I Am Alone

I was rudely awakened by the sound of depressurisation as the glass sliding door to my padded cell opened. I sat up groggily and rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my head. Dr. Chambers stood in the doorway, his horn glowing with magic as he levitated a clipboard and pen in front of him.

"Good morning, subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," he said with a condescending tone. "Time for some basic measurements and tests."

I didn't say anything, knowing that any protest or complaint would likely fall on deaf ears. I stood up and followed him out of the cell, feeling a sense of dread wash over me.

Dr. Chambers began with simple measurements of my height, weight, and general health. As he scribbled notes on his clipboard, he muttered to himself about my abnormal cognitive abilities.

"This is fascinating," he said, more to himself than to me. "We'll have to do some more in-depth testing later."

After what felt like hours of prodding and poking, Dr. Chambers finally finished with a dismissive wave of his hoof.

"Back to your cell, subject," he commanded, tossing the clipboard onto a nearby table. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

I turned to leave, feeling the weight of the tests and Dr. Chambers' scrutiny weighing heavily on me. As I stepped back into my padded cell, I noticed that Grim was nowhere to be seen.

"Where Gwim?" I asked, but Dr. Chambers simply ignored me as he closed and locked the door behind me.

As the hours passed, I was visited in my cell by a kind-looking older mare.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Insightful Mind. I’m a behavioural specialist.” She introduced herself in a soothing voice. I noticed she didn’t address me as either a subject or by my name though.

She had a sleek, silver-coloured coat and her mane and tail were a deep shape of purple. Her mark was that of a lightbulb inside a thought bubble, probably fitting considering her occupation. She also wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

I assumed she was here to attempt to gain insight into my grasp of language.

“Can you tell me what this object is?” Dr. Mind asked, holding up a pen.

I took a deep breath and tried my best to articulate the word I wanted to say, “P-p-p-p-p-en,” cringing at my stuttering pronunciation.

The Doctor simply nodded, and wrote something down. The next test she gave me was a large flash card with something written on it.

“Can you read this word?”

My only response I could give was to shake my head and look down, ashamed that I couldn’t read.

Dr. Mind didn’t seem to mind, “That’s okay,” she assured me, “we can move on,” she said, flipping through more cards.

I could only guess that they were trying to understand my cognitive abilities and limitations.

Next she presented me with a card with a photograph of a group of ponies working together to build a bridge. “Now, can you explain what is happening in this picture?”

Answering that question required a lot more words, so I thought to myself what words I could subtract and substitute to get the idea across. Dr. Mind saw the cogs turning in my head and wrote something down.

“P-p-po-nies b-b-buil’ bwi’ge.”

Dr. Mind smiled in affirmation at me and gave me another card, a picture of a pegasus with a sad expression.

“What might this pony be feeling in this picture?”

I attempted to answer this question with a gesture of my hooves, bringing them in front of my face below my eyes and rotating the pasterns. “S-s-a’, ‘ry.” Sad. Cry.

She seemed surprised by my attempt at sign language. I was unsure if it was the same here, but I knew she understood the general intent. Some other small questions were asked here and there, but I still struggled to articulate my thoughts into coherent words, despite knowing what I wanted to say. I understood her use of complex words, but was unable to use them myself or even complete sentences. It was frustrating not being able to fully communicate, but I tried my best.

Dr. Insightful Mind, happy and mildly surprised at my intelligence, gave me a nod and left. The glass door soon closed downward again. I went back to my corner and waited for the next intrusion.

I was left alone in my damn room again, the glass screen sealed tight behind her. I couldn’t help but feel the weight of my fucking isolation, like a physical force bearing down on me. They treated me like a child, like a fucking experiment. I couldn’t take this shit anymore. It was like they didn't even see me as a pony. I wanted to scream and punch something, but I didn't have fists. I just wanted to curse and curse and curse until my voice gave out.

I was not a child. I was a grown man trapped in the body of a pony, trapped in this facility like a prisoner. The anger and frustration boiled up inside me, threatening to burst from me. But I knew I couldn’t show them that. I had to be calm and cooperative, or they might see me as a threat.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. It wasn't easy, but I tried to focus on my breathing, on the rise and fall of my chest. It was a small comfort, but it helped a little.

I wondered how long I would be stuck here, how long I would have to endure this isolation and confinement. It felt like forever already, and it had only been a single day. I could feel myself losing my mind, and I didn't know how to stop it.

Fuck this damn facility, and fuck all these cunts who thought they knew what was best for me. I wasn’t an animal to be poked and prodded. I was a person, or at least I used to be. Now, I'm just a shell of who I used to be, trapped in this tiny room with nothing but my thoughts and memories.

I tried to hold onto the memories of my past life, but they were slipping away from me. Sometimes I felt like I was losing myself, like I was becoming more pony than human. But that was impossible, right? I was just trapped in this body, in this room, with no way out.

I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, it would be better if I was dead. At least then I wouldn't have to suffer like this, wouldn't have to feel the crushing weight of loneliness and despair every day. But I knew that wasn't the answer anymore. I had to keep fighting, keep holding on to whatever shreds of hope I had left.

But it's hard. So, so hard. And I don't know how much longer I can do it.

I paced back and forth in my small room, feeling trapped and powerless. The walls felt like they were closing in on me, suffocating me. I needed to get out of here, to escape this prison. But how? I was just a filly, and they had all the power.

I let out a frustrated snort, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't help it. I felt so alone, so powerless, so...small.

I was bored out of my mind. I've already paced around the room countless times, but there's nothing to see, nothing to do. It's just a padded cell. That's it. No books, no games, no television. Not even a bed. Just me and my thoughts.

I walk over to the glass screen and try to peer through it, but I can't see much. The angle is wrong, and the glass was frosted. All I can make out are some shapes moving around, but I can't see who or what they are.

I strain my ears, trying to make out any sounds, and I hear something. It's muffled, but I can tell it's a voice. A female voice, murmuring to herself. I press my ear against the glass and try to listen closer.

It takes a few moments, but I finally made out what she's saying. "...flying monkeys...toaster...never trust...five o'clock...where's my cheese...?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion as the voice faded in and out, spouting nonsense, gibberish, and madness. The words became less distinct and less comprehensible by the moment.

Eventually, I found myself sitting in my cell, staring blankly at the padded walls. That was when I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, I saw a group of scientists and orderlies carrying a small plastic cup with what looked like a tablet rattling around inside.

"What's that?" I asked, warily eyeing the cup.

"It's medication," one of the scientists replied.

"Don’ wan’," I said firmly, crossing my fetlocks over my chest.

"Please cooperate, Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," another scientist said, his voice stern.

"No!" I shouted, leaping up and darting towards the corner of my cell. But it was too late, the staff were too quick for me. They grabbed me and held me down like I was some common household mutt. I tried to fight them off, but it was no use. They shoved the tablet down my throat. They covered my mouth and nose, forcing me to swallow. It's bitter, and I hated it. Before I can even think about biting them, they've already left. I'm left hacking, coughing, and sobbing on the floor.

I felt violated, helpless and angry. How dare they force me to take something I didn't want! Especially medication, I had no idea what I had just taken.

I tried to get up from the ground, but my head spun, and my legs refused to cooperate. I held onto the wall, trying to find some semblance of balance, but it didn't help. I heard footsteps approaching, and I looked up to see Dr. Chambers standing before me with a smug grin on his face.

"You should have taken the medication voluntarily, Subject Seven-Nine-Seven-Nine," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Now, you'll feel the consequences."

I try to muster a response, but the words don't come out right. My tongue feels heavy, and my thoughts are muddled. I can feel a haze creeping over me, making it hard to think.

Dr. Chambers watches me for a moment longer before turning to leave. As he walks away, I hear him chuckle softly to himself.

As I sat there on the cold, rubbery floor, I suddenly felt the world shift around me. It was as if the walls of my padded cell were closing in on me, squeezing the breath out of me. My heart started to race, pounding in my chest like a trapped animal desperate to escape. My hooves shook uncontrollably as a feeling of panic washed over me.

I tried to stand up, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. They felt heavy and numb, as if they were made of lead. I stumbled and fell back onto the floor, feeling helpless and trapped. The room seemed to spin around me, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

I tried to call out for help, but my voice was weak and slurred. My tongue felt all numb, and I couldn't form the words I needed to ask for help. I could hear the sound of my own breathing, ragged and uneven, as if I was struggling for air.

As the minutes ticked by, the feeling of panic and helplessness intensified. It was as if I was drowning in a sea of confusion and fear, with no way to escape. I couldn't even remember why I was here, or how long I had been trapped in this padded cell.

Finally, exhausted and terrified, I lay there on the floor, waiting for the effects of whatever they had given me to wear off. But deep down, I knew that things would never be the same again.

As I slowly come to, my head throbbing and my eyes bleary, I try to recall what happened. My memories are hazy and disjointed, as if I had been dreaming or under the influence of something. It takes me a few moments to realise that I'm lying on the padded floor in the cell, and that there is a pony standing over me.

She was a unicorn with a cream-coloured coat and a mane and tail that was a mix of soft pink and lavender. Her cutie mark was a speech bubble with musical notes inside. She introduced herself as Melody Maker, a speech therapist, and told me that the staff at the facility have requested that she work with me to improve my communication skills. I gave her a half-hearted scowl and remained silent.

Melody seems unfazed and starts to explain how she can help me. "Grey, I know it's difficult for you to speak right now, but I'm here to help you. We can start with some simple exercises to get your vocal cords moving again. Just try to say 'ahhh' for me."

She at least calls me by my name, genuine enough I guess. But I can't help but wonder if she is just another one of their ploys to try and break me. Still, I give her the silent treatment, refusing to even acknowledge her presence.

I still refuse to speak, but Melody persists. "Come on, Grey. You can do it. Just one 'ahhh' sound. That's all I'm asking for."

My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, but I try to make a sound. It comes out weak and strained. Melody seems pleased, but I'm not. I don't trust her or anyone else in this place. I'm sure she's only pretending to help me.

Undeterred, Melody speaks to me in a soothing voice and asks simple questions about my day and interests, trying to put me at ease. However, I barely listen, as my mind feels hazy from the drugs they gave me, and my thoughts are jumbled. Despite her efforts, Melody realizes that I'm not cooperating and promises to return later.

As she departs, a wave of isolation and despair washes over me, leaving me alone with my tumultuous thoughts and simmering anger. Despite Melody's earlier attempts to connect with me, I am left with a sense of futility and little hope for any progress. As the door closes behind her, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she truly wanted to help me. But in this place, how can I trust anyone?

I laid down on the mattress-like floor, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened that day. My eyelids felt heavy as I drifted off.

I’m weightless again, floating. Lost and disoriented. Blurry shapes tower over me. Humans?

They get fuzzier and fuzzier. I can't make them out.

A photograph appears, burning from the inside out.

Memories fading.

Reach out, to hold on. Hand passes through the flames.

Frustration, anger, and fear.

Darkness. Total darkness.

Someone is watching.

I jolt awake, heart racing. How long have I been asleep? Hours? Days? It's impossible to tell in this place. I stretch out my limbs, feeling the stiffness in my joints.

I stand up and pace around my cell, examining every inch of the dirty cream walls. There's nothing new to see, nothing that can give me any clues as to where I am or why I'm here.

I glance up at one of the top corners and see a camera staring back at me. My stomach drops as my ears fold back and a feeling of paranoia washes over me. Are they watching me right now? Are they listening to my every move and thought?

I force myself to swallow the feeling and look away, continuing to pace. I need to keep my mind occupied, to avoid spiralling into panic.

What do they want from me? What did I do to deserve this? What if this pony had a life before me? What if it had its own thoughts, feelings, memories? Did I take over someone else's body? Am I a thief, a usurper? The thought of it fills me with guilt and dread. Was this why I was being punished?

I need to stay focused, to find a way out of here. But first, I need to figure out where "here" is.

I flinched at the sound of the door opening, and Grim Reminder walked in. "Good afternoon," he said in his deep voice.

"Af-ter-n-noon," I repeated, struggling with the hard syllables. I tried to sit up and appear strong.

"You need to do as you’re told," Grim said, his expression unreadable.

"I-I-I t-twy," I stuttered, feeling frustrated with my own inability to form the proper words.

Grim sighed. "I understand this must be difficult for you, but it's important that we get accurate information." He knelt down, to my level. "We're trying to help you." I noticed a flicker of warmth in his eyes, hidden beneath the usual cold exterior. It was a brief moment, but it gave me a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could trust him.

I tried to explain what had happened, but my speech impediment made it hard to form the words. Grim listened patiently, but I could tell he didn't fully understand.

"I'll look into it," he said finally. "In the meantime, please try to cooperate with us. It's for your own good… Grey."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me feeling even more hopeless and alone than before.