On the tenth day, I stirred from what could pass for a relatively peaceful slumber, given the ongoing circumstances. The previous week had offered little reprieve between intensive language learning sessions. In the rare moments of rest, I found myself lost in contemplation. With each passing day, fragments of my memories slipped away, leaving behind a blurred recollection of a past life as a human male. The old name had faded, replaced entirely by Grey Nick, a moniker I had fully embraced.

Occasionally, my gaze fixated on the self-inflicted scars adorning the inner side of my front right fetlock. The pain was a vivid memory, but the reason behind such actions remained elusive. A sense of depression and hints of a past struggle with suicidal thoughts lingered in my mind. The motive behind those scars seemed murky, a puzzle I couldn't quite piece together.

As I redirected my thoughts from that dark abyss, they gravitated towards Grim Reminder. I couldn't help but recall the sharp angles of Grim's features, giving his face a chiseled and defined look. His charcoal coat held a sleekness that spoke of well-groomed care, contrasting with the unkempt wildness of my own. His eyes, though usually stern, had a depth that made me wonder about the emotions hidden beneath. I found myself drawn to the strong, silent presence he exuded, a curious mix of intimidation and comfort.

The mere contemplation of him sent warmth flushing to my face; he was a source of safety in this disorienting environment. Yet, the complexity of my emotions towards him remained a mystery. Romance seemed implausible, given the substantial age gap – he was at least fifteen years my senior. Besides, my pre-existing inclinations were clear: I wasn't into guys. Moreover, there was no stirring of emotions in other aspects when thoughts of him occupied my mind.

These musings were interrupted by the entrance of a familiar silver mare: Insightful Mind, the behavioral therapist. Her deep purple mane looked freshly washed, a contrast to my unkempt appearance.

"Good morning," she said, double-checking my name in her notes. "Grey." I sat up a little straighter to convey some semblance of manners. "How are we doing today?"

In the most unenthusiastic start to a session, I replied, "Alright, I guess," with a nonchalant shrug. Now that I could speak the language, I wanted to answer everything verbally. My response wasn't much of an answer, but her question wasn't much of a question. I wanted to cooperate so Grim would praise me, but she had already started to annoy me.

Her first real question came, "How did you generally cope with stress or difficult situations?" as she adjusted her glasses.

This caught me off guard; my current coping mechanism was crying, but there used to be something else. Not illegal, but perhaps frowned upon.

"I wasn’t sure," was the best I could offer. "I used to do something, but…I didn’t remember."

"You don’t remember?" Insightful pressed, jotting something down before moving on. "What activities or hobbies brought you a sense of comfort or joy?"

These questions were terrible. I didn't dignify that one with a response. Enjoyment in this facility? Idiot. My scowl prompted her to move on.

"Can you describe a time recently when you felt genuinely happy or content?"

"Next," I scowled again.

"How did you navigate through uncertainty or the unknown?"

"Hope for the best, next." Ask me a good question.

"What aspects of your current environment did you find calming or distressing?" Insightful appeared more nervous as my refusal to engage properly continued.

I persisted.

"Are there any particular Equestrian customs or traditions you found interesting or confusing?" she asked, adjusting her glasses.

This question intrigued me. "Saying ‘somepony’ and not ‘someone’ and the marks on your butts. And who’s Celestia?"

Insightful chuckled softly at my response, finding humor in my observation. "Yes, the use of 'somepony' is a common linguistic quirk here in Equestria. As for the marks on our flanks, those are called cutie marks. They represented a pony's special talent or skill, each one unique and holding personal meaning. Its a phenomenon observed for generations, a way ponies expressed individuality and contributions to the community. Now, about Celestia, she is the benevolent ruler of Equestria, a powerful and wise Alicorn who raises the sun and governs with harmony and friendship."

Celestia's supposed power over the sun fascinated and terrified me in equal measure. The idea of someone controlling such a cosmic force filled me with awe and fear. As I reflected on my imprisonment, an irrational fear crept in, perhaps Celestia was involved in EQUINE. Maybe she was in charge, personally ordered my abduction.

"But why 'somepony' and not 'someone'? Wasn't 'somepony' excluding others?" I shot back, shaking myself out of an axienty loop.

Insightful nodded, acknowledging my question. "That's an interesting perspective. 'Somepony' emphasizes the unity and shared experiences among the inhabitants of Equestria. It doesn't exclude others but reflects the close-knit nature of our communities. It's a linguistic choice that evolved into a cultural norm. We still consider and value inclusion, but 'somepony' has become a unique part of our language, encompassing the diverse species that call Equestria home."

I guess that made sense.

Before asking her next question, I heard Insightful audibly gulp. “What were your thoughts on Dr. Test Chambers and his actions?”

He could go to hell. My fur on the back of my neck stood on end, and I bared my ultra-sharp teeth at Insightful. "Get out." I growled.

The scared therapist wasted no time, leaving the room in a hurry, papers spilling as she went. She tried to pick them up, but my intense stare kept her moving.

As the door shut behind her, I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding, calming myself down. I let my anger get the better of me; maybe that was a human personality trait that lingered. Frustration set in as I grappled with memories that remained elusive.

Something else then growled; it was my stomach. Unsurprising, since I’d been there for a little over a week. Such time between meals hadn’t worried me when me and Mama lived in the Everfree, as it would be about the amount of time between hunts anyway. I did miss Mama, although I felt sorry for that lieutenant I bit. Skywing, I recalled. Thinking about my teeth sinking into her flesh and ripping a part off instinctively made me run my tongue along the outside of my sharp predatory teeth.

I needed meat, craved it even. I was too nervous to ask for it directly, though. After several more moments, I gained the courage to approach my door. I knocked a couple of times on the opaque door. What I thought was glass didn’t sound like it, so it had to be some kind of thick plexiglass.

“Um, excuse me?” I called out, getting no response. I pressed on with my request. “I’m hungry.”

Still nothing, but I had asked, so I walked back to my favorite corner and sat down on my haunches.

The sound of mechanical whirring caught my attention, and I turned towards the front wall. To my surprise, a small section slid open, revealing a tray of food. Hope surged within me as I approached it eagerly. My stomach rumbled in anticipation.

As I got closer, my excitement waned. The tray held an array of greens and vegetables, a sight that made my nose crinkle in disgust. I hesitated, torn between hunger and my instincts. I couldn't deny the scent of the food wafting towards me, but my body craved something substantial.

Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I reluctantly took a few bites of different items. Each mouthful felt foreign and unsatisfying. The textures were off, and the flavors clashed with my carnivorous palate. I tried to force myself to eat, but nothing tasted right.

"Fuck is this?" I muttered, the words escaping between clenched teeth. The vegetables crunched unappetizingly in my mouth.

With each forced bite, my frustration grew. This diet couldn't sustain me; I needed meat. The vegetables were a poor substitute for the nourishment my body craved. My stomach churned in protest, and I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness.

Finally, unable to tolerate it any longer, I turned my nose up at the remaining food and kicked the bowl away. The clang echoed in the sterile cell. I retreated to my corner, feeling a mix of disappointment and defiance. Either they give me meat or I starve first.

I awoke to another day, my stomach growling ominously. The hunger had become a constant companion, gnawing at me relentlessly. Days blurred together, and the trays of food that slid into my cell offered no reprieve. I approached each meal with a flicker of hope, only to be met with disappointment.

Still nothing but greens, the vegetarian fare left me unsatisfied and increasingly weak. Although initially not wanting to eat any of it I forced myself to the point of making myself sick. The last meal I ate I regurgitated, acidic bile followed it burning my esophagus.

I couldn't shake the feeling of lethargy settling into my bones. My limbs felt heavy, and my movements became sluggish. I tried to convince myself it was a temporary setback, that I could adapt to this foreign sustenance. But deep down, I knew I was wilting away.

As the days passed, frustration gave way to delusion. My mind played tricks on me, whispering that Grim no longer cared, that he reveled in my suffering. The irrational thoughts spiraled, and paranoia took root. I started questioning the motives of those around me, wondering if I was being deliberately subjected to this torturous diet.

I longed for Grim's presence, a reassurance that he hadn't abandoned me. But the days stretched on, and his visits became scarce. The flicker of hope that accompanied the sound of approaching hooves diminished, leaving me in a state of perpetual uncertainty.

Nausea still clawed at my insides, the physical manifestation of my body's rejection of the imposed diet. The once-familiar ache of hunger transformed into a relentless, sickening torment. I curled up in my corner, the cold walls of the cell pressing in on me.

The world outside my enclosure seemed to blur, and the illusion of indifference haunted my thoughts. I couldn't discern reality from delusion, and the vegetative prison threatened to consume not just my body but my sanity. Fatigue draped over me, pulling my eyelids down as I blinked slowly, the world blurring into a haze. The absence of Grim intensified, and the weariness magnified the sense of abandonment.

Author's Note

Bam, another one. Still short but I want to get as much as I can out to make up for lost time.