In Memoriam

Chapter 2: Inside His Mind

If I never see the light of day, let it be said that I lived my life as well as I could. I realize that sounds cheesy, but that’s how it was. My own life has been a constant upheaval of what should have been happiness and introduction of constant tragedy. I’ve never been a subtle creature, and I have experienced both the pros and cons of that. Through this tendency, I have made friends, lost love, and coped with depression for years now. But I fear I may be starting to lose this battle.

Was I wrong to hate myself for what I did to Surprise? Is my own suffering enough to make up for that? Both are questions I had wanted so bad to ask her, but never got the chance to. I tortured myself for months trying to work up the courage to pose the question I really wanted to: did I deserve forgiveness? I wanted to ask her just as much as myself, but I was never able to. It took enough out of me to remember what happened that day to bring myself to face my decisions since then.

I used to be happy. Now, I’m not so sure…

Rainbow had to put it down. She had found Lightning’s journal in the box she’d opened about an hour before. What she had just finished reading was from just before Slip and Scoots were born, from his final depressive spout before becoming a father. He had been outwardly friendly to anypony who would still talk to him, but she remembered his drinking and crying at home; he had cried himself to sleep for over a month before Surprise…died.

One more thing Rainbow was always unable to bring herself to accept was Surprise killing herself. The short time she was able to spend with her nieces taught her one thing: a mare doesn’t commit suicide when she has fillies to look after. Mother instincts won’t allow it.

At least there’s something left of him. After the burial, she was broken on the inside. Scootaloo couldn’t remember anything, and Nurse Redheart had said she would never fly. Since then, the two had fallen into a give-and-take relationship: Rainbow gave her skill, devotion, and inspiration, and Scoots soaked it up. However, Scootaloo had become her own pony; she was no longer just Lightning’s daughter. A good deal of the house had been emptied out during Rainbow’s long purge, especially the pictures. After all that, all that remained was the journal Rain was now reading.

My mind has been to Tartarus and back. Every day is a fresh torture for me…I realize that these are basically the same, but I’m trying to find a way to put it that causes me the least pain. The only way for me to do that is to play with my daughters for a while. Slipstream: an interesting name, to be sure, but she’s still amazing. Her smile is intoxicating, her laughter a beautiful song. She reminds me of Surprise, a mare that never knew I loved her.

After years of watching over Rain, the company of fillies feels…dry, I guess. Raising my own daughters is amazing, but there seems to be no excitement in it anymore. Everypony I know here took until Slip and Scoots came home to find out that Rain wasn’t my daughter, and when they realized that they, the Cakes in particular, became a lot easier to deal with. I guess life was just a blur up until a few months ago, when I brought the girls back to my home. Everything slowed down watching them run around the house, Slipstream especially. She’s a tiny bullet on her hooves…kind of freaks me out when I consider what she’ll be like as a flier.

There has always been a certain dichotomy to my emotions. If I’m not suicidal, I’m overjoyed to be alive. I think my old shrink called it ‘bipolar,’ or something. Right now, despite the routine of caring for Slip and Scoots, I’m happy. I can honestly say that I don’t care what anypony says about me in the future; at least the fillies stopped rumors that I like colts…but that’s beside the point.

The girls have me in a happy stage of life. I can’t be sad around them, and I’ve tried. I try to equate them with her, but I always end up seeing Slip as Slip and Scoots as Scoots. It was, and is, impossible to relate them to the suffering I’ve endured.

My whole life was horrible until they came along. I finally have a real family, one I’m not afraid to see every day. It’s comforting to know that I can be happy again.

It read like a novel. The flow was erratic, matching his personality flawlessly. Rainbow had no idea what to make of it, but she felt compelled to continue reading. The journal was impossible to put down.

Feeling a thousand and one emotions must be beautiful. If only I could know what it’s like to have a midpoint between ecstasy and crippling depression, life would be so much easier to deal with. Rainbow said it seemed that her friend, Fluttershy, always felt five different things at once. I’ve met her; she might be sad, angry, guilty, indifferent, or a psychopath for all I know. She always has the same timid look on her face. Watching her, though, I can’t help but see a bit of myself there.

I was very reserved as a young colt…I guess that could be chalked up to my father again. I was never really given a chance to spread my wings (no pun intended), and I didn’t make many friends. Those that I did were very close and gave me somepony to confide in. After a time, even they abandoned me, and I began giving up on life. I suppose starting anew with Rain proved my salvation: it brought me back from the darkest place I’d ever been. Until we got to Ponyville, my plan had been to give her to an orphanage and kill myself

I’m glad I chose not to.

Again, Rainbow stopped reading. She had never known this about him, how dark his life had been. Lightning always seemed the epitome of happiness in her foalhood, and it was hard to believe that he had seriously considered suicide at such an early age. She was past tears by now; reading this had dried them up.

As much as I’d like to forget what happened and move on pretending I had no children, I can’t. I’ll have to live out my days knowing that, because of me, my daughter is dead, her sister crippled for life. I cry myself to sleep every night wishing Scoots and Slip were still here with me, hoping for the impossible. If I can ever draw any comfort in this tragedy, it’s the service. Laying a filly to rest is hard enough when it’s not yours, but no parent should have to bury their own child.

I could barely speak at the funeral. I tried talking about how much Slip meant to me, but I was never able to truly communicate it. The bond there is too strong to put into words. The other parents in Ponyville understood what I was suffering through; the thought of losing a child is unbearable to them, and they would never wish it upon anypony. I only hope that, soon, I can learn to forgive myself for my role in her death.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell Scoots what had happened; it seemed evil to tell her since she couldn’t remember anything before the doctor told her she would never fly. She’ll figure it out soon enough, I expect.

Only halfway into the journal’s pages, and Rainbow was having a hard time reading any more of it. She knew Lightning blamed himself for that accident, but not that completely. She always figured he had chalked at least some of it up to random chance…

As she put the journal back in the box, she lost her balance. The next thing she knew, the box was open on the floor, with pieces of paper spilling out of it from a hidden compartment in the bottom. She picked up the first one and read:

Dear Scootaloo…

Hi everypony!! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! I've been tweaking it for days now, and I've tried to follow the feedback. Thank you so much for your suggestions, and please, for the love of Celestia, stay tuned! I'm hoping to write longer chapters at some point, by the way...hopefully surpassing 2,000-3,000 words from now on :)