"Mom!... Moooom!"
Rarity's screams came echoing from the upstairs bedroom. Tears were welling uncontrollably from her eyes. She was blinded, blinking hard she fought them back.
She didn't wait for a response; she leaned down and wrapped her hooves beneath the head and knees of Sweetie Belle. Rarity cradled her gently as she stood once more.
"Sw—Sweetie Belle, what have you done?" She sobbed in a whisper.
Blood trickled along Rarity's forearm and softly patted to the floor as she ran, bracing Sweetie Belle against her chest; only stopping once she reached her studio.
"Mom go get Doctor Whooves, now!"
"What is it? What's wrong?" Rarity's mother appeared in the doorway.
"It's Sweetie Belle, she's hurt; hurry, go find the Doctor!... Run!"
Her mother hesitated for a moment, then turned and bolted from the room.
Sweetie Belle's head bobbed as Rarity gingerly laid her on one of the tables. A bolt of cloth stood in a cupboard; Rarity unwound it in a flurry and tore it to strips with her teeth. She looked down at Sweetie Belle's forehooves, they were making deep crimson stains where they rested on the white fabric covering the table. Rarity was shaking as she lifted an arm and wound the makeshift tourniquet around the deep pooling cuts of Sweetie Belle's wrist.
"Sweetie Belle," she was forcing herself with much difficulty to whisper, "w—why would you do something like this?"
She looked into Sweetie Belle's eyes as she pulled the fabric taught and fastened the knot. Her little sister's eyes were glimmering; a tear slid its way out as they were slowly blinking shut.
"Sweetie Belle no!" Rarity wildly wound another strip of cloth around the other exposed hoof. "You have to stay awake for me! Listen to my voice alright?" The bonds were fastened and she embraced Sweetie Belle's head in her forearm.
A small, loose book was tied around Sweetie Belle's neck with a lace ribbon. Rarity undid the fastening and set the book aside.
"Listen to me, Sweetie Belle, you can't close your eyes! You're going to be alr—"
"Where is she?" Doctor Whooves careened into the room. In the time it took him to follow the scarlet stains on the floor to the table, he had already answered himself. Rarity made room for the Doctor beside the table, still clasping one of Sweetie Belle's hooves in her own. The Doctor raced silently, throwing open his black leather bag and withdrawing several chromed instruments.
Sweetie Belle had grown colder; her eyes began their teetering shut. "C'mon Belle, c'mon... " Rarity managed through her sobs. She stroked her sister's head; Sweetie Belle's breathing was shallow.
"Sweetie Belle you can’t close your eyes! Not now!"
Sweetie Belle's eyes were squinting, but she couldn't help it. It was too much effort to keep them open.
"I'm... I'm so sorry, Rary."
Her eyes closed once more, but this time they failed to open.
Rarity stood, waiting desperately, "Sweetie Belle... Sweetie Belle!"
The Doctor dropped his tools in a clattering to the floor and reached his hooves under the unconscious child, "There's not much time; I need to take her out of here now!" He sprinted from the room, carrying Sweetie Belle. Rarity stood, facing the doorway. Muffled hollers came from the stairwell: the Doctor, shouting to her mother to follow him to the hospital.
Still in shock, she hadn't moved. Her well of tears had dried, leaving her cheeks singed.
She scrunched her burning eyes shut, collapsed to the floor, and covered her face with her hooves.
There she lay, silently, in the dark room.
____________________
Hours passed a hollow silence in the dimming studio. Rarity forced herself to sleep.
The shutting of the front door on the lower floor woke her. Her eyes had dried and stung red, the world that she awoke to was drained of light from the closed window curtains; there were dark patches on the wooden floor.
Dark patches on the wooden floor.
She remembered why she slept, to try and awaken herself from the nightmare. She forced the memories from her head as she stood, shaking. She traced the stains to her design table, but turned away before she caught glimpse of the blackening tarnishes of the white fabric.
Her darkened reflection in one of the blackened mirrors caught her sight. Through the murky depths of green glass, she made out two bloodshot eyes staring through her. She shook it off before falling in.
This is only a nightmare.
She managed her way to the stairwell, facing into the monotonous dim pools below. "Mmm... mom?" Her voice was cracked and hoarse.
There was no response. Only more shadows.
The creak was deafening as she landed a hoof on one of the steps. "Mom, w—what's happening?"
She nearly asked if everything was alright.
It's not alright, my sister just tried to...
She strained her eyes down the staircase, but the ensuing emptiness had consumed her voice. She took several more steps, sinking into the ocean.
She blinked the darkness from her eyes, only to stare into the abyss of her living room. The silhouettes of furnishings distinguished themselves from the sinking walls: familiar chairs and couches, the small bed of Opalescence, the round table and lantern.
There, her mother stood, in the middle of the room. Her eyes were blackened and bore into her skull. She stood, screaming... Silently.
---
Rarity's eyes shot open as she gasped for air. Her fur clung to her body as sweat ran its way down her mane.
She was lying on the familiar floor, well lit by the clean light from the window; the curtains were drawn, it was morning.
Her hooves found the floor beneath her and she pressed herself up, grunting, through the sore buildup in her legs. She arched her shoulders back to stretch, breathing in deeply; she shuddered, unlocking her knees.
Her ears twitched; someone was crying. The sounds came from the stairwell, soft and delicate. Rarity had heard the faint weeping often. Ever since her parents began their fighting—
No, our parents.
She turned to face the abandoned room she slept in; the red tinges across the wood that trickled up and settled on the fabric. She lifted a fore-hoof, the blood had dried and shifted like paint as it clung to her fur. Tears would have come, but she had none left.
Another sigh of mourning echoed its way to the studio. Rarity stood, anticipating.
There, in the middle of the room... screaming.
She looked up into the mirror. Her reflection mutually returned the glance, and they traced their eyes over each others' unkempt state. Their milky cheeks were flush, adorned by black crescents beneath red-singed eyes. They lifted a fore-hoof and matted down a patch of plum mane before Rarity sighed, breaking the gaze and closing the door softly behind her.
She crept silently down the well-lit flight; there her mother sat, on the rose-pattern sofa, crying into a tissue.
Only one question that rang its way through Rarity's mind. "Is... is she going to be alright?"
Her mother's head lifted, and her teal eyes sugarcoated none of the answers.
There's a feeling worse than blindness — it's the certainty that your vision is perfect and the horror that the world is falling in on you.
This time tears muddled Rarity's eyes; they burned furiously but she ignored the pain. She desperately needed something, anything real to hold on to.
After the divorce her father had already left, without so much a goodbye. That day no one spoke, there was no need.
Her mother was leaving as well, to stay with her parents; to ‘get back on her feet’. Her mother had decided Rarity was old enough to run the shop and look after Sweetie Belle; she had no real reason to stay with them anymore.
Besides being a parent.
And the day of her departure hadn’t changed. It was today; the day after Sweetie Belle’s short lived life. Rarity saw the bags by the door; she looked back at her mother when she spoke.
“I’ll be back for the funeral.”
Even after her sister’s death, nothing had changed.
Her mother leaned in to embrace her, but she ducked beneath her arms and ran for the stairs.
“Rari—”
“NO!”
Crying had made it difficult to see, and Rarity clipped her foot on the first stair at full gallop. She winced and caught herself, but hadn’t let up pace. She limped to her studio, slammed the door and locked it shut.
She ignored the muffled sobs that came from the basement; with her back pressed against the door, she slid down to her flank. Rarity’s chest flared up and down as she shuddered through each breath.
Her own mother had forsaken her. There was nothing real to hold onto.
The small book. The lace ribbon. Around my sister’s neck.
____________________
The room was dimming once more. The sounds from the basement ended hours ago, with one final shut of the front door.
Rarity traced her hoofs across the floor where she sat by the door. She felt as if she was dreaming, but abandoned all hope of that blessing. She left etches through the dry blood of the floor; there was no denying she was agonizingly conscious.
The thoughts of the small book had pressed their way into her mind more than once; yet she hesitated. It was her little sister’s diary. She could remember on more than one occasion her sister’s reaction to somepony reading it.
And it was the sole remaining, tangible part of her sister. In the few hours of its presence, it had become sacred; she felt that reading it would somehow desecrate it.
Please, Rary
"...Alright."
She gathered what little remained of her strength and stood, shaking. She surfaced by the table; there, resting by the edge was the little brown book.
She gently handled it in her hooves; the pages were crimped from being wet.
From tears.
Rarity sighed deeply, opening the book to a random page. She pressed it flat against the table and began to read.
Today I cried more than I ever have before. I woke up in the morning when Mommy and Daddy were yelling at each other. I was so scared, I couldn't come out from my blankets until they stopped. Daddy shouted a divorce before he left our house, and Mommy didn't come home at all today. I wish Rary wasn't so sad, I wanted to be with her all day so we could be happy together. But she didn't let me help her with anything, she only got mad at me when I didn't do it right, so I hid in my room so she wouldn't see me cry—
Rarity's tears hit the pages. "I... I had no idea." She barely stifled a whisper, "I'm so sorry Sweetie Belle, I—I would've done something different if I knew."
Don't cry Rary, it wasn't your fault
She turned to a page further in the book.
They said that we would be able to spend more time together, but it would only be with me and Mommy or me and Daddy. But they didn't say why we couldn't all be together. They said this would make me and Rary happy, but I'm so sad, I think something's wrong with me. I don't want this anymore.
I found something different than sad. I would bleed, and it would make me feel better. I can't feel anything, so I make myself feel something.
The tears were finally making it impossible to read, so she let the book fall to the floor. "Sweetie Belle I never knew... why hadn't you told me?" She sobbed through the cold room.
"I... I was scared to."
Now I'm hearing voices.
She knelt to the floor and wrapped her face in her hooves.
"Rary, please don't cry—"
"Stop talking to me!" Rarity screamed into the darkness.
Silence.
A child whimpered sensitively.
"Why must you speak so careless toward your sister?"
That voice
The words resonated through the studio in graceful supremacy; a voice entirely opposite to that of Sweetie Belle's, yet shockingly familiar.
A breeze danced its way across Rarity's body. She brought her hands from her face to gaze through the room. The curtains were billowing; the pressing silhouette of a mare was standing in the arch of the open window.
Rarity jumped, "L—Luna?!..."
Her star emblazoned mane billowed against the stars of the night sky outside. "Quite... I happened across this little one." Luna beckoned toward the hunched over ball on the floor, sniffling.
Rarity's pupils erupted; she stood, awestruck. Her lip trembled as she glanced back to the Princess, "I—I... I don't..."
"I'm afraid you two don't have much time together; you must understand, events must run their course... But we mutually agree, that the element of generosity, deserves our blessing of generosity. We couldn't watch such an innocent love be torn apart in... such a way." Her eyes glanced to the floor on the last words. She rose again, "We wished for you to at least say your goodbyes."
Rarity galloped over and swept her sister into her arms.
"W—why did you yell at me Rary?" She looked up through glittering eyes.
"I'm sorry Sweetie Belle, I didn't mean to. Just hug me tight, before you have to go." She stroked a hoof down the back of Sweetie Belle's head.
"I will." She buried her nuzzle in Rarity's dampened mane, and closed her eyes.
Luna smiled and turned—
Rarity glanced over her sister's shoulder, "—Princess... my sister will be alright, won't she? W—will I ever see her again?"
Eons of memories flickered across Luna's pupils like a flame. She paused, her smile trickling wider across her mouth as her eyes danced over. She looked back, "Maybe one day, Rarity." Her wings unfurled and billowed the air to ribbons, vanishing from the windowsill.
Rarity looked down to the filly wrapped in her arms. Her sister had grown colder, but in an ethereal way. Rarity slid her arms across the young mare's back, and watched them glide along Sweetie Belle's fading body. She whispered, pulling her sister in tighter, "I... I think it's goodbye, Sweetie Belle."
Her sister sobbed into her matted-down chest, "B—but I don't want to leave you here sis'!"
She felt the ghostly hooves squeeze into her back; the embrace slowly drifting away into an ebb tide.
"Shhh Sweetie Belle it's alright... I'll be alright." She closed her eyes tight to deliver herself from watching her sister fade, "I just want you to know, I've always loved you; even all those times I've been mad at you, or even when Mom and Dad would fight, I love you... we always love you..."
Her little sister's chest was rocking, "I... I love you too, sis'... But, but what's going to happen tyounmo—"
"Promise me, Sweetie Belle... Promise me that you'll always remember we love you."
She felt the filly tremble, through her sniffing "I promise, Rary."
Her voice echoed away in a muffle.
Rarity's hooves touched to her own chest. She scrunched her eyes tighter, and held herself, waiting for the hope of her sister's voice again.
She counted the seconds... the minutes... the hours.
____________________
A distant call of birds trickled up from the valley below. Warmth tickled her face. Bringing her hooves to her eyes, she scrunched her nose and broke into a yawn. Her arms arched over her head, and her eyes opened to the windowsill. The glimmers in the sky were met by pink and orange sluggishly washing into the dark blue oceans of night. Cradled by the black silhouettes of mountains and the pewter lining of clouds, the sun sat low to the horizon, setting the twilight sky on fire for the new morning.
A crisp breeze hissed through the treetops and graced its way through the open studio carrying several dried leaves; it gently trailed along the curtains, winding along the floor to meet the mare. She leaned back into her arms and let the wind embrace her.
For the last few years, there was something so abusively wrong about what had happened... but Rarity felt a spark; something deep within her. She was finally able to set her sister free, from everything that hurt, and she was able to say goodbye. A seed was planted in her broken heart.
She closed her eyes once more.
For the first time in two years... Rarity smiled.
