Post by Diamond on May 18, 2013 5:25:44 GMT -5
"C, can I go outside today? Please?" I asked. Only I wasn't asking. I was pleading. I was begging. I was on my knees looking up at Doctor Holiday who cast a quiet, empty smile in my direction.
I hated his freaking guts.
"No, Diamond, not today. I think it's raining today. You want to go out in the sun, don't you? No, not today." He said with a wave of his hoof. A wave of disappointment washed over me, and I slumped back to my bed, my ears scraping the sound of my room door shutting. And locking.
I had been at Lifeline Hospital for almost three weeks now. Three weeks since I'd crushed the world's Record for Highest flying filly. Three weeks since I'd crashed to the ground and crumpled my body into nothing more than a colorful heap on the ground, and three weeks since I'd been told I was sick.
See, apparently, going up so high in the sky has it's consequences. Pegasi aren't supposed to fly as high as I did. They aren't supposed to spend time above the high cap, the place where the air gets to thin and the winds get to cold. So now I'm sick. I'm real sick. We're talking "Ain't gonna get better sick. "
...
We're talking no more next birthday sick.
...
We're talking six months sick.
Six whole months. You never think about that sort of thing. You wake up in the morning, and you hunt for food, and you try to stay out of trouble- you go to sleep, and thats that. Time and your life, and everything is eternal. It just keeps going on and on and on and you never pay attention to it. And just like that, two little words: "Six Months" and you see Eternity's end.
Time stops becoming infinite when you realize that the reality of your morality is your an awaiting fatality. Your legacy turned into a sadistic statistic for a book somewhere. A number. Not the Miracle Mare. Not the Impossible Pony. Not the Fantastic Filly. Just a number in a book- the number of recorded deaths from being a stupid filly trying to save a stupid foal.
Doctor Holiday promised me he could help though. But my money was all donated to Criss Cross to get him better. There wasn't enough for me- or medications, or a hospital stay. He said there was another way. He said my body was special- something he'd never seen before. All I had to do, was let him observe me, and take samples and experiment, and I could stay at the hospital for free!
It was too good to be true.
So I accepted.
...
It was too good to be true.
The first night wasn't so bad. The nurses were really nice and bought me food to eat and I had a bed to sleep on! It was a pretty crummy bed, and the food was like crewing plastic, but it was better than sleeping in the mud in a sewer tunnel.
I couldn't wait to get better and go out and see my friends again! All I had to do, was wait for Doctor Holiday to cure me! That was three weeks ago.
The second night is when he asked me for a sample of my blood. I asked how and he showed me a needle. It was my first time seeing one, and I asked him if it would hurt. He laughed and told me the "Fantastic Filly" had nothing to fear from an everyday needle. So I said ok. I held out my arm for him, like he asked, and he tried to pierce me with it- only it didn't work. It shattered against my arm. He got a new needle and tried again, and again, and each one shattered. He said he'd be back, and when he returned, he had...he didn't have a needle.
He was holding a bone saw. I was having second thoughts, but my protest wasn't exactly something he wanted to hear. I don't know why it scared me so much, but I bolted from the room. I went racing down the corridors trying to find the doors, but before I could get out the orderlies pounced me. One of them holding me down on the floor- a giant gray stallion. I screamed, and kicked and tried to wriggle away, but he was resistant to my hapless attempts.
Doctor Holiday appeared a few minutes later. I begged him to stop, maybe we could find a different way to take a sample, but he wasn't listening. The orderly held out my arm, and I watched the saw go to work on my wrist.
"NO NO NO! STOP!!! PLEASE STOP!! SOMEPONY HELP ME!!! DON'T CUT ME UP!!!" I screamed. The hospital was silent...the only noise was the sawing sound and the beautiful gush of the sample they were looking for.
The orderly picked me up after that, dragged me back into my room, and dropped me on the bed. That’s when they started locking the door. That’s when I realized I wasn’t at this hospital for healing.
Doctor Holiday started giving me pills after that. He said it was medicine to help me better. They made me sleepy, and sometimes, I’d fall asleep in the middle of conversations, or looking out the window, or trying to write a letter to my friends. When I woke up, I was always on my bed. I always had a headache, and there were always different bandages over random parts of my body. I told them I didn’t wanna take the pills anymore, but Doctor Holiday ‘insisted’ that I keep taking them. He said they were to help me get better. But the blotches on my nose and body were getting worse. They were starting to show up on my neck and there was even one under my eyes.
I wondered if Star Strider and the others were worried about me? Or maybe they gave up and left me behind. I hadn’t seen them since the competition, and I hadn’t heard about Criss Cross. I kept asking to see him, but they kept telling me he couldn’t be disturbed. He was very sick and they were trying to make him better. I was sick too, and I didn’t want to be contagious, did I? So I stayed away.
After a while, I asked the Doctor if maybe I could go outside for a little while. He laughed and told me I wasn’t better yet, but if I was a really REALLY good girl, I could if I didn’t give him any trouble. So I took all the pills they gave me, and I didn’t struggle when they held me down to take blood, or samples. I did everything they asked me to do, and…
Well…
Every day I asked it was raining. Or it was too hot, or too cold out. Or I had a temperature somedays and I couldn’t climb out of bed. Or somedays I was too sleepy after all the pills I took. But I wanted to go outside- I wanted to smell the air and fly…but I wasn’t allowed to fly. They told me I was too sick.
I don’t like it in here, Diary. Doctor Holiday says I’m gonna get better, but if I don’t I’ll make a lot of ponies better so it won’t be in vain, and best of all, I was going to make him quite a bit of money. And I asked him what he meant, and he laughed and locked the door. I don’t like my room, it’s too small, and so cramped and I don’t even have enough room to fly! I have to get out. I HAVE TO GET OUT!!! I screamed and cried and banged on the door, and one of the Orderlies came in and told me to be quiet. I told him I wanted to leave and I didn’t care about being sick anymore, and that Doctor Holiday was a liar and a jerkface.
…I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in a room with weird walls. They were soft and squishy, and I was wrapped up in this weird scarf thing where I couldn’t move my arms or my wings. I don’t like it in here, Diary. It’s scary.
I want to go back to Star Strider and my friends. I don’t care if I’m sick. I just wanna go outside. I wanna go home. I know I don’t have a home, but I guess even the orphanage is better than this. I can’t stop crying, and it’s dark in here- there isn’t a light or windows or anything. I just wanna go outside. I promise I won’t be bad anymore. I’ll take all my medicine and I’ll let them take all the samples they want. I just wanna go outside.
…please?
I hated his freaking guts.
"No, Diamond, not today. I think it's raining today. You want to go out in the sun, don't you? No, not today." He said with a wave of his hoof. A wave of disappointment washed over me, and I slumped back to my bed, my ears scraping the sound of my room door shutting. And locking.
I had been at Lifeline Hospital for almost three weeks now. Three weeks since I'd crushed the world's Record for Highest flying filly. Three weeks since I'd crashed to the ground and crumpled my body into nothing more than a colorful heap on the ground, and three weeks since I'd been told I was sick.
See, apparently, going up so high in the sky has it's consequences. Pegasi aren't supposed to fly as high as I did. They aren't supposed to spend time above the high cap, the place where the air gets to thin and the winds get to cold. So now I'm sick. I'm real sick. We're talking "Ain't gonna get better sick. "
...
We're talking no more next birthday sick.
...
We're talking six months sick.
Six whole months. You never think about that sort of thing. You wake up in the morning, and you hunt for food, and you try to stay out of trouble- you go to sleep, and thats that. Time and your life, and everything is eternal. It just keeps going on and on and on and you never pay attention to it. And just like that, two little words: "Six Months" and you see Eternity's end.
Time stops becoming infinite when you realize that the reality of your morality is your an awaiting fatality. Your legacy turned into a sadistic statistic for a book somewhere. A number. Not the Miracle Mare. Not the Impossible Pony. Not the Fantastic Filly. Just a number in a book- the number of recorded deaths from being a stupid filly trying to save a stupid foal.
Doctor Holiday promised me he could help though. But my money was all donated to Criss Cross to get him better. There wasn't enough for me- or medications, or a hospital stay. He said there was another way. He said my body was special- something he'd never seen before. All I had to do, was let him observe me, and take samples and experiment, and I could stay at the hospital for free!
It was too good to be true.
So I accepted.
...
It was too good to be true.
The first night wasn't so bad. The nurses were really nice and bought me food to eat and I had a bed to sleep on! It was a pretty crummy bed, and the food was like crewing plastic, but it was better than sleeping in the mud in a sewer tunnel.
I couldn't wait to get better and go out and see my friends again! All I had to do, was wait for Doctor Holiday to cure me! That was three weeks ago.
The second night is when he asked me for a sample of my blood. I asked how and he showed me a needle. It was my first time seeing one, and I asked him if it would hurt. He laughed and told me the "Fantastic Filly" had nothing to fear from an everyday needle. So I said ok. I held out my arm for him, like he asked, and he tried to pierce me with it- only it didn't work. It shattered against my arm. He got a new needle and tried again, and again, and each one shattered. He said he'd be back, and when he returned, he had...he didn't have a needle.
He was holding a bone saw. I was having second thoughts, but my protest wasn't exactly something he wanted to hear. I don't know why it scared me so much, but I bolted from the room. I went racing down the corridors trying to find the doors, but before I could get out the orderlies pounced me. One of them holding me down on the floor- a giant gray stallion. I screamed, and kicked and tried to wriggle away, but he was resistant to my hapless attempts.
Doctor Holiday appeared a few minutes later. I begged him to stop, maybe we could find a different way to take a sample, but he wasn't listening. The orderly held out my arm, and I watched the saw go to work on my wrist.
"NO NO NO! STOP!!! PLEASE STOP!! SOMEPONY HELP ME!!! DON'T CUT ME UP!!!" I screamed. The hospital was silent...the only noise was the sawing sound and the beautiful gush of the sample they were looking for.
The orderly picked me up after that, dragged me back into my room, and dropped me on the bed. That’s when they started locking the door. That’s when I realized I wasn’t at this hospital for healing.
Doctor Holiday started giving me pills after that. He said it was medicine to help me better. They made me sleepy, and sometimes, I’d fall asleep in the middle of conversations, or looking out the window, or trying to write a letter to my friends. When I woke up, I was always on my bed. I always had a headache, and there were always different bandages over random parts of my body. I told them I didn’t wanna take the pills anymore, but Doctor Holiday ‘insisted’ that I keep taking them. He said they were to help me get better. But the blotches on my nose and body were getting worse. They were starting to show up on my neck and there was even one under my eyes.
I wondered if Star Strider and the others were worried about me? Or maybe they gave up and left me behind. I hadn’t seen them since the competition, and I hadn’t heard about Criss Cross. I kept asking to see him, but they kept telling me he couldn’t be disturbed. He was very sick and they were trying to make him better. I was sick too, and I didn’t want to be contagious, did I? So I stayed away.
After a while, I asked the Doctor if maybe I could go outside for a little while. He laughed and told me I wasn’t better yet, but if I was a really REALLY good girl, I could if I didn’t give him any trouble. So I took all the pills they gave me, and I didn’t struggle when they held me down to take blood, or samples. I did everything they asked me to do, and…
Well…
Every day I asked it was raining. Or it was too hot, or too cold out. Or I had a temperature somedays and I couldn’t climb out of bed. Or somedays I was too sleepy after all the pills I took. But I wanted to go outside- I wanted to smell the air and fly…but I wasn’t allowed to fly. They told me I was too sick.
I don’t like it in here, Diary. Doctor Holiday says I’m gonna get better, but if I don’t I’ll make a lot of ponies better so it won’t be in vain, and best of all, I was going to make him quite a bit of money. And I asked him what he meant, and he laughed and locked the door. I don’t like my room, it’s too small, and so cramped and I don’t even have enough room to fly! I have to get out. I HAVE TO GET OUT!!! I screamed and cried and banged on the door, and one of the Orderlies came in and told me to be quiet. I told him I wanted to leave and I didn’t care about being sick anymore, and that Doctor Holiday was a liar and a jerkface.
…I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in a room with weird walls. They were soft and squishy, and I was wrapped up in this weird scarf thing where I couldn’t move my arms or my wings. I don’t like it in here, Diary. It’s scary.
I want to go back to Star Strider and my friends. I don’t care if I’m sick. I just wanna go outside. I wanna go home. I know I don’t have a home, but I guess even the orphanage is better than this. I can’t stop crying, and it’s dark in here- there isn’t a light or windows or anything. I just wanna go outside. I promise I won’t be bad anymore. I’ll take all my medicine and I’ll let them take all the samples they want. I just wanna go outside.
…please?