Author's Note
There is nothing wrong with this story. What you may see is a story with missing paragraphs, another would find a story as thrilling as unseen ghosts. Sometimes what is most frightening are things we can't see. Perhaps for one to really know this story is use different methods to see beyond.
Final Treatment
“Are you sure this is where you want to go?” The driver asked me when I stepped out.
“I’m sure this is the place.” I was confident in that statement. In front of me behind the chain-link fence that had plenty of no-trespassing signs was a place that I could only describe as comfortingly foreboding. An oxymoron, I know. Yet there was a familiarity to the place. A tall two story, castle-like structure of brick and concrete. Windows that had rusted bars all shattered and jagged. If this place was a pony, I would describe it as a bitter old crone that despised everyone and everything. “And you will come back, will you?”
“I can, but are you seriously planning on going in there? It looks it could fall apart at any moment.”
“Yes, but I won’t be alone. I’m meeting with the owner. If you could come back by three o’clock, that would be lovely. So how much do I owe you?”
“Twelve bits. But still… are you sure you want to go inside that? From what I’ve heard it’s haunted.”
Giving him the twelve bits, “It wouldn’t matter to me if it is haunted. I still want to see it.”
“Okay…” He took the bits. “And look, I’ll come back at three and I will at least wait for fifteen minutes. But after that, I’ll be heading back to the city.”
“Understood. See you at three.”
My driver trotted back down the road. I had arrived earlier than when I agreed to meet up with the owner, so it gave me a little time to examine the place from outside of the fence. Looking at it now, it’s funny how much of this place is like how I remembered it. Despite the age, it still commands a certain presence that is imposed on those who see it. Just looking at the entrance that once upon a time had a sweeping yard that had a fountain in the middle is now overgrown by tall weeds and wild grass. The twin pair of doors are sealed by a chain and padlock while a few of the windows were boarded up by wood. No doubt due to those awful murders a couple of years ago.
And there, overhead of the doors, despite the age and decay, I can still make out the words – Sanctuary Mental Hospital.
“Teddy Darling?” I turned around to see the owner come up the road. For the sake of his privacy, I will only refer to him as Mr. Gardner. Someone who is about twenty years younger than I am. “Are you Mr. Darling?”
“I am. And I take it you’re Gardner?”
“Yes, I am.” He went up to shake my hoof. “Did you take a taxi to get up here?”
“Uh-huh. The driver was concerned for me when I told him the address, but I insisted on coming.”
“Sure, I don’t blame you. I may be technically the caretaker, but I don’t tell ponies that I own the property here. Normally I wouldn’t allow anyone to come here without a good reason. And well… You’re a special case.”
“And I do appreciate it. I didn’t think I would ever set hoof here again either. But with the news that it’s gonna be torn down...”
“Yeah, I know.” He nodded. “Honestly, given everything that’s happened, I’m more surprised that you wanted to see this place. A fifty-four-year-old guy wanted to come to the old asylum.”
“A former patient of sorts. But really an orphan.”
“That’s exactly why I was surprised. Look, mister, I would understand if you don’t want to step inside. Given what I know happened here, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted this place to be burned down and the earth salted.”
There was a moment when the wind blew past us, and I looked over to the asylum. “And you would be right,” I told him. “I probably know better than anypony alive. Yet at the same time, as horrible as this place was in hindsight, this was home. I was taken here after my parents died when I was ten. And I was finally able to walk away when they closed at seventeen. This place… Even just coming up here I asked myself why I was doing this. Perhaps it’s me looking to see what became of this place. Perhaps I want to give one last look before they tear down the place I once called home. But I’m compelled to see it, even when I can’t exactly explain why.”
“I see…” Mr. Gardner nodded. He lit up his horn and handed me a mask. “Before we go in, we’ll have to put these on. The police have found toxic mold growing in the asylum so no one should go in without these on.” He also took out a ring that had dozens of keys looped inside it. “As the caretaker, I have a key to nearly every room in the asylum. Including the more restricted areas. Still, I suggest that you always stick close to me. It’s like a maze inside and I have a pretty good idea how to get around.”
“Lead the way.”
I followed him to the first gate of the chain-link fence. After unlocking it, I followed him across the weed-covered driveway to the front doors. He paused for only a moment after he undid the lock. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go inside?”
I nodded.
“Okay, masks on…” We put the clumsy things over our faces. “Alright,” he said, his voice being muffled by the mask. “Welcome back to Sanctuary’s, Mr. Darling.” And he pulled the doors open for me.
Welcome home, Darling.
In front of us was the lobby – at least, what remained of it. The huge desk was still there, and the twin staircase that arched over the entrance to the doctors’ offices was still intact. Yet, everything else showed years and years of decay. All the windows were broken. The crusty, paint-peeling walls had graffiti on them. There was a hole in the ceiling and the floor was littered with dust, rubble, and rat feces.
“So…” Mr. Gardner said. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do?”
“Me? I sew stuffed animals for a living. Mostly teddy bears and the like. I’m the kind that gets commissions to make toys for children.”
“Oh, that’s nice. I can assume that you’re married?”
“Was. I divorced some time ago. I have two children, both of whom are married. But I’m not a grandpa. At least not yet.” Then after a beat, he raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
Mr. Gardner shrugged. “It’s not every day that I get to meet somepony who has a connection with the asylum. Especially someone old enough to remember it. So where do you want to go from here?”
“The second floor. That’s where I used to live.”
So, we climbed up the stairs and pushed past the doors, we were greeted by a long hallway. From years of neglect, the floor was littered with millions upon millions of papers, overturned wheelchairs, and those heavy doors that were all open. We felt a breeze blow past us from the windows.
As we started walking, I asked, “So Mr. Gardner, how did you come to be the caretaker?”
“Inheritance, mostly. My family wasn’t the ones who built it, but they were the last to have any control before it was shut down for good. Something about a kid escaped and exposed what was going on and all that. My family doesn’t want to talk about it for obvious reasons, but we still technically own the property. Of course, we wanted to sell the land for years but nopony wanted to buy it. More so after those murders some time ago, and now no one is interested. Plus, there’s no way to make repairs or anything without bankrupting us.”
“I see…”
“Yeah, I wasn’t even born when this place was shut down. So, growing up, I started to learn about the asylum piece by piece. How it doubled as an unofficial orphanage, the experiments that went on, and the ghost stories. So many ghost stories. But really, this is the first time that I had someone who was here when it was up and running.”
“Really? I’m the first? You never met any of the other patients or the staff?”
“Not to my knowledge. You’re the first one to reach out to me to ask to be let in.”
The conversation died, and my attention turned towards one of the rooms. Given how bare everything is, it resembled a prison cell. From the darkness, I could make out a rusty bed, a mattress that has seen better days, and on the crumbling walls, a spray-painted image of a skull. For a moment, I wondered whose room this belonged to.
We moved on further down the hall and entered the cafeteria. As I recall, this was the heart of the asylum. A massive, now cave-like room still had those rows of empty tables. I had never seen it like this when I was here last. This was always a busy, noisy place that was full of ponies either eating or socializing in the enormous space. Now there was nothing but dust, broken plates, and pieces of the ceiling that were scattered everywhere. Yet, this was the heart of the asylum because it intersected the other wings. And… the basement.
“Do you remember this place?” Mr. Gardner asked.
“Ha. Hard to forget. This is where we ate our meals.”
“Even the foals?”
“Everyone did. Although… I don’t remember if the staff ever ate with us. But I certainly remember, however, that there were security guards that always kept watch. With some of the patients being so unpredictable, I supposed it made sense. I also remember being anxious just eating here. Because you never know if at any given moment someone would use the silverware to either stab each other or themselves.”
“Have you seen anyone do that?”
“Seen? No. Heard? Yes, only it happened occasionally. I don’t think they ever happened in front of me, but when it did happen, everyone knew when the staff came rushing in.” I gave a weak laugh, “It’s almost funny. Even when this is empty, I can almost still hear them. I can still hear the clanking of silverware on plates, the endless muttering and chatter that echoed in a space like this.”
STOP IT! STOP IT!
Alarmed, I looked around.
“What is it?” Gardner asked.
I looked, but there was no one else but us. “Nothing… I think I’m just imagining things.”
“Chances are, it might be the wind blowing through. I mean with all the windows gone; we might hear some weird noises.” Mr. Gardner looked up and pointed. “Oh yep! Remember that mold I was talking about earlier? There’s some over there.”
Looking over toward the direction he was pointing, I saw in a corner of the ceiling a patch of small black dots, each roughly the size of a button.
“Ya know, back with the triple murder case awhile back, the police had taken samples of that stuff and found something interesting.”
“And what’s that?”
“Apparently, the mold that grows here is entirely unique. A new species, I think. Turns out, it’s a type of psychedelic where your reality could be manipulated. In a place like this, I still consider it dangerous without the masks.”
“Do you think it might lead to why ponies think it’s haunted?”
“Probably. Ponies didn’t know about the mold growing here and given the atmosphere they probably thought they saw or heard ghosts here… I think that might be why.”
I made sure the mask I had on was still tight against my face.
“So, what do you want to see?” He asked, jangling the ring of keys. “Remember, I got keys to every door of this place.”
“If it’s alright, I want to see my old room.”
“Oh? Do you know where it is?”
Under the mask, I gave an amused smile. “I can walk there blindfolded.”
It was true. Even after all these years that I wanted to forget, I still knew which hallway to head towards, and which door was mine. Despite retracing my steps through corridors of discarded medical records, overturned gurneys, and crushed wheelchairs – to me, it was almost like riding a bicycle again after so many years. That I deep down knew which rusty door was mine.
“Here.” I pointed to an open door. “This was my room.”
It’s an odd experience to see the space that I once called my room. To see it be this bare as bones as this where there was nothing in there except for the metal frame for the bed, a barred window, and a lamp overhead – lightbulb long burned out. Walking in, I couldn’t help but notice how… small it was. Smaller than I remembered it.
“What did it used to look like when you were here?” Mr. Gardner asked.
“I think the word austere comes to mind. The thing was, when my parents died, I was left with nothing. I had no toys, no clothes, not even a blanket. So, everything I had was handed to me from the asylum. The mattress was here, and with that, you were given a pair of sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. The staff give you a cup of water with a toothbrush and a small bit of toothpaste each day. After lights out, we had a chamber pot in case we needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night. Oh, and we had a paper blue gown to wear.”
“I thought only the patients had to wear them.”
“Oh no, kids too. Unless you worked here, everyone is treated the same. Given the same necessities. The only exception was for the young foals. They’re at least given toys and have a playroom of their own. I was there for a few years until I was considered too old for that.”
And your therapy?
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
“What? I didn’t say anything?”
I stuck a hoof in my ear, thinking that perhaps I was hearing things.
“I’ve always wondered, what was it like trying to sleep here?”
“Well, I do remember that the first few nights were the hardest. When I arrived here at first with the lights being shut off, it wasn’t all quiet. Just laying on that bed, you can hear things from the door that I imagined what Tartarus must sound like. There were crying, there were screams, there were distant mutterings that you couldn’t make out. And every now and then, you could hear an echo of a door being opened and a patient would be taken from their room. Being wheeled past your door, and hoping that they will pass you.”
“Celestia…” I saw him shiver. “That’s horrifying for anyone. More so for a kid.”
“The first few nights were bad. I couldn’t sleep at all at first. But after a while… You get used to it.”
There was a pause for a moment. “So… Were you ever…? You know?”
“Treated? Or rather, experimented?” He nodded. I sighed, “Occasionally, yes. But I still remember when it happened. You see, nopony knew when they would be taken downstairs to the basement. That’s where most of the uh…”
“I’ve heard they conducted experiments on the patients downstairs.” Mr. Gardner said cautiously. “Did they… do something to you?”
We’re ready for you.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Look, if you don’t want to go downstairs, I totally understand.”
I shook my head. “No… No, I want to see it.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s part of the reason why I came. Think of it as me confronting my demons. To look at them in the eye and not be afraid of them anymore.”
“Are you sure about that? I can if you really want, but I don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
For a moment, as brief as it was, I had seriously considered this. Sanctuary was a dark time in my life that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. To endure it for about seven years like a prisoner in these walls would be more than enough to never come back again. Even coming here after it has long shut down to let it die and rot is an act of courage on my end. Like going to a gravesite of the pony who has hurt you the most and yet, was a caretaker.
But I strengthen my resolve, I want to go to the basement. To have someone else their bare witness that these things did happen to me.
“I insist.”
Mr. Gardner nodded. “If you say so. There are some stairs nearby, I’ll take you there.”
From what I remember, there are certain points of the asylum where you can enter the basement. There were the elevators, but I doubt they would be functional after decades of neglect. And then there are the stairs. At certain points, usually at the end of the hallway or in the cafeteria, there is a set of staircases that connect to the other floors, including the basement. As I recall, they’re usually closed off by one of those foldable gates for security reasons.
Such as the case when we approached one of them. As expected, the crisscross white painted metal gate had sealed off the stairs.
It was here that Mr. Gardner took out his key ring. “You know, there are a few of these gates that have long rusted off, but this one is still standing. And if I remember right, it still functions.” He stuck one of the keys in the lock, turned it, and used his aura to wedge the thing open. The rust screeched like a wounded animal that echoed in the hall. “You better watch your steps; I think some of these stairs might be falling apart.”
Not to mention treacherous. Before me was the flight of metallic stairs that had corroded in rust. I wasn’t sure about stepping on that, for all I knew, it could probably collapse from under the weight. But Mr. Gardner gallantly took the lead, and although it creaked, he was perfectly fine. “Do you have a flashlight? It looks awfully dark down there.” I looked through the gaping mouth of the entrance, down through the holes in the floor towards the abyss.
“I brought an electric lantern with me.” He took out a dark plastic cylinder and pulling on it, a bright light quickly illuminated the darkness. “Just in case.”
In my old age, I must be wary when it comes to more risky things such as this. I pressed a cautious hoof to test the stability and took things slow when I descended the stairs. Step by careful step, down the musty descent into an underworld with Mr. Gardner behind me. Step by step I paid close attention to the creaking, the groaning, growling bend of my weight on the thin metal stairs. Step by-
Before I knew it, I was pulled down. It was so sudden that I lost my breath for a moment. Too shocked to realize that I was falling. Yet it happened so fast that just when I realized what was happening, I crashed and landed on the ground, hearing something break in front of me.
“Holy Celestia!” I heard Mr. Gardner’s muffled voice scream. “Mr. Darling, are you okay!?”
“I don’t know.” I just fell through the stairs. I was aching and stinging. What’s more, when I looked up, I saw the unmistakable jagged lines of my now broken mask.
“Can you stand?”
I felt wobbly, reaching around until I found a wall to steady myself from. But as I slowly rose, my right hindleg was stinging.
“I think I might have sprung my hindleg.” I said, taking off my mask. As soon as it was off my face the stench of mildew filled my nostrils. “And the mask is broken too.”
“Oh that’s not good…” Mr. Gardner looked over his shoulder. “Listen, we need to get you out of here right now.”
“Now? Apart from the sprang leg, I think I should be okay.”
“Yeah, but you still risk getting tetanus. You just fell through a rusty staircase. That, and your mask is busted. At your age, I think the longer you’re exposed, the worse it might get. I’ll have to go get help.”
“You’re going to leave me down here?”
“I can’t risk jumping to the other side. I might make things worse. Besides, I know there are other ways of getting out of there. That, and I’ll have to run to call an ambulance. I hate to do this but the best way is for us to split up.”
“Split up, are you crazy?!”
“Hey, I don’t like it either. But the sooner I can call for help, and you find your way out, the better. And your best chance of getting out is going down that hall, just keep going straight until you reach the stairs that lead to the cafeteria. It’s the shortest way out of here.”
I looked over my shoulder, and for a moment I thought I saw something move. “Fine, I can still move at least. But could you throw me that lantern? I don’t want to get lost in the dark.”
He did so. Tossing it down for me to catch it.
“Just remember, if you see any black spots, avoid them as much as you can and don’t breathe it in.”
“I got it. I’ll hurry along as much as I can.”
“And I’ll hurry too.” He said, making a dart back up the stairs and galloping down the halls. I listened to his hoofsteps echo off in the distance leaving me alone in the hole.
My attention then turned towards a pair of doors. Cobwebs and dust acted as a seal to an unholy tomb before me. Overhead, the old sign still etched on the doors sends a sense of dread: Basement – Medical Ward. Even as a teen, those words chilled me to the bone, and decades later, it was like a last warning to those who dared descend into the underworld.
But for me to get out, I must go in.
“Nothing to worry about,” I muttered to myself. “It’s all empty and there hasn’t been anypony here for years.”
Pushing through the creaking double doors, I entered a long, damp hallway. The walls were like how I remembered them. A pale yellow, stained by water that has leaked through the ceiling. Before me was a dark tunnel that had doors and observation windows that stretched out into the darkness. I couldn’t explain it, but I looked down it was a sense of dread. A sense somewhere in the shadows, I wasn’t entirely alone. Right this way, Darling.
Taking a shaky breath, I started to hobble down the hall. With every step, my hindleg screamed up at me in pain so I had to carefully walk on three legs while keeping it off the ground. The electric lantern, as bright as it was, still couldn’t illuminate the other end of the hall. What made it so eerie to me was the condition of the medical ward. Besides the floor being damp with puddles here and there, the lights being broken, and the stains on the walls, it was… it was like how I remembered it.
For me, it was like walking into the setting of a nightmare. Now and then I peeked through the cobwebbed and dust-covered windows at the medical rooms. To see those rooms of torture machines that seemed to loom from the dark. Machines that promised cures but only gave nothing but pain. I had half expected to see someone still strapped to those things.
“Let’s get ‘em in.”
Now and then, I would stop and look over my shoulder. Perhaps it was the dust. But at times I could have sworn that I saw something move. Only there was nothing there. And despite knowing that Mr. Gardner had left me to get help and that I was alone. I… didn’t feel alone for some reason. I couldn’t shake off the feeling as though someone was there. Existing just from the corner of my eye, behind a door, in the shadows – but always out of sight.
And then, from down the hall, I thought… I thought I saw a flash of white. A uniform from the staff that entered one of the rooms. It was so unexpected that I gasped. “Whose there!?” My frightened voice echoed, but there was no reply. “Hello?”
At first, it was all silent with nothing but my breaths and my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Perhaps I was only imagining things. After all, I had to remind myself that this place was abandoned years ago and there couldn’t be anyone else here. Perhaps my imagination was getting the better of me because of the decrepit atmosphere. Yet, as I got closer, my ears picked up on a sound. A low rambling, banging that seemed to come from miles away that was weak to pick up. But that wasn’t what disturbed me.
Someone was calling for help. A foal was screaming for help.
“Let me out! Help me, please! Somepony!”
Oh Celestia, I thought, there’s a kid down here! I tried to hurry as fast I could towards the room despite the sprang leg. Overhead was the cobweb sign that read: Sensory Deprivation. Pushing through the rotting doors there were three dust-covered tanks that sunk into the ground; three rectangle lids that stuck out like caskets.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Get me out!” I heard frantic banging that came from the center tank. Despite how close I got, the pounding still sounded distant or muffled in that steel coffin. “Help me! I can’t breathe!”
I limped over to the center tank, noticing that this was the only one that was latched shut. Using my horn, I unlocked the lid and pulled it open. There I paused. There was nopony there. Only a pool of water showed my reflection. This water, almost as dark as ink, was completely still. I waved my lantern over it, trying to see the bottom of it but somehow, it was as though this steel coffin sank deep into the earth.
As thoroughly confused as I was, something was unsettling about all of this. I was certain that I heard a colt cry for help, but only to find nopony. It was as if I was being led into a trap.
And before I knew it, I felt someone push me. Not losing my balance. Not slipping on something. But I felt someone’s hooves actively pushing on my back and shoving me towards that pitch-dark abyss. It was so sudden, that I didn’t have time to scream before I was hitting face first in the water.
“Help!” Was the first thing I screamed out when I resurfaced. Flipping around, I only saw an outline of a shadow, looming over me. If the inky water wasn’t what iced me to the bone, then the unmistakable outline of a nurse’s uniform did. I didn’t have time to see the face because as soon as I saw it, the lid was slammed shut. “No wait! Wait!”
Suddenly I was in the dark. Either I had dropped the lantern just outside or it had sunk to the bottom. This thing was so deep that I could not feel the bottom. What’s worse, there was nothing to grasp on. Everything inside the deprivation tank was smooth; there wasn’t so much as a bolt to hold on and there was barely enough room for my head to poke out to breathe.
“I’m in here!” I screamed as loud as I could. But I could swear that the latches on the metal coffin were being latched shut. “Hey! I’m in here!”
But there was no reply. I kept banging and trying to keep myself above water in such a tight space. I thought that whoever it was was trying to drown me in this darkness. All my pleas to have someone open the lid fell on deaf ears, and I didn’t know how much longer I could take fighting for my life.
And then, I felt something brush against my hindlegs. A hoof wrapped around me to pull me under. I swear it somehow felt colder than the water itself. I tried to push my forelegs and my back against the walls, but it did nothing to prevent me from being pulled down.
I had expected to drown, to be dragged into a watery grave. Only that wasn’t what happened. As soon as my head was fully submerged, I found myself slammed on a medical table. I had no idea how, but I was being forced down being strapped by heavy restraints. Over me, nurses in white with no faces were pressing on me, holding me in place to lock my limbs, chest, and head in place. There was a light right above me, and to my horror, I realized where I was.
The Operation Room.
This had to be a nightmare. I was being dragged back in the past kicking and screaming!
And then… He… His shadow came into view.
“Darling. Darling. Darling…” His voice was full of disappointment. “I really cannot believe you. After everything, since we took you into our care, it’s mindboggling that you would do something like this.”
“NO!” At least… That’s what I wanted to say. But as much as I wanted to scream, especially who was right in front of me… I couldn’t. It was like my mouth was superglued shut. I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t move. The restraints felt tighter than before.
Then… his face came into view. The monster that everypony in the asylum feared. A face that was etched in age, his orange fur, turquoise blue mane in a white coat. The one that had gained the nickname Doctor Lobotomy.
Doctor Red Cross.
“I simply can’t understand it.” He remarked, half to me and half to the nurses swarming around me. “It’s a shame, really. He was doing so well here. Doing better than most of the patients here, I think. But having him slip away when no one was looking and tattled on us…” He shook his head. “Have these sterile first before we start.”
What was he doing? Doesn’t he know I’m awake? He was moving things out of sight. Something metallic banging up against metal. Oh Celestia, I thought, he’s going to lobotomize me! I have to get his attention. He can’t do this to me! I’m awake!
“This naughty colt is the reason why our hospital has shut down, you know.” He remarked to one of the nurses. “Everything was going fine as it was. We were making great progress for both us and medical students here. Running experiments that the crown was too cowardly to explore for knowledge’s sake. But no. This brat happened to slip away with the garbage and tattled away to anyone who would listen. He wasn’t supposed to say that we always clean up our image when the inspector came to call. He wasn’t supposed to say that we put patients in solitary for months. He wasn’t supposed to say that his friends were getting treated by me. At least he was smart enough not to take credit when they shut our beloved hospital down.”
Then he looked down at me, with a gaze as cold as death itself. “Funny how traitors come back to the scene of the crime – so to speak. Funny how someone deemed normal outside these walls was insane enough to return. But no matter. Today’s the day we fix everything. Starting with that mouth of yours.” A nurse handed him a threaded needle. “Normally I love hearing them scream but you have lost that right. Oh, and by the way, Mr. Darling,” He smirked, with a chill that ran down my spine. But nothing as horrifying as what he said next. “We know you’re awake.”
I wish I could scream. I wish that I could suddenly wake up from this nightmare. I would be back in my bed to realize that everything was all a bad dream. But I felt my lips being pressed up, and the needle pressed right against my nose with the point pointing downwards. Without so much warning, I felt that needle pierced through my upper and lower lip. It was a white-hot pain that stabbed through with relentless pressure. The kind that you want to scream at the top of your lungs.
He wasn’t quick about it. While I struggled, tried to fight against my restraints while he pierced one side of my lip and then the other, Red Cross was taking his sweet time. Not to be careful. No, because I was certain that needle had scrapped my gums. But I could tell he was enjoying this like an artist with a canvas. He even had a satisfied smile when he pierced the last hole in my lips. He ran the bloody needle through the holes again, making it tighter, and completely unable to open my mouth.
“And now to tie everything together…” He muttered, finishing a knot before trimming the excess threads. “There. Now you’ll remain nice and quiet.”
I wanted to say something, but there wasn’t anything I could do. Not since my teens had I felt this helpless; and at the same time, my mouth felt like it was on fire from all that pain.
“Oh look, he thinks we’re done.” I heard laughter from the nurses, a distant, mocking, strained laughter that only ridiculed my suffering. “You know, Darling, as cathartic as sewing your treacherous mouth was, there is always that possibility that you would find a way to cut it open and tattle again. Luckily, I came prepared.”
I was panicking. What did he mean by that? What was he going to do?!
Then he held up his tools and I think my heart stopped for a moment. He had only two things that to anyone else wouldn’t be cause for alarm. But for me who had grown up at Sanctuary’s, they are the most frightening thing you could imagine with this monster holding them: a hammer, and an ice pick.
“You know what these are for?” He asked me. “This will cure your loose-lips tendencies for good. I have disciplined so many patients with these things. Ranging everything from manic depression to those who had one too many temper tantrums. If you want to get a foal to behave in a hurry, just get these, tap in the right place, and then you’ll have peace and quiet. And these will get you to shut up forever, Darling.”
There is no word in any language that comes close to the gut-punch, head-splitting, soul-tearing, Celestia-abandoning terror than at that very moment. I of all ponies knew about this procedure and what it does – hammering an ice pick through the tear duct of the eye, through the skull, and giving you brain damage. All those memories of those who had undergone it came galloping in like a stampede. Flashes of older ponies and foals alike were left in catatonic states as though someone had sucked the life out of them.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Darling, this is the quickest surgery that I could muster. Personally, I would love to open your skull and stir your brain with a fork. But unfortunately, it will leave one too many suspicious stitches. This however made more practical sense. Just a quick tap, a moment of pain, and you’ll be done before you know it. Although, after this, I doubt you would be able to wake up from.”
He focused the ice pick steadily, aiming for the tear duct in my left eye. I was screaming uncontrollably but my mouth was sewn tight, all I could give out is a muffled plea. A scream for help.
Slap!
Then as if I was given a great electrical shock, I was suddenly jolted awake. My consciousness whiplashed into a different reality altogether. One second, I was about to have my brain lobotomized, the next I was lying down in an ambulance with Mr. Gardner and someone else over me. Suddenly free, I was waving and kicking at nothing, only now just noticing the tubes, wires, and things sticking out of me. I was hyperventilating, confused, and terrified out of my mind.
“Hey, hey! Lay back down!” The stranger in a dark blue vest pushed on my withers. “Sir, you need to calm down. You’re safe.”
I looked about my surroundings. There were medical odds and ends sticking about, but I also saw trees moving by from a window in front of me. It took me a good minute or so to realize that I was in an ambulance.
“Are you okay?” Mr. Gardner asked, and I dumbly looked up at him. “Do you realize what happened?”
I shook my head.
“We found you in the basement.” He nodded. “I’m First Aid, First Responder. You were in the dark and we found you screaming your head off. I understand that you fell on some rusty metal and your mask broke. Possibly sprang your leg and was exposed to some mold, is that correct?”
Again, I nodded.
“Now listen, we’re gonna be taking you to River Side Hospital to get a look at your leg and get you a shot for tetanus – just in case. In the meantime, just breathe normally.”
It was only then that I realized that I had an oxygen mask over my muzzle.
“I think it’s to combat the mold you might have breathed in.” Mr. Gardner told me. “And I’ll be honest, I came this close to getting a heart attack myself. You were stiff as a board but twitching a lot. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head like you were having a stroke or something. And you were screaming a lot. At least this stuff has gotten you back to reality.”
That was a relief. I was about to say, “And thank goodness you got help when you did.” Only… my lips were stuck. No matter what I did, I could not simply open my mouth. Moving my jaw, sticking my tongue, but it was as though my lips were glued shut. Or even…
“Hey! Keep that on!” Aid tried to prevent me from removing the mask.
I had to rip it off to feel my mouth. Feeling around, I had expected to feel the stitches on my lips. Only… There was nothing there. Yet my mouth had firmly remained shut. No matter what I did, I couldn’t open it.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Gardner asked me. “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t do anything but let out some muffled shouts. Something was wrong and I couldn’t physically say anything!
“Sir? What’s wrong?” Aid asked. “Sir? Can you speak?”
He tried to put the mask back on but I was clawing at my lips, trying to force it open. But they won’t. They simply won’t. In my panic, I tried to reach for something sharp. It was then I noticed the boxcutter sticking out of Aid’s pocket. But before I could do anything, I had both their hooves stopping mine. There was no way for me to tell them what was wrong, I could barely breathe.
“Hold him down.” Aid told Gardner. I struggled against this. Trying to signal them somehow that something was wrong. But then I felt a sharp poke against my flank, and as much as I wanted to scream out at that, I couldn’t. “That should help.”
“What did you do?”
“Gave him a sanative, it should help him relax.”
In a matter of moments, I felt weaker and my libs became heavy. They put the mask on me again, instructing me to breathe. They don’t understand.
Something is wrong with me.
And no one will ever know, Darling.
