White Painted Walls

by applezombi

Rating: teen
Tags: Profanity, Dark, Sonata Dusk, Narcotics, Drama, Adagio Dazzle, Suicide / Self Harm, Equestria Girls
Length: 1085

Adagio Dazzle has lost control of her own life.

When the Rainbooms beat the Dazzlings, the sirens became normal girls.

Nobody except one of the Dazzlings could really understand what this meant.

Some people thrive when handed unexpected adversity. Some people grow. Others fall into a black, bottomless pit. Sometimes they never crawl out.

Written for the Thousand Words Contest 2024, in the Drama category.

Published 2024-07-10 05:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-10 05:20:00 UTC

Chapter 1

Walls painted white were never really white.

There was always a subtle, almost microscopic texture to them. Flaws in the paint, brushstrokes, little bits that caught the light and cast shadow.

And then there was what the paint hid. Poorly patched holes where there’d been damage. Chips in the drywall. Gouges where the bed frame had rubbed wrong. Yellowed bits where tobacco smoke stains had been painted over. A few faded black marks where the room’s last occupant had gotten… creative on the walls with a pack of broken crayons.

Crayons.

Not pencils or pens. Those were too dangerous.

The thought made Adagio Dazzle roll her eyes.

Danger. She was a danger. To herself. To others.

No shit. What else did you call trying to drown yourself in sweet poison? What else were you supposed to do when you were immortal, and then suddenly…not? Death had been the point, but for some reason these stupid primitive monkeys didn’t like that.

So she stared at the wall, the wall that was never really white. And let time do what they wouldn’t let her do with alcohol.

The first time Sonata came to visit, Adagio was still in the hospital. Awake in the technical sense, but not much more than that.

A miracle, somebody had said. Adagio didn’t remember who.

Should have died.

Irretrievable coma.

Possible permanent damage.

She hadn’t said anything to Sonata then. Just stared at the hospital wall. Eggshell white, but not really.

The second time Sonata came to visit, Adagio refused to see her. Maybe it was anger, but Adagio couldn’t have pinned down exactly what to be angry about. The fact that the doctors in the hospital had told her she was being involuntarily committed? That Sonata had arranged it? That Sonata had shown up to visit with that Sparkle girl?

Maybe all of the above.

But Adagio didn’t feel anger. She barely felt anything.

So why did she refuse?

The third time, she agreed.

The rehab had a cafeteria. It reminded Adagio of Canterlot High, but even more annoyingly bright. Big windows let in too much sunlight, and patients congregated at round plastic tables in oversaturated colors, laughing and chatting with whatever imbeciles had deigned to come visit the pathetic addicts who were pretending to get healthy, painting over their failures with whitewashed smiles and white lies until they could get out and get to their drug of choice again.

It was so much like high school it made her sick.

At least revulsion was something she still could feel.

Sonata came alone, though Adagio was sure Sonata would have been happier if that Sparkle girl was with her. Adagio would have refused if that had been the case, though.

Sonata looked healthier than the last time Adagio had seen her. The bruises and cuts Aria had left, before the officers could take her away, had all faded. Her clothing, once ragged and tattered, was clean and new. And she looked happy.

Sonata made her way to the table Adagio waited at and sat. The two of them waited, neither one saying a word for several minutes, letting the sounds of other families pretending to be happy wave over them.

Adagio knew it was fake.

“How have you been?” Sonata asked, finally breaking the silence.

Adagio stared blankly.

“You look… better,” she continued. She’d been about to say good.

Adagio laughed bitterly. “Nobody looks good with a tube coming out of their throat.”

Sonata nodded. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“Why’d you come, Sonata? Why bother?”

“We’re family.”

Adagio scoffed. “You were never family. You were a tool I used, until it didn’t matter any longer. Until nothing mattered any longer.” Her voice sounded empty, even to herself.

Sonata was quiet.

“Offended?” Adagio laughed.

Sonata shook her head. “No. I just never expected you to admit it.”

Something in Adagio twitched. Her hands shook a lot these days, though less than when she first was forced clean.

But this wasn’t that kind of twitch.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It’s a surprise,” Sonata said. “For you to admit what you did to me. To both of us.”

“Are you looking for an apology?” Adagio hissed. “You won’t get one.”

“No,” Sonata said softly. “There’s nothing you have that I want.”

Adagio twitched again. Sonata sounded confident. Sure of herself. When had that…

That Sparkle girl. It was her fault. Hers, and Sunset, and the rest of the sweet sappy saccharine sisterhood. They’d taken her sister, and had twisted her, turned Sonata into…

A happy, confident, self-assured, healthy woman.

The revulsion surged up Adagio’s throat, like bile. Acidic and raw.

It took a long time until she was done throwing up, hunched over a scuffed battered trash can.

Something was touching her, holding back her limp, stringy orange hair.

Sonata.

“Don’t touch me.” It was a raw growl, drug up from the depths of Adagio’s gut; a perfect complement to the bitter flavor in her throat. She slashed clumsily with one hand, and Sonata danced away.

When did Sonata get to be so graceful, while Adagio stumbled around like…

…like a drunken idiot?

She stumbled back into her chair. Her fingers, arched like claws, gripped at the edge of the table so hard her knuckles were white.

Sonata’s last words echoed in her mind. A mantra, a chant, hushed words repeated over and over until they lost meaning. It reminded Adagio of the whisper of a paintbrush.

There’s nothing you have that I want.

“Get out,” she whispered. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Sonata stood, leaving, and looked down at Adagio one last time.

There was pity in Sonata’s eyes.

Adagio felt sick again. She needed a drink.

It wasn’t possible. Sonata couldn’t pity her. Sonata couldn’t change. Sonata couldn’t…

…couldn’t be happy. It had to be fake. It wasn’t allowed.

White paint hiding the flaws on the wall.

When she looked up, Sonata had already left, leaving only the taste of bile in Adagio’s mouth.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading!

While this story stands on it's own (I think) it is technically a sequel to the first pony fanfic I ever wrote, Consonance and Dissonance. While I believe I've improved much as a writer since I first wrote that story, I'm still proud of it, and have always meant to get back to that world. So if you're interested in the sequence of events that led us here, please check it out!