She sat on the ground next to her bed. It was mid day but she never opened the curtains. A softened glow lit the room. She had another headache. They usually came paired with illusions. This one was particularly bad. The headaches never went away on their own either. She learned to give in to the demands shouting in her head, otherwise the headaches would get worse. Although the visions would eventually subside, the migraines never did. They always lingered, constantly changing in intensity. On a good day she would almost forget it even existed just for it to return at night.
Her best friend was presumed dead three months earlier. Once a week she would go to the Everfree to collect flowers for her perfumes. The day it happened she was last seen leaving the city with her apothecary’s satchel. It was speculated that she was overcome by a pack of timberwolves.
The mare was devastated by the news. They were engaged a mere week earlier. The only happiness left in her life was ripped away, as with nearly everything else. Before her marefriend's death she barely ever used the perfume. Now, every morning she used only the smallest bit to make the supply last. A tinge of scent gave her a constant reminder of the horrible events, but also of her marefreinds face, her body. Three small bottles were left. She could make the supply last for years if she was careful. She never showed an interest in how it was made. The recipe was secret now withheld by a grave.
Her condition did not start with the death, but was exaggerated by it. Her marefriend was her only coping mechanism. Every two weeks she went to the pharmacy to refill her pain killers. The pills were supposed to reduce the effect of the headaches, but since her loss they had no effect. The amber bottles accumulated in her bathroom. She looked up to see her friend standing there, looking back with a warm smile. She reached out for an embrace, her hooves cut right through. The image dissolved in space. She slumped back, buried her head in the sheets, and began to weep. Heavy breathing. Heart pounding. The pressure in her head was agonizing now.
Voices began to torment her. Not a single word recognizable, yet all disturbing. Some whispered, while others shouted. Most of them were hauntingly distant. They molded her dark thoughts. All of them pointing to her to her enduring unhappiness. She lifted her head to find her friend towering over her. Gashes on her neck grew wider and wider. Deep red blood ran down her body. Her expression changed from lovingness to anger as she began curing obscenities. Her friend leaned closer and blood began to flow from her muzzle. The drops stained the sheets and filled the room with a strong metallic scent. Blood pooled in her throat, choking, gurgling, preventing words from escaping her mouth. They could still be heard.
Her friend continued to lean closer. Blood shot from the spatting caught in her eyes. At once her friend dissolved again, this time the room and all it’s furnishings went with it. Now all she saw was red. Closing her eyes only made the color more vibrant. Whispers grew to screams. Sounds of freight trains. Horrendous sounds grew exponentially. She squeezed her temples with her hooves hoping to block out the noise, it only swelled. She felt her heart beating in her hooves now. Red shifted to blue, then green, and all sorts of colors. Disorderly patterns also introduced themselves. The visions never stop. The noise heightened to a constant screeching pitch as she grew light headed. The screams were not in her imagination. It was her who was making the noise. At this realization she attempted to roar long enough to pass out.
—
She awoke to a comforting silence. Her headache continued to pound. She was drenched in sweat and tears. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was positioned facing her ceiling. Blindness subsided, but presented a new phenomena. The ceiling was covered with arrows. They were neon pink, the same color of her eyes. Every arrow seemed to direct toward one point. Looking to her side, not only were there arrows on the ceiling, but everything else in the room. Covering her sheets, lamp, carpet, neon pink arrows covered every surface and object. There must have been thousands of them. Each one pointed to the bathroom door.
Curiously, she made her way to the door. It felt like a carnival game, hunting for a prize with colorful arrows guiding the way. Upon opening, she was met with another surprise. The arrows also covered the interior of the bathroom with a dim pink haze. All still led to one thing. Her medication bottles were glowing with a blinding aura of golden light. She slowly continued forward. Each step felt like an earthquake. Her heart continued to pound harder. Each in line with her movement. Her attention fixated on the bottles.
This was the culmination of her meaningless life. Innocence lost at a young age and happiness torn from her arms. 27 years. She would not be remembered, she would not be missed. Her headache ceased. With a clear mind and a shaky hoof she grabbed the first bottle. Taking it one at a time was not enough. It all went down at once. She was haste and didn’t count how many times she did it. When there were none left she lay flat on the tile floor surrounded by caps and empty plastic bottles.
Now, instead of pointing at the bottles, Every arrow pointed directly at her. The bottles no longer contained the heavenly glow, but were cased in fresh arrows. She felt nothing and stared into space. A single tear ran down her cheek. The neon haze gradually grew brighter to a blinding white. A sterile scent from the floor confronted her as now her time had come. A black void slowly wrapped around her.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading! please leave a comment and let me know what you think. This was my first time writing anything like this.
