Patricidium

Several glass bottles littered the table. Most of them cider and whiskey, all of them emptied, save a few drops in the bottom. Next to the small table stood a couch, black in color, but use and filth had torn it into an almost grey shade. In it, a white unicorn lay, all but knocked out from the large amounts of alcohol in his system.  He was on his stomach, his head hanging from the edge of the couch, his mouth partially open with the tongue hanging out of it.

A small puddle of saliva had gathered on the floor beneath him.

His legs had been spread out across the rough pillows made out of fake leather, and it looked as if he’d been tossed into the couch like a discarded ragdoll. If it wasn’t for the uneven movement of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled, one might had thought him dead.

If somepony had looked at the passed out Lightning Quill through the bottles on the table, the uneven glass would have probably distorted the image, making him look like the freak he thought himself to be. It would paint the crooked image he had of himself.

The room itself was a rather small one, the smell of alcohol thick in the air, mixed with the stench of sweat and self-loathing. The only light came from the window, a golden-grey shine from the outside town. The gloomy rays illuminated Lightning, but not much else. Not that there was anything else to see. The couch, currently occupied by said drunk, the table, an extra chair, a few shelves with old pictures of family and friends. Most of them had been broken now though.

It was a rather small living room, but Lightning had no choice in the matter. He had taken anything, just to get away. Away from his father, away from the memories. Even though his father’s abuse had stopped as Lightning got older and his mother passed away, the scars would never heal. Not until the unicorn actually moved into an apartment to call his own did he realize just how much he hated himself. He had escaped from one darkness, and ran straight into another. Drinking.

Constant drinking. Whatever he could get ahold of, no matter how much alcohol was in it. He craved it, needed it like a drug, as if it was the one thing that kept him alive. When he drank, he forgot about his childhood, didn’t have to think about what his father did. He felt better, could pretend he’d had a normal life. But as soon as he became sober, the memories and pain came back in an instant, even worse than before. It was in this time, that frail state of being between sober and drunk, that he finally dared to accept the truth.

His father had abused him. Raped his own son, his own flesh and blood. And it was Lightning’s fault.

This stallion that caused him so much pain, the stallion that brought him to life in the first place. It had been quick, and accident. His father wasn’t trying to hide that from him. They never meant to have a child. But they did, and then the very thing that created him slowly tore his life away from him, slowly ripped his soul apart.

Lightning was sure his father did what he did because of this, because he was a mistake and a failure. He deserved it.

And so he drank. The more he got in him, the more distant these thoughts grew. He tried to drink, drug and fuck his memories away. It worked for a while, until he realized that through his behavior, he was no better than his own father. So he focused on drinking, and nothing more. No more sex or drugs, no more momentary gratification. He wasn’t like his father.

A squeaking sound penetrated the still air of the room, effectively eliminating the alcohol induced silence. Lightning moved in the couch, slowly and fluidly, the same way one looks when their underwater. And his head felt just like that, the pressure inside his ears and the fear of breathing, fear of inhaling something that did not belong in ones lungs.

The young unicorn lifted his head, and instantly felt his inside move. Without time to react, he hurled straight into the air in front of him. It mixed with the saliva on the floor. He coughed, a bitter taste filing his mouth. His mind was too foggy for him to understand what he was doing, and he tried to spit out the taste. It didn’t work. As he tried to get up from the couch, his vision started spinning, and he slipped forward in the puddle on the floor. As he fell, his horn instantly lit up, like it was ready to attack.

Lightning hit the table with his forelegs, sending the bottles flying into the air around him. Through his eyes, it all happened in slow-motion, until they hit ground. The sound of shattering glass was so loud, he was sure his eardrums would burst. It made his entire body vibrate, and once again he tumbled and fell, this time straight unto the floor. His body flipped around in the fall, and he landed on his back.

He wheezed as air escaped his lungs, and tears welled up in his eyes as shards of the bottles tore into his back and legs. But he was too drunk and groggy to even feel the pain, and he didn’t get up. He could feel something warm streaming across his back. The ceiling above him stared down at him, and he stared back at it. Waited for it to say something. Maybe it did, and he didn’t hear it.

If it did, what would it say to him? Perhaps a huge maw would open itself up there, ready to swallow him. Lightning closed his own mouth quickly, fearing that perhaps he himself was the ceiling, and if he didn’t close it he would swallow himself.

Instead he breathed through his nose, uneven and rough. A smell filled his nostrils, crept into his lungs, filled them up, and then travelled back up into his brain. From there, it could control him, seep into every part of his body. The smell was the only thing he seemed to be able to register, and it made him sick. The smell of semen. It filled the air in the room.

He didn’t remember anything, couldn’t remember how that smell ended up around him. But it was still just another reason for him to feel disgusted by himself. He hated that smell, since it reminded him not only of his father, but also of his own debauchery earlier in life.

As the ceiling started to lower itself towards him, Lightning closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep again. Hopefully he would wake up somewhat sober. Probably with a splitting headache, but still sober. Then he could begin to clean this mess up.

In his dreams, a loud banging noise filled his head. For a moment, he thought it was the sound of his father banging on the door, or the sound of his own tiny hooves as they hit the bedframe underneath his father as he…

He opened his eyes. The banging still echoed inside his head. It wasn’t just a dream, it was real, and somepony was making that sound. For some reason. Lightning moved his head slightly to the left, where he thought he would see the clock on the wall. He did, but it was impossible to tell what time it was. The arms of the clock spun around the deck like crazy.

He groaned deeply. As Lightning slowly rolled around to get up on his hooves, he promised himself dearly to never ever drink again. Of course, he would break that promise in just a few days. The room spun around him as he slowly headed towards the door leading into the small room that served as hallway or entrance.

That smell still followed him, and he cringed. A thought of surgically removing his testicles built up in his head. Then maybe he would never have that aroma fill his mind again.  Maybe it would give him peace. And it would guarantee he would never follow in his father’s hoof steps and…

The banging sound grew louder as he exited the living room. It came from the direction of the kitchen, and thankfully, not the bathroom. If it came from the kitchen, it would mean that somepony was knocking on his apartment door, which was located right next to the door into the kitchen. If it had come from the bathroom… He shuddered, but that might have just been a side effect from his drinking and slow sobering.

Somepony was knocking on his door. He should open.

The handle on the door spun around like the arms on the clock, and refused to stay still long enough for him to open it. Frustrated, he gave up his attempts of placing his hoof on it, and instead directed his magic to it, pressed it down. The door slid open inwards, coming to a stop as the small chain connected between it and the wall halted it.

Lightning peaked outside into the staircase. The worried face of a mare met him. A middle-aged mare with dark cyan coat and even darker purple mane. His neighbor, Flying Free.

Stupid name...

“Uh... Miss Free, I uh...” He stuttered, his voice sounding sleepy. It clearly showed just how drunk he was. She was about 20 years older, but didn’t look a year older than himself. She was a good neighbor, and really seemed to care about the other ponies around her. One of the few mares he’d never slept with.

“Lightning, what.. Are you okay?” She asked with her typical, worried voice. Like that of a mother asking her child if it enjoyed school, even though she knew her child was being bullied constantly.

Yeah, sure, I’m fine. I’m drunk off my flank and feel like shit; I tripped over the table and probably cut open my entire back when I slipped on my own vomit, I feel like jumping off from my balcony and I’m a disgusting pig living in my own filth and cum, and there’s a dead body in the bathroom, it’s started to smell a bit actually. So yeah, I’m perfectly fine. So how’s your day?

“I’m fine, it’s nothing.” He said back to her, trying to keep his voice steady. Still, her eyes seemed to be swaying back and forth, melting together then parting again.

“Are you sure?” Flying pushed on. “You don’t look too good... And I heard a loud bang.”

You hear ONE loud bang and decide to land a thousand loud bangs on my door? Screw logic.

“I just... I had a bit too much to drink, and I tripped. That’s all.”

“Oh, well... Be careful not to hurt yourself, okay? And call me if there’s any problem.”

Lightning nodded slowly. “I will. Thanks, Free.”

“Call me Fly, not Free. That makes me sound…” A shy smile played over her lips. “It makes me sound ugly, I think.”

That’s why I’ve never fucked her… She’s ugly.

“Fly, then.” Lightning said back to her, and then added a few more words. “You’re ugly and I’m drunk. I can stop drinking.” And with that, he closed the door in her face. He didn’t hear if she said anything to protest against it and he didn’t care. It seemed that he was sobering up faster than he first thought, since the room around him didn’t spin around as much as it did earlier.

He wanted to go to the bathroom and take a shower, but.. It was already occupied. By somepony a lot smellier than him. And Lightning didn’t want to see or smell this pony. Didn’t want to.. acknowledge what he’d done. Instead, he wobbled into the kitchen. He had to support himself on the counter as he slowly dragged himself over to the sink and started the faucet. The sound of running water sparked a desire inside of him, and he once again felt the need to enter the bathroom.

No… I can’t.

He tried his best to ignore it. Lightning put his hooves under the faucet, the cold water feeling like burning ice against his body. He splashed some in his face in his attempts to sober up. It didn’t do much. He used his magic to grab a towel to his left and did his best to jam it into the small hole at the bottom of the sink. The water slowly began to build up in it. Satisfied with this, he turned away from it and saw himself looking back from within the mirror he had next to the pantry.

He didn’t like to see himself anymore. It made him uneasy seeing his own eyes peering back at him. From that other world, beyond the glass. “Who am I?” He quietly asked his reflection. Within in a few seconds, it answered. “Legion.”

Why? For we are many.

With the help of his magic, Lightning grabbed another towel and tucked the edge of it over the top of the mirror. Didn’t want to see himself anymore. The only thing that looked back at him was a monster. He turned back to the sink, and stopped the running water just before it went over the edge.

Legion.

He lowered his face into the water. The surface broke against his skin, feeling as sharp as razors but without any pain. He didn’t close his eyes or mouth, didn’t care to hold his breath. His ears filled up with a pulsating sound as his heartbeat seemed to move up into his skull. A few strands of green hair floated across his vision, and it made him think of seaweed.

Finally, his lungs couldn’t take the lack of air anymore, and his body gasped involuntarily. The cold water seeped into his mouth and down his throat, and he could feel it fill up his lungs. He gaged, but tried to hold it back as his body tried to force him out of the water. His limbs started to twitch, and despite his efforts so stay down, his head flew upwards out of the water.

It sprayed around him, his mane flicking around his face in the movement, creating an almost perfect green circle around him, followed by the clear water. He fell backwards and landed on his backside, let his back rest against the wall. He’d failed yet again. A coward, a freak, a failure, a monster, the scum of society. A killer. A unicorn capable of taking the life of his father, but not that of himself.

Failure.

The water pooled up around him, dripping off of his soaked head and unto his coat. It didn’t matter if he burst into tears or not, they would not even be visible in his already drenched face. He lowered his head in shame. A screeching sound filled the room as a green aura enveloped a drawer in the counter, and from it, he raised a knife into the air. Levitated it towards himself. Lightning didn’t grab hold of it in his teeth, didn’t need to since he could just use his magic.

One final try...

He angled the blade in the air, the sharp edge of it slightly pricking his leg. He closed his eyes and focused his magic into a stronger current. The blade cut into his flesh, tearing through it with a horrible, ripping sound. He grinded his teeth hard as he moved the blade over his leg, slicing up his coat and skin.  It burned sharply, and warm blood began to seep out of the wound. This wasn’t his first attempt at this, and certainly wouldn’t be his last. He was just another one of the countless ponies whom tried or succeeded in ending their life ever year.

We are many. We are Legion.