at as far as Wild was concerned, but he couldn’t find any proper artistic words to describe this autumn in an emotional way. There was, of course, the obvious theme of death and rebirth, with the leaves disappearing from the trees, with the plants withering until spring, but it was hardly worth talking about, in Wild’s opinion.

The only distraction from this frustration was the response letter from Steady Hooves.

Dear Wild,

Thank you for reaching out to me! I know how difficult it is for many young ponies to figure out what they want to do in life, especially when their talent is uncertain or not very sought after on the job market. However, there is always work that needs to be done, and so a pony is not often left without a choice as long as they are willing to take a job that can seem undesirable.

But if you want to enjoy life, picking a job that you won’t enjoy would only bring misery. I would like to talk to you personally, to see what path you could take and be not only content but happy with. I am coming to the Royal Orphanage in a few days under a week after you will have received my letter, and I’d like to take an opportunity to discuss things with you face to face. Unless you would prefer to discuss it all in writing? Either way works for me, let me know what you decide!

Kindest regards,

Steady Hooves

Wild had been tempted to reply that it would work better in writing, but in the end he decided to send a confirmation that he would like to meet her personally when she was in the Royal Orphanage. As much as he didn’t like it, he realized it would be easier, and considering how long her response to his initial letter took, he didn’t want to wait for that long each time they exchanged letters, it would simply take far too long. He lamented the absence of internet - instant messaging was certainly a huge improvement over physical letters. Ponies, to his knowledge, had a telegraph and, of course, radio, so some long-distance communication could be done instantaneously or close enough to it, but most ponies still used physical letters because they were cheaper and easier.

Wild could probably suggest to Princess Luna the idea of internet, but he had zero technical knowledge about how it actually worked aside from that it involved many servers and a lot of internet cables, some of which lay at the bottom of the ocean. But how to put it all together to make the internet, he didn’t have a single clue. There was also the entire basis on which it was all built, which was computing, and he didn’t know a single thing about how computers were invented and how they evolved over time to become what he had once used on a regular basis. However... perhaps the idea itself could lead to some new inventions if ponies knew it was possible in the first place.

Unfortunately, even if the idea was taken seriously and actually put into development, it would be quite a number of years before any sort of internet would be available to anyone publicly. So, in the end, it wouldn’t solve his immediate problem with no real viable instantaneous long-distance communication available.

Wild now had to wait until Steady Hooves was at the Royal Orphanage to find out exactly how he would be able to get a job. Until then, he decided to put it out of his mind, away from his day to day concerns. He knew he had a tendency to overthink things, and he had to put in the effort not to do that. Journaling, as much as he disliked it, was a good distraction even if a frustrating one.

Another day meant another simple line with very few additions. It meant Wild sat with a pen in his grasp and looked at the page in his notebook, hoping that words would simply spring from his mind right on the paper in perfect order, putting what he thought on paper without any language or expression barrier.

There was a solution to be found, of course - asking for help. Princess Luna was around again, so he could go to her and ask. However, it felt like admitting to failure, almost like saying that he couldn’t do what she asked him to do. If she told him to do it, then he had to do it. Not in a sense of obligation demanded by her but his own. If Luna thought he was ready for this, then he had to be ready. However, just because he wanted to be ready, wanted to be good at it, he was simply neither of those two things. He knew how to write, and using his native language helped immensely because he didn’t have to search for words in a dictionary, but knowing how to put words on paper didn’t mean he knew what words to put on paper.

It was a circle of frustration that kept building up and up until... fortunately, he managed not to come to that point - instead, the day of his therapy session with Doctor Fay had finally arrived.

This, however, raised a question and a concern once he cast his mind back to his first session with her. It appeared he would have to make another difficult decision, one he wasn’t sure he was ready for but one he suspected - maybe even knew - he needed to make.

***

Doctor Fay took note of how punctual Wild was. It was just his second time seeing her, but he arrived just on time. Not too early and certainly not a second late. She idly wondered why that was, as ponies had their reasons for being as punctual as they were. She put that thought aside, however, focusing her entire attention on Wild. He was there, and that was the important thing.

This was her second time seeing him in person, and she silently compared what she was seeing now to what she had seen during his first visit. He looked just as healthy, and there were no outward signs of chronic stress as far as she could tell. There was some wariness to him, but it was less than before and yet also... there was a sort of tension to him, something anxious, which made her wonder why.

“Good day, Wild,” she greeted him, “Please, take a seat.”

Wild nodded and, with little hesitation, sat down on the beanbag chair in front of her desk. His position was more relaxed than the first time, which Fay counted as a positive sign.

“What would you like to talk about?” she asked just like the last time. She could continue from where they left off, talking about Wild’s concerns about his future and getting a job, but Fay had a feeling he wanted to bring up something else. This gut feeling was one she had learned to trust, and so she went with it.

Wild flexed his hooves, then looked down at them in something like.... frustration? There was something odd about it, but Doctor Fay didn’t know what it was exactly. Then there was a gathering of resolve in him before he spoke.

“I... was thinking. About... things,” he began haltingly. Doctor Fay noted that his voice wasn’t as weak as she would have expected from someone with a history of silence like him. It likely pointed to him talking to others before her. Before she could think about it further, he continued, “And... to be better, to become better, I... I need to reveal things.”

He then let out a sigh that was almost shaky. He licked his lips, his eyes looking at Doctor Fay but focused elsewhere other than her own eyes.

“I learned that... my history is important,” he said, “And, to become better through... through this,” he made an encompassing gesture, to which Fay nodded - he meant his therapy, “I need to talk about... what I am and why I am... me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and now looking directly into hers.

“Princess Luna knows what I... want to say to you,” he continued, “She told me you can be trusted. What I want to tell... I want it not to be told to anyone.”

“Nothing you say will ever leave this room unless it reaches the limits of confidentiality. The limits are five things, no more and no less. I am obligated to act on them. First is suspicion of child abuse of any kind, be it physical, sexual, verbal, neglect, and others. Second is suspicion of elder abuse of any kind. Third is suspicion of abuse to a disabled person of any kind, at any age. Fourth is a credible threat to harm oneself, and the fifth is a credible threat to harm someone else. All of these limits are there for the sake of the patient’s safety, in this case yourself.”

There was silence as Wild absorbed the information.

“I... do not think any of those limits will be reached,” he said, and Fay noted the uncertainty in his voice. She mentally prepared herself - she knew it was not good news.

There was more silence as Wild gathered himself. He eyed a pitcher of water and a glass situated on the desk, and Fay made a welcoming gesture. He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one go. After he put the glass down, a tiny amount of tension in him loosened.

“I am going to say truth,” he declared, “I am not lying. I am not... making things up. I am not - I did not, um, see it... fakely? I did not dream it. It is all real. I can prove it is real.”

“Very well,” Doctor Fay nodded. She had a bad feeling about it, and perhaps she would have to move her other appointments in order to deal with whatever Wild was going to reveal now.

“I am... from another world,” he said, and this was not what Fay expected to hear. She didn’t let any disbelief show on her face, instead waiting for him to elaborate as she believed he would. Wild’s horn lit up, and a pair of magical hands appeared in the air, “I used to have these. Magic allows me to have them, but... not real? I was a human. Humans walk on two legs and have... these. The arms. We are like monkeys but no tail and... not much fur.”

Doctor Fay peered closer at his magical hands. Now that she was looking, she could see that they were rather detailed. They looked like minotaur hands but more delicate, not quite as wide, and nearly completely hairless. She had a decent understanding of anatomy, and she could see how these hands were certainly no imaginary construct but as real as they could be without being flesh and bone. Skin stretched and loosened as Wild flexed his fingers, and Fay could see not only obvious wrinkles but tiny lines in the skin. The nails were all slightly different from each other, and there were obvious signs of them having been clipped at one point.

This was certainly not something one could easily dream up, it was far too detailed, and there were too many natural imperfections for someone with little knowledge in anatomy to make. Of course, Wild could be a prodigy or have savant syndrome, but Fay ruled it as extremely unlikely based on what she knew.

“I can too speak two more languages,” he said, then said a sentence each in what were clearly two very different languages, his voice shifting noticeably as he said the words, and those words flowed far smoother than with Equestrian language. Now that Fay listened, she realized that he had a noticeable accent that did not come from lack of speaking but from his other two languages, “I can write them too. I can show, I need... writing thing. The... paper. I need paper to show it.”

His voice rose ever so slightly in volume, gaining a note of desperation, the desire to be believed, and Doctor Fay decided it would be for the best if she stopped him there and then.

“I believe you, Wild,” she said gently and honestly.

At that, Wild slumped in relief, breathing just a tad too heavily. He nodded, swallowed, and closed his eyes, breathing in and out in a steady, calming rhythm in silence. Doctor Fay waited patiently even as thoughts raced inside her head, questions appearing one after another that she was dying to ask of Wild but knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Many ponies were aware that different worlds existed, especially in academia, but to see someone who was in one... that was once in a million years sort of occurrence. However, it was not for Doctor Fay to explore, not there and then, and it was not her job. She was there to help Wild, not exploit him for the knowledge she personally had little use for.

“Alright,” Wild finally spoke again, “Alright... And... and this is important. Because... because many things happened to me then. When I was not here,” he visibly swallowed again, “Those things are not happening anymore, but they are... they are here,” he tapped the side of his head with his magical finger, “I remember them, I went through them. And I want to become better. To, to fix what... what was broken by, by others.”

Doctor Fay wished to reassure him, to offer him comfort, but she could see he hadn’t yet finished speaking, and she had a feeling that, should she interrupt him, he would not bring anything more up for a long time. Instead, she continued to patiently wait for him to spill everything he wanted out.

“I... I went through...” he hesitated there, but she could see him steeling himself and pushing forward, “I went through abuse. Not, not by my parents. My parents were wonderful. They... they died early,” he fell into silence again.

Doctor Fay took a mental note - children losing their parents, especially early on, was not an easy thing to overcome. This sort of trauma tended to linger, to influence all one did for a long time after it had set in. Depending on exactly what followed their death, Wild could have developed various behaviors which, by this time, would have become ingrained and difficult to change.

“I was alone,” he continued, “I was... without a home. I could not... could not study. I was never good at studying. And I needed to work, but no one would take me.”

To Fay, this certainly explained his anxiety over getting a job as well as getting kicked out of the Royal Orphanage. Another mental note to take that she would later write down and review alongside everything else. Not to mention that not having a home even for a short while was known to be traumatic, especially if further misfortune fell upon the person. Home was safety, surety, and security - to not have a home meant not to have those three very important things.

“Someone took me,” his expression darkened, “Not for a job. But... but to, to...” he let out a shaky sigh then, physically curling in on himself without seemingly noticing it, “To use me. To violate me. Again and again and again and again,” he let out another sigh even as a horrible realization of what exactly it entailed came upon Doctor Fay, “They took away my, my freedom. And... and my body was, was not mine anymore. Not, not for... for a long time. But I broke out, I escaped,” he looked into Fay’s eyes then, “And I killed them. For what they did to me, I killed them. Not... not long after, I was dead, and then I was here, in this world. That... that is all.”

Wild looked away again, looking down on the floor, and Doctor Fay struggled to process what had just been revealed. She, of course, had studied various cases of varying severity, but this was certainly something out of this world in both literal and figurative senses. She did not miss the implication of how exactly he died, yet she did not want to ask for the fear of confirming it. Besides, she already knew what he meant, and dragging it out of him would help no one.

“I am glad you put this much trust in me,” Doctor Fay settled on saying first, “May I ask you why you decided to take this step?”

“Because I want to be better,” he replied, “And I can’t be better if I do not... if I do not approach what happened to me. And you are not Princess Luna. You are not a princess. You are... you are a regular pony. You know life how it is for us. Princess Luna knows and helps me, but I know she is too old and not, not a regular pony. I thought... I thought I needed a different view. From someone who is a regular pony.”

“Very well,” Doctor Fay nodded, “I will certainly do my best to help you. Now, I must ask you - what do you want? Try to describe it as best as you can. What do you want to get out of these therapy sessions? What exactly do you want to address? Take your time to answer these questions.”

Wild nodded, then turned thoughtful. An ear twitch here, a tiny flex of a muscle there, a tightening around his mouth, a tap of his magical hands against his legs.

Doctor Fay then took her time to categorize what she had learned in simpler, medical terms. Wild was from a different world, meaning a different culture and different values and beliefs. Wild had childhood trauma related to the deaths of his parents. Wild had trauma from unjust imprisonment and repeated sexual assault. Wild had trauma from killing others with purpose and clear intent. Wild had at least one suicide attempt - although labeling it as attempt was technically wrong, considering that it was successful and, from what Doctor Fay understood, ended up bringing him over to this world. As Wild described, he was not a pony at birth, so his old body was somehow discarded and replaced by a pony one. This could result in body image issues, but so far Doctor Fay did not see any signs of it - Wild, by all accounts, seemed perfectly comfortable in his new body. However, what he thought on the inside was not something that she would bet anything on, and it would be her job to help him reveal those feelings, to himself if not to her, and she would also need to teach him how to deal with those feelings.

Finally, Wild spoke up again.

“I want to stop avoiding touch,” he said, “I... I recently had a, had... someone ask me for a relationship. To try a relationship. And I want it. But I know I can’t be... good at it. Not until I stop fearing I will be hurt. Some things, they help with that, but... but I want more. I want touch, it... I tried it recently, just being close, and... touch is good. And I want more. But there is fear, and I... I don’t know how to get over it. I know I have this because... because of what happened to me. And... this is what I need to get over.”

“Alright. Would you like to address it first right now or do you want to discuss something else?”

“...right now,” he nodded, “I fear, but... but I must. I must go through. Because... because otherwise, it gives them power over me. They are dead, they do not... they will not have power over me.”

“This is a good attitude to have,” Doctor Fay nodded, “They indeed do not have power over you. You are your own person and your body belongs to you. Only you can decide what others can and can’t do with your body. You can always retract your permission if given, and no one is owed permission to your body.

“Now, it is good that you recognize what happened to you. It may not seem like it, but it is the first step towards recovery. Can you tell me what you feel about it? You don’t need to answer it, I will respect it if you say no, as anyone should.”

“...I felt powerless,” Wild admitted, “Now, I feel... I feel like I should have fought better. I feel... I feel dirty, every day, even when it is not... a strong feeling. I know I am not, um, dirty, I know it is not because I did things that, that this happened to me. But I feel dirty, like, like there is a thing about me that I can’t get rid of, can’t wash clean. I... I hoped that, by killing them, it would wash clean what I feel, but... but it’s still there,” he said with a frustrated huff, “I do not know how to get rid of it.”

Doctor Fay was certainly no specialist in how to help sexual assault survivors, considering just how rare it was, but she knew enough about it from her studies, and she had a generally decent idea of how a sexual assault survivor could feel. This was a good starting point, and she had to project confidence in order for Wild to feel like he could rely on her. She would have to do some intense research after the session, but that was for later.

“I believe it will be helpful to remind yourself that this body, the new one you gained after you traveled to this world, has never been violated in that way,” she said, “Your old body is gone, and everything that happened to it is gone as well. Perhaps you are not as connected to your new body as you need to be. I would suggest practicing mindfulness - you should simply focus on what you’re feeling in the present moment. Not what you felt before. Feel your own body, feel where it begins and ends, feel how it moves. You can do it anywhere, even while walking or eating. Connect to it, feel it as a part of yourself.”

“I am... already trying to do that,” Wild nodded.

“That’s good to hear,” Doctor Fay gave him a smile, “A thing that may help is rhythmic movement. It could be dancing, for example. It could also be just walking or running if you concentrate on the movements of your legs. Anything that combines rhythm and movement can work.”

“I... never thought about it.”

“It is something to keep in mind,” she nodded, “There are also various movement arts like yoga, they combine body awareness with relaxing, which can help you relieve your anxiety and fear.”

“I... I will try that,” Wild nodded with some uncertainty, “I stretch too. Does that work?”

“Of course, especially if you’re mindful when you’re doing it,” Doctor Fay said, “And lastly, you should practice consensual touch. Touch is very important to our well-being, it is vital for our mental, emotional, and physical health. I know it may sound difficult, but by choosing when and where and with whom you make contact, you will regain control over your body.”

“I am... doing that,” Wild confirmed, “It is difficult, but... but touch feels good. I just... I do not know if I can do it often.”

“As often as you can,” Doctor Fay insisted, “You may also try out a massage. I know it may feel uncomfortable to open yourself up to this, but touching and being touched is an important way we give and receive affection and comfort. Getting used to it will be good for you.”

“I do not know if I can do that,” Wild admitted, “I... is there... is there someone that is trustful? Someone I can trust not to... not to do anything bad?”

“There is a spa salon in Ponyville that I know has a perfect record over more than a decade,” Doctor Fay said, “I have visited it myself on a couple of occasions and have no complaints. They specialize in beauty treatments, but they are licensed to provide massage therapy. Ponyville Day Spa is run by twin mares called Aloe and Lotus Blossom. Would you be comfortable with mares touching you?”

“Yes,” Wild nodded without hesitation. There were no... uncomfortable associations between touch and women.

“Alright, then I can give you a referral so that the cost is covered,” Doctor Fay said, “Of course, if you feel uncomfortable, you can leave at any time. At any time, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Wild said, then simply breathed for a short while, “I... I think it’s done for this day.”

“Very well,” Doctor Fay agreed immediately, silently relieved that it was over, “Would you like to schedule another meeting? I would say around two weeks should give you plenty of time.”

“Yes, please.”

After Doctor Fay marked a day in her schedule for him and told him when to come see her again, Wild left.

Doctor Fay finally allowed herself to slump in her seat and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. This was mentally and emotionally exhausting, and she knew she would need some time to come to terms to what she had learned about Wild. She congratulated herself on not losing her composure while he was there, but now she could allow herself to feel the tiredness and the shock of what she learned.

Without a single doubt, this was not going to be easy.

Author's Note

Finally, Wild decides to take another step and trust another person.

I would like to remind everyone that I am not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. My understanding of how people are treated comes from the internet. If anyone who knows better than me wants to correct me, feel free to do so.

Some may think that Wild is too ready about accepting the touch of others, but I believe I made the right choice by making him ready. There is a sort of distance between what a pony-on-pony touch feels and what a human-on-human touch feels. If it was suggested to Wild that a human touch him, he would be far more against it. Besides, enough things happened between when he was a human and this moment in the story that the memory of how he was hurt is more distant, although apparently some research relating to PTSD suggest that people do indeed actually relive those memories, meaning that they do experience them as if they happen right that moment.

Wild is also doing a leap of faith, essentially, because he wants to become better, and he thinks it would work if he doesn't avoid it. Plus some positive experience from the last few chapters helps.