I sat at the counter of my kitchen, poking a bowl of honey nut oats with a spoon, when I suddenly hear a knock at my door. I get up, walk over and answer to find my friend Ellie on my porch. "Hey, Script!" she said with a smile. "You ready for Tuesday morning brunch?"

I force a smile, trying to hide my unease. "Hey, Ellie. I'm actually not feeling up for it today, sorry."

Ellie frowns in concern. "Oh no, you don't sound like yourself, Script. Come on, what's going on?"

I fidget with my hoof, glancing away. "Nah, nothing! I just... didn't sleep very well last night..."

Ellie steps closer, her face set in a look of genuine concern. "Hey, that's okay. We all have bad nights sometimes. But you know you can talk to me, right?" She gently touches my shoulder, and I flinch away instinctively. Ellie's face falls.

"Script... what's really going on? You're acting really strange lately." I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. My throat constricts, and I feel tears welling up.

"I... I have to go..." I said shutting the door.

I slam the door shut and collapse against it, sliding to the floor. Hot tears spill down my face as I bury my face in my hooves. I can't face her. I can't face anypony. Not after what happened. Memories of that awful night flood back unbidden. The dimly lit alleyway. The heavy, whiskey-laden breath on my neck. The rough hooves pawing at my body as I struggled. I should have fought harder.

I pull myself up off the floor, my heart pounding in my chest. I look around my apartment, feeling the weight of my loneliness. I can't call Ellie back, can't explain what happened. The shame is too much. I change into my comfiest nightshirt and curl up on the couch, trying to lose myself in my favorite book series. But even that doesn't help.

I flip through the pages, trying to focus on the words, but they blur together. I can't stop thinking about what happened. About how I should have done something different. About how I'm now damaged goods. I put the book down, getting up to pour myself a glass of water.

As I stand at the sink, I notice a small, thin knife on the counter, leftover from when I was cutting fruit earlier. My gaze lingers on it, an idea forming in the back of my mind. I pick it up, turning it over in my hoof. It's not much, but it's sharp. I could use it to... no, no, I can't. I put it back down, my hoof shaking.

Just do it...

The thought echoes in my mind. It would make everything go away. The pain, the guilt, the shame - all of it. I slowly bring the blade closer to my hoof.

I hesitate, then drag the knife gently across my hoof. The sting is immediate, but bearable. I draw the knife along my leg again, harder this time. Blood wells up, a sharp red line standing out against my orange coat. The pain grounds me, sharpens my mind, and the overwhelming emotions swirling inside me settle into something simpler, something manageable. I sit in the kitchen chair, watching as the blood drips steadily onto the floor.

I'm not sure what to do next. I know I can't keep cutting myself like this - it's not a solution. But the pain feels... necessary. Like I need to pay for what I did. What I allowed to happen. I set the knife down and grabbed a paper towel, pressing it against the cut to stem the bleeding.

I'm not ready to face the world yet, but I also can't keep doing this to myself.

I clean up the blood, bandage the cut, and curl back up on the couch. The pain from the cut throbs, but it's a dull, manageable ache now. I close my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out. I can't keep living like this, but I don't know how to move forward either.

A few hours pass and I hear a knock at my door. I got up from the couch to open it.

Standing on the other side of the door is Flame Flare, her face etched with worry. She takes one look at my hoof and her eyes widen. "Script, what happened?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

I quickly cover my hoof, trying to hide the bandage on my leg. "Nothing, I just, uh, cut myself while cooking. It's no big deal," I lie, forcing a smile.

Flame Flare frowns, unconvinced. "Script, I know you better than that. You're not the type to just 'cut yourself' like that. What's really going on?" She steps closer, her eyes searching mine.

I take a step back, my heart pounding. I can't tell her the truth. I can't tell anyone. "I told you, it's nothing. I'm fine," I insist, my voice wavering slightly.

Flame Flare's brow furrows with concern. "Script, please. I know something's wrong. You've been distant and withdrawn for weeks now. You barely leave your house, and when you do, you seem... off. Like you're not really here with me." She reaches out, gently grasping my hoof. "I want to help, but I can't if you won't let me in. You don't have to go through this alone."

I pull my hoof away from Flame Flare's grasp, my breathing becoming ragged as panic sets in. "You don't understand. I... I can't..."

Flame Flare's face softens, and she gently places her hoof on my shoulder. "Script, you're shaking. Please, sit down and talk to me." She guides me to the couch, her wings wrapping around me in a protective gesture.

"Flare, I can't... I don't know how to..." I choke out, burying my face in my hooves. Tears begin to stream down my face, and I feel like I can't breathe. The memories of that night come flooding back, and I'm transported right back to the alleyway, to the feeling of his hooves on my body, to the suffocating sense of helplessness.

I'm dimly aware of Flame Flare pulling me into a tight embrace, her wings encircling me protectively. "Shh, it's okay," she whispers soothingly, her breath warm against my ear. "Just breathe with me. In... and out... that's it. You're safe here." Her claws gently stroke my back in a comforting rhythm.

"It's my fault, I should have done something, anything to make it stop..." I sob. I pull away from Flame Flare's embrace, the guilt and shame threatening to drown me. "You don't understand. I was weak, I didn't fight back enough. I deserved what happened."

My words tremble as I say them, my hooves fisting against the couch. Flame Flare's eyes narrow, a fierce protectiveness blazing in their depths. "No. You listen to me, Script. You did not deserve what happened."

I stand up abruptly, my eyes wild. "You don't know what you're talking about, Flare! You weren't there! You didn't see how pathetic I was!" I pace back and forth. "I could have stopped it. I could have fought back. But I didn't. I just... I just laid there and took it."

Flame Flare stands up, her wings spreading wide in a protective stance. "Stop it, right now." Her voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. "You were in a dangerous situation, Script. You did what you had to do to survive. That doesn't make you weak or pathetic - it makes you a survivor." She moves closer, her claws gently grasping my shoulders. "You didn't deserve what happened. No one does."

I glare at my friend. "Just shut up! You don't know how it feels to be raped! You don't know how terrified I was, so just buck off!"

I pull away from Flame Flare's grasp, my breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. I can't do this. I can't face the pity in her eyes, the sympathy. I can't stand to see the way she looks at me, like I'm some fragile, broken thing that needs to be handled with kid gloves. I stumble backwards, my hoof catching on the edge of the rug.

I trip and fall hard, my back slamming against the coffee table with a sickening thud. The air rushes out of my lungs in a painful gasp, and I curl in on myself, clutching my stomach. "Buck," I wheeze, blinking back tears of pain.

Flame Flare rushes to my side, her wings fluttering in distress. "Script! Are you alright? Let me help you up-"

I push her away, my breathing still ragged. "Don't touch me! I don't need your help!" I struggle to sit up, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through my back. Flame Flare kneels beside me, her face etched with concern and fear. "Script, please. Let me get somepony for help. You need help."

I shake my head violently, my mane whipping across my face. "No! I don't need anyone." I stare up at Flame Flare, my eyes wild and desperate. "I can't do this anymore," I choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't live like this, feeling like this. It's eating me alive from the inside out." I bury my face in my hooves, my body shaking with the force of my sobs. "I just want it to stop. I want the pain to go away."

I shut my eyes tight as tears streamed down my face.

Flame Flare's expression softens with compassion, her wings drooping in sympathy. She kneels beside me, her hoof hovering hesitantly before gently coming to rest on my back.

"Script, I understand this is painful. I can't imagine the anguish you're going through. But shutting yourself away and refusing help will only make things worse in the long run." Her voice is gentle but firm. "You don't have to carry this burden alone."

I stare at my friend, glaring. "Please, just leave me alone to die here..."

I feel a chill run down my spine as I hear those words escape my mouth. The reality of my desperation hits me like a wave, and I realize I've said too much.

Flame Flare's eyes widen in shock, and she recoils slightly, her claw pulling away from my back. She stares at me dumbfounded, unable to find her words.

"Just go... I don't want to make everything worse than it already is..." I muttered.

Flare hesitates for a moment, before walking toward the door slowly. She looks over to me, a look of sympathy in her eyes as she walks out the door.

I stare at the closed door, my heart pounding in my chest. The silence in the house is deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing. I slowly push myself up off the floor, wincing as a fresh wave of pain shoots through my back. I stumble over to the couch, collapsing onto it with a groan. I bury my face in my hooves, my body shaking with the force of my sobs.

Author's Note

I do have the whole story written out already, just need to edit it. So expect frequent updates I guess?