Chapter 2

"I'm glad you decided to drop by Misti, because there's something we need to discuss."

Ignoring the use of my nickname, I resist the urge to strangle her. I don't know whether to feel honored, or cursed. 

"Does it have something to do with the letter I received from Princess Celestia today?" I ask, trying to remain professional. 

She is the last pony I want to talk to right now. Actually, I don't even want to talk! I want to cry! I want to scream! I want to break things and throw a tantrum like I'm six years old! And not even out of anger! 

It's out of stress.

"Well, I'm glad to see that the mail service is doing their job. It'd be a shame if they couldn't do the simplest of tasks, wouldn't it?" 

And this is part of the reason why I hate Dr. Clara and the whole 'therapy' idea!

But I had to remain calm. If I don't, I'll end up in an asylum instead of back home. 

"This wasn't something you could've told me yesterday?" I say more than ask through my clenched teeth. 

As if this would help anypony at all!

Dr. Clara sighs, shaking her head in a way that felt mocking almost. 

"It was more of a-" She stops herself, touching her chin. "last-minute thing. There was no possible time between then and now I could've told you."

Even though the answer was fair, I had no reason to trust her. It wasn't like we've had the best relationship anyways. 

"Is there anything else I could do instead? Like just extend my therapy sessions?"

I couldn't believe I had just suggested that, but I can't do what was in that letter! I can't! I'll make a fool of myself and they'll be no different from any other ponies I've met!

How will this be any different?

Biting on my tongue to prevent any other stupid ideas coming through, I watch Dr. Clara stand up from her chair, walking around it and to the window in the back. 

"No, I'm afraid. But it can't be that bad Misti, after all, they are the representation of friendship in Equestria."

So what? We both know that I'm a disgrace to pony society, and that I can't socialize if my life depended on it. They won't accept me. Maybe for a while, they'll try to get used to me. But I swear that they will kick me out. 

Everypony I love already has...

I shift my bite from my tongue to the inside of my cheek as Dr. Clara lets some light in through the blinds. It forces me to squint, as I'm not used to the amount of sun she's letting in, and again, I hiss. But it was uncontrollable. 

Dr. Clara furrows her brow, giving me a look I only see when she tries to say something like I should know it already. 

"See Misti, you can't even handle a little light in your life. Princess Celestia and I talked about it, and we both agreed that these mares should be able to help you out."

Though I wish I didn't, I let the use of my nickname slide.

The thing she doesn't get is that I am a pony who if thrown in a room with other ponies will run out the room, panicking from the social anxiety I would feel. It's hard enough living with myself, but then I'll have to live with about eight or so mares as well. 

I'm not a pony mare anymore. 

My hooves rub across the texture of the couch, and I can't say I'm pleased with what I feel. Maybe I'm just a picky pony, but her couch feels like sandpaper, and it gets on my nerves. Not just her couch either, it's the texture in general.

It's weird and grainy, a mix of dislike and like all at once. I think ambivalent's the word. 

No matter whether I liked it or not, it didn't change the fact that I was going to live with the Princess Of Friendship. 

And I am not ready. 

~~*~~

The mirror blurs around the edges; all I want to see is myself. 

All I can see is her hooves wrapped around me, giving me a comforting hug. Her face is soft, concerning and protective all at once. 

She was my guardian angel, and I was her best friend. 

My hoof presses against the dresser, and I steady myself to make sure I don't fall down. I don't want to look at her, I don't want to see her. 

Then why can I see her?

Why can I feel her warmth as it fades and re-materializes?

Why can I feel her protecting me until our last breaths?

Why do I feel like embracing her back, giving her that same warmth...?

The edges of my eyes start to water, as I feel her tender touch leave me once more. My hoof bangs down on the dresser, as I bite my bottom lip to hold it in. 

I need to hold it in, or else I won't be able to keep myself together. If I don't hold it in, it'll get to me. 

If I don't hold it in, it'll all come rushing back. 

I can't let it happen. 

The tears are like faucets, dripping a drop of water down both my cheeks. And I don't feel warm anymore, I feel cold. 

A feeling of resentment rises inside me, as I feel as if I can't move. Paralyzed in my own body, I can only glance. 

Rushing air blows against my back, making me shiver from the change in temperatures. It whistles through my mane, my eyes closing for a split second while the tears just kept flowing. The entire room was like a freezer, with me as the water that's freezing over to become an ice cube. 

And for once, I don't see her. 

I see me. 

At least, I think it's me. 

My mane is longer, and poofier, like it was a long time ago. 

It's me before I changed. 

Me before her. 

The other me had teleported up to me, her lips curving into a conniving smirk as she placed her pale hoof around me, placing it on my back as she stroked the fur softly. 

I pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" She asks in a voice I didn't even recognize. "Don't want to admit it?"

Do I really sound like that? 

And admit what? If she's talking about what I think she's talking about, then I have nothing to admit. 

"Admit what?"

She giggles. 

"Admit that everything is your fault, dummy."

The last word was like pure evil had rolled off her tongue, her face being one that shook me right to the core. 

"I'm not dumb..." I say, but uncertainty wavered in my words. 

She gives me a look of fake surprise, beginning her pace around me. 

"Oh really? Who's to say?"

That shuts me up, and my mouth hinges. 

After a few seconds, she pushes me forward, almost forcing me to look in the mirror. But I can't see myself anymore. There were words written in red, scrawled across the surface of the glass. Things like 'Worthless', 'Waste of space', 'Unloved', anything I could think of that was mean, and even meaner things that were out of the range of my thinking. 

"Now, what do you see?" The way she's speaking reminds me of Dr. Clara, and that makes me sick to my stomach. 

I harshly bite on my tongue - I don't want to answer this. 

"Don't be shy, it's only a mirror."

A mirror with the worst things written on it. 

I close my eyes tightly, opening them to see if this is a bad dream. It has to be, I would never write these things on my mirror! 

Well, not without getting caught of course...

But when I open my eyes again, it's all still there. Everything is still here. 

"Ugly," I hesitantly announce, trying to go in some type of order. 

"Worthless."

"Stupid."

"Selfish."

"Traitor."

"Murderer."

"Never to be forgiven."

Tears begin to stream down my face once more, just from how awful all these are. Yet, the other me just tisks with a disappointed look on her face. 

"There's no need to be mean. It's only your reflection."

I blink, once at her, and once at the mirror. The words vanished before I could see them, leaving me and only me. 

My eyes open. 

Cold sweat drips down the side of my face, pitch black darkness covering the room as far as I could see. I light up my horn, a small emerald light lighting a dim light. Comfortable to my eyes, yet it allows me to not be blinded. 

What time is it? Did I fall asleep again?!

I'm on the floor, but this time, without my pillows. The sheets from my bed are draping over the edge, teasing me in a way that I didn't have the energy to deal with. 

Crickets chirp from outside, like night had fallen sometime ago. That lingering feeling rested in my stomach, weariness covering my face as I stare up into the night.

I'm too tired to cry, too numb to feel upset, too deep in my haze to feel anything really. Nothing except a long void of emptiness and black. 

But it was just a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Then again, if it was just a dream, why am I shaking? Why is my face slick with tears? Why can I feel every word stab me like a knife over and over?

Why do I feel so empty?

Pushing the questions aside, I roll on my back, gazing up at the ceiling. My eyes lazily roll the the side, taking a tired look at everything. 

This might be the last time I see my own room, considering their sending me to the castle to 'fix me'. That's basically what Dr. Clara told me. 

She said that I have to stay there until I become as she would call 'emotionally stable'. 

I have no idea what she's talking about. 

I'm fine...!

Just fine...

As I lay there, I feel the random burst of tingles running through my body. It makes me shiver, and for once in the last forever, I wish I had kept it with me.

I could get it, but do I really deserve a blanket?

I mean, after everything that's happened today, do I deserve it really?

The floor is freezing after all, and what if I freeze to death down here?!

My face changes expression, and suddenly, it got a whole lot darker. 

Would that really be so bad though?

No, I can't think like that... I just can't... 

Rolling over to my left side, I look at the dark green blankets once more. 

Ya know what? Screw it! I'm cold!

My hoof snatches up the blanket as I wrap myself in it. It's soft as silk, the texture rubbing up against my fur and making me snuggle further inside. It reminds me of the teddy I never had, and I imagine holding it tight, squeezing out my anxiety. 

And in a few minutes, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper asleep. I imagine her teddy in my hooves, us staying up until late and talking about who knows what.

The last thing I envision before sinking into internal sleep is her. 

Her smile, her laugh, her confidence. 

My heart breaks. 

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