Perhaps

Chapter 4: Surprise

I feel the eyes boring into the back of my head as I walk down the road. It’s only been a few weeks since I’ve seen her, but everypony’s made it feel like years. The constant talking, the hateful looks, the barrage of insults thrown my way. I haven’t heard anything from her, which doesn’t shock me, but I know she hasn’t talked to me very much since that night, since the storm. I guess I’ve been a loner all my life, but it’s only now that others are truly making me feel alone.

Rain doesn’t understand what has me so down, or why the whole town has turned against me. She’s too young to really get it; she’s never been in love. There’s a difference between knowing you’re in love and knowing the same of somepony else.

The night Surprise kissed me was the worst of my life. It wasn’t the kiss itself, but my reaction. The next morning would have been a blur if not for the conversation that had followed.

“I love you,” Surprise said softly.

The kiss had lasted an eternity; I had wanted it end sooner. It felt great while it was happening; I wasn’t thinking of her. I looked at her, dumbstruck; I was shocked that she would make a move so bold, and I wanted the moment to cease. Above all, the previous night had been a time of—not weakness—but stupidity on my part. I don’t know what she did to make me so afraid of committing to her, but I was.

“Please leave,” I replied.

She was clearly hurt. “What?”

I swallowed the pain in my voice as I said, “I want you to leave, now.”

“Don’t you love me, too?”

“No,” I said, too quickly. Tears now ran freely down her cheeks.

She couldn’t speak, and I didn’t want her to. I was in love, but not with her. Surprise, while nice, was too unpredictable, too eccentric, if you will. I was looking for stability, and she didn’t have that.

It was still painful for me, and I wanted her to leave so we could suffer apart, but I couldn’t tell her that. Better to let her believe I didn’t love her at all.

I return home after buying some basics in town. Rain’s there with Gilda, of course. The griffin sees me and immediately sobers her language up; I don’t mind cussing, but I decided not to tell her that. Sort of a game we play: she pushes my limits, and I ask how her parents are. This strikes a chord with her every time, with her mom being dead and her dad in prison for killing his wife. Although I do understand having a crap father, she chose to push it there. About a month ago, she figured out my pattern and took to keeping her insults to herself. I announce that dinner will be ready in a few, and Gilda leaves.

“Lightning,” Rain pipes up, “why do you two hate each other so much?”

I chuckle. “Because we both want to say more than we can, and it always involves more than you’re ready to hear right now.”

“But I can handle anything! I’m almost as fast as you now!!”

“I know, Rain, and I’m proud of that. However, Gilda and I can both remember our dads, and neither of us have fond memories of them. You’re not ready to hear what dad was like, so don’t ask!” I stopped her just as she was opening her mouth to ask what I meant.

“I can handle whatever you have to say about him. I’ve heard enough already,” Rain says with a hint of venom in her voice.

A flash of terror crosses my face. “What do you mean by that?”

She notices the panic in my voice, because she responds slowly. “You talk in your sleep. You’ve said some things about him.”

“What things?”

“Things…just small words and phrases. I couldn’t understand any of them, but I know they were bad because of the way you said them. What does all of that mean?”

I take a deep breath. “Like I said: you’re not ready for that yet. Maybe when you’re a bit older.”

She finally drops the subject and asks to go over to visit Fluttershy. I agree and fly her over there. That’s when I decide that I have to see Surprise again and try to make amends before it’s too late. I know it will be an awkward visit, but the thought of telling Rain what her father was, and still is to me, is more terrifying than anything else to me.

As I near Surprise’s home, I can’t help but feel the looks on me: the same hate drilling the back of my skull as the past several months. Nothing could prepare me for what I am about to do. I am about to ask forgiveness from the mare whose heart I shattered into pieces. I am about to ask her to forget the pain I’ve invariably caused her. And what am I offering in return? Nothing. I still don’t love her as anything more than a friend. All I want to do is beg for her to at least not want me dead.

“If you are convinced that my death is the only thing that could possibly bring you happiness, why shouldn’t I kill myself? It would make sense, after all. I was evil to you, and an evil deed begets more evil. Maybe that’s the fate I should receive…”

I knock on the door. There is no answer, so I stay for a few minutes.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

I decide enough is enough and go home, leaving a note on the porch. I look back and see it swiftly disappear under the door.

A few days later, I am able to bring myself to try again. I walk up to her house, only to find a note on the door.

“LR, it’s unlocked.”

I calmly walk in, even though my heart is beating a mile a minute. Why would she just let me in like that? Have I earned her forgiveness already? I decide that that’s impossible; she must simply want to talk, maybe sort things out on where we are. I desperately want to apologize to her face to face.

“I have considered you a dear friend for many years, and you have been a constant in my life for a long time. I have no excuse for my behavior that night. I can only ask plead beg for your forgiveness. You don’t leave your house, so I can’t tell you how sorry I am in person. If you will only forgive me, then I’ll be happy. I can’t offer anything except my time in helping you heal.”

I slowly walk upstairs and hear high-pitched crying. The color disappears from my mane as memories of my childhood flood my mind. I keep going. Luckily, the crying is close enough that I only have to pass one door upstairs before entering her room.

The room is dark. I can’t see a thing past my own nose. When I turn on the lights, everything hits me at once.

I see two young fillys, crying in the corner. I see a broken mirror, several dozen broken bottles of what I can only assume is vodka. I hear the stillness in the air as the fillys quiet down. I see Surprise lying down on the bed.

I see a piece of the mirror next to her.

I see the blood around her wrists…

I scream……

Author’s Note: Well, I’m back to the sadness. I hope you guys like this better than the last chapter, but that was mostly filler material, so forgive me. Oh, and I think I’ve figured out where the rest of this story is going, so expect a more coherent progression of the chapters from here on out! ☺