Author's Note

I do not condone self harm or ponies self harming themselves.

Parts of this are based on real life events that occurred a very long time ago and are not meant to glorify the pain caused to ponies or ponies around them.

Readers discretion is advised.

"Go cut yourself"

I hate it when they talk to me.

A filly just shy of being a mare sat on a destroyed mattress outside of Stable City. She had hidden it from the horrors of the wasteland not saved by the gardens of Equestria, existing, technically, outside of Equestrian lands. sand billowed in the desert below as she stared down at the crags, reminding her of the last thing she heard when talking with her co-workering ponies.

Go cut yourself. You are useless, you are a waste of food, you are a waste of space, and you are a waste of life. Go cry to your brother and have him arrest me, you won't, stupid quiet bitch. Everyone wants you dead White Arc, even your friends. They just pretend to like you. Make sure you cut vertical when you do so you actually die, slut.

White Arc had not said anything. But when there was a chance for a break she put up her papers and stepped out, using a path she knew to get down from the walls and gate and head to her hiding place. Chems were not allowed within Stable city, but that had never stopped her from getting high. Indeed, it had actually helped her get high by flying under the radar. Right now she had a match in her levitation, using it to light the end of some paper and watching it begin to smoke before putting it up to her maw and taking a deep drag off of it. The sting of thick smoke and the choking feeling of not having enough air left her nostrils as she gave a little cough. She had never, quite, gotten used to that feeling. White Arc looked down at the crags around her mattress. She had arranged some of these in pleasing shapes that hid supplies she kept here. water, non perishable munchies food, and inside the mattress, more chems than a raider army could survive.

Sometimes I think about killing myself but Goddess Littlepip would not like that. I wonder if I did kill myself, would I see her?

White Arc said nothing and glared at the ground as she took out a half dose of psycho. She liked to space out the two doses so that she could get high and as she began to come down, she could inject the second vial. There was something pleasing about extending the pain, the horrible pain of losing control, but only just so much as to make sure it hurts.

Maybe they know about my stash? No, I'd be arrested. They just hate me. But they aren't wrong, extending the harm...

White Arc looked down at her Stable-Tec S-17 uniform. the sleeves went all the way down... maybe....

Looking sideways White Arc dug under the mattress for a straight razor she knew was there. pulling out a bottle of Maritime Bay Rum, she ran some over the razor, shining it to a sheen on a dusty but clean part of her mattress. Once clean, she rolled up her sleeve, looking downwards before dropping the razor.

No, what the fuck am I doing? This is absolutely insane. Would Goddess Littlepip hurt herself?

"Oh," but White Arc felt her mind speak back. "Oh but she did hurt herself. for her friends. For the world. She was wounded for it's inequities, and she she took it with bravery. Even when nopony cared if she did so. Even when nopony loved her if she did so. Especially when nopony loved her. She fought for what was right. and it would feel so right to-"

White Arc looked down at the razor in the sand of the desert scattered on the crag rocks she sat in. No. No. NO NO NO!

"Did Goddess Littlepip say no to fighting the darkness of her time? You must bleed if you are to be a hero like her. a lesbian like her. To know what she knows. To be as she is. Take it. Take your razor."

As if compelled, White Arc fumbled and got more of the Maritime Bay Rum and ran it over the razor until it was totally clean, pulling up her left forehoof sleeve with her mouth and holding it back as she put the razor into her hoof, using levitation to hold it and her hoof to balance it.

Just like when stallions made fun of fillies first estrus. Bleed, bitch, bleed.

White Arc did not instantly draw the blade across her hoof. She fought back against the voice, against her entire body quivering. It would be so easy to let that red line appear, let it run over her soft white coat, let it soak into her white fur, drip onto her black and white tail. Let the world run with crimson and scarlet.

I do not want to hurt myself.

White arc fought against the voice as she stared at her foreleg. She knew she would not do it. She could not do it. She would never do this. She needed her chems. She needed her Goddess Littlepip. She was such a big fan of her that she would-

"Oh mother bucker you thrice damned goddess scarred desert blasted-" White Arc began to use words after this unbecoming of a filly, and as much as she tried to recall later what she said, the words escaped her recollection. Suffice to say, she knew it hurt. the wound cut deep and was dripping onto the mattress, staining it in blood as she began to panic. she looked around at her psycho and found some bandages but stopped, realizing she needed to clean the wound first. Grabbing the Maritime Bay Rum, she poured some out onto her wound.

A few rocks fell down the crags as a pony's scream rent the airwaves, disturbing the desolation with the fulfilled anticipation of agony from the immolation of the flesh. White Arc chanted horrible curses unbecoming of a mare to herself as she bandaged the wound, crying as tears joined the blood stains as she saw red ooze through bandages, wrapping them tighter and thicker as she held her forehoof, her weeping open and bare to the wastes below.

"Need to make it stop-" White Arc told herself, scrounging around for medicine and then holding back. What was the point of hurting yourself if you didn't have scars to show it? White Arc slowed, looking back at her other hooves. Yes, she'd show them. She would show them all.

White Arc held the Straight razor aloft, looking at her side. Yes. There was so much crimson and scarlet to be spilt. So much pain to be had. She was in love with the pain, it was how she felt when ponies hit her! She loved being hit, she loved other ponies! She loved the feeling of slicing and ripping and tearing and feeling firewater run over her wounds!

eeerraagha!

White Arc grabbed the straight razor and turned almost like a dog and struck at her flank, cutting a wound so deep that she saw blood spurt out and hit the wall, as if an artery had been hit. at the same time light hit her eyes and she dropped the razor, blinded by the light hitting it and by her flank. There was what felt like a shockwave over her body, and suddenly, it was as if nothing had happened. White Arc sat up and looked at herself. In place of her wound was no blood, not a single cut at all. There was a long red gash running downward, from the tip of where her buttocks started down almost the knee of her leg. next to it was what looked like a scythe, but was actually an opened straight razor, showing a red mark that looked like a long, deep gash.

If that had happened I'd be dead...

White Arc stared at the mark, as it began to set in what had happened. She was alive. and she had her cutie mark. it looked just like her foreleg had before she had rendered it asunder.

"I survived." White Arc collapsed, still feeling stinging agony from her forehoof and staring between it and her cutie mark. "I HAVE MY CUTIE MARK!"

White Arc jumped up in joy, grabbing the psycho and injecting before taking the Maritime Bay rum and finishing the bottle by downing it all in one go before collapsing on the mattress, laughing to herself in happiness. but as she stopped laughing the pain set back in, the agony of her life was back. she had only a short few moments she could carry in her self inflicted pain back to her life. A limited happiness that allowed her to continue with her life.

"Every time I leave." White Arc pledged allowed to herself, looking down at her foreleg. "I will give myself a reason to live. For Goddess Littlepip! For lesbianism-- whatever that is, and for Equestria!"

White Arc levitated up her straight razor, beaming at it and thinking about all the new memories they had to make together. She had never felt so happy. She had also never felt so drunk before, but that was beside the point in her mind. Taking out all the chems she had, she popped three mint-als, looking at an even more special drug. "Eccelerate your life!"

White Arc injected the E-Xell into herself, beaming as she fell over and felt her luck stat rise. She was so lucky she had only one chem addiction she didn't even know about. but the E-Xell faded very fast, and she felt her luck seem to vanish entirely. The zero luck mare looked out at the wastes and tuckered her chems back into the mattress. It was time to go back to work. At least now she had two fun things for her life. A cutie mark to make sure she was no longer bullied, and a scar to give her pain all day and remind her of what true freedom was like.

Even as a glorified slave, White Arc was now a free mare. Nopony would ever take that away from her. She carried her head high, feeling the warmth she associated with Goddess Littlepip wash over her as she trotted straight past the guards, not even bothering to hide as she returned to her post. She didn't care if they knew she had left her post. She was a free pony. She was free to harm herself. She was free to be herself. She was free to love her goddess Littlepip. She was a free mare, working her dead end job as a slave in a society that would never accept her.

But no matter what they did, nopony would ever truly take away her freedom. She gave a smile as she sorted some paperwork, smudging the ink just a tiny bit. Good. The ink reminded her of her blood, running freely.

Running like a free mare in her substances and self harm from her horrific life in Equestria after the Fallout, with no heros to save these ponies.