A Rose Reverie

Josh Meihaus

"Have you reached a verdict?"

Those words were the most important I've ever heard; the words that would change my life forever, regardless of the outcome.

"We have," the head juror pony said solemnly.

My entire body began to shake as I awaited the decision. I tried to calm my breathing, but it was no use; his next words would either be the beginning or the end of my life as I knew it.

"Be strong, Pinkie," my lawyer said as he gripped my hoof.

I nodded and blinked back tears. Despite his words, I was restless as a newly fledged pegasus.

What will they say? Will it matter? Even if I'm found innocent, will they take me back?

"We find the defendant, Pinkemina Diane Pie,"

My entire body froze as I awaited those next words, my breathing seemed to stop. Whatever he said, it would change me forever.

"Guilty."

The very blood on my veins turned cold as he uttered that word. I sat back with wide eyes; his words echoed in the packed courtroom. My mouth hung agape, my eyes started to fill with tears as the weight of his statement finally hit home.

My lawyer could only look at me with a crushing expression; his mouth quavered as his eyes displayed a horrified emotion.

The judge nodded slowly at his words. "Understood."

He turned to me with cold eyes. "The minimum sentence for second degree murder is typically twenty-five years."

My eyes widened; twenty-five years?

"However," he said, giving my the slightest glimmer of hope, "Due to a personal appeal on the part of Princess Celestia, as well as a number of mitigating factors, I have decided to go lenient."

I looked up at him with a pleading expression, begging for the details my punishment.

"Rather than a prison sentence, we have decided to send you to Autumn Acres, a mental health facility in Ponyville. This way your friends can come to visit you, and attempt to bring you back to full health."

Full health? I'm already at full health, nothing is wrong with me! I'm not crazy, and I'm not guilty! I'm innocent!

"Please escort the defendant to her transfer vehicle," he addressed the police officer standing to his right.

The officer approached me, brandishing a pair of hoof cuffs as he walked.

"I'll go quietly," I told him as my tears fell to the courtroom floor. "There's no need for those."

To my shock, he actually heeded my words. He placed the cuffs in his utility belt, he took one of my hooves in his as he led me from behind the bench.

As we walked down the aisles of spectators, I saw a myriad of of emotions. Regret, pity and malice; they were on the faces of every pony in the courtroom. But there were five that jumped out at me.

Those five, the ponies that I had once called friends; they stood there with bittersweet smiles on their faces. Their expressions made it seem as if I were simply going away on vacation; nothing about their faces said that their testimonies had just doomed me to a life of Celestia knows what.

"Are you happy now?" I whispered to them as we approached the courtroom doors. "Is this what you wanted?"

"No, it wasn't," Twilight replied with a shake of her head. "But we had no choice; justice had to be done."

"Then why wasn't it done? I'm not guilty, this isn't justice!"

"We all saw what you did, Pinkie," Rainbow said. "We can't blame you for it after everything that happened, but something had to be done."

"After what happened? Nothing happened!"

"We all saw it, sugarcube," Applejack spoke up. "You can't keep lyin' to yourself this way."

"I'm not lying to myself!" I shouted as the tears streamed down my face. "I'm innocent! I'm..."

I'm back. That memory always brings me back.

It's a shame, really; before that memory forced its way in, I was having the most wonderful dream.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, Fluttershy was... fluttering? Whatever. It was our first spring picnic: a perfect way to celebrate another successful Winter Wrap-Up.

I was pouncing all over the place, happy as could be. The weather hadn't been this beautiful in a long time, and I was determined to enjoy it.

We were all playing freeze tag! Spike was it, and Twilight kept teleporting him any time he got too close to one of us. Even Rarity joined in! I know, that's a shocker, right?

Spike was about to quit as soon as Rainbow flew away. Maybe I was being too soft, letting him catch me; it didn't matter. I wanted a turn!

Feeling the wind in my magenta mane, the grass under my hooves and the rush of adrenaline in my veins... it was incredible. Fun is my life blood; I don't know what I would do if I couldn't pony around.

I was closing in on one of them. No doubt she would have complained it was because of a hoof cramp, but that's just Rarity for you.

I was almost there. I reached out, inches from touching her tail. Just a little more and-

But then that memory came floating into my mind, it shook me awake just like it always does. The courtroom, the verdict, that jolt back to reality; it has all become routine now.

I just wake up in my bed every morning, shackled to my own banisters and wishing with all my heart what I dreamed was true.

All the while knowing it can never be.

I've long since given up hope; this is my life now.

"N-nurse?" I say nervously to the intercom. "I'm awake."

"Good morning, dear."

She says it sweet as can be, as if she's talking to a newborn filly. But I know how she views me: she thinks I'm a monster.

"I see your probation is up today; would you like to eat in the dining hall?" she asks.

Even though she can't see me, I give a slight nod as my lips quaver. "I'd like that. I haven't seen my friends in weeks."

There's a slight stutter in my voice; even I can hear it.

I hear a click as the intercom switches off. Finally, she's coming to let me out.

A tear escapes my eye. I can't help it; I don't want to help it. Sometimes I need to cry; I need to let a little pain out every once in a while.

From what little I can move my head, I look around the room I'm in. I wonder why I even bother to look at it anymore? It never changes.

Never... not since the first day I came here.

"What do you think?"

Those were the first words Janice ever said to me; the question always made me laugh. She showed me a completely blank room with little more than a bed and a toilet, and she wanted to know what I thought?

"It's fine, I guess. It's just a little bit... white."

A little white? They might as well have doused the whole room in bleach. The The metal bed frame was even painted that same boring color. Except for the desk and striped carpet, everything was completely colorless.

"I guess so," Janice admitted. "But you get used to it after a while. Think about it: you get a whole room to yourself!"

I sighed deeply before slumping on the bed. "Whatever you say."

"Aren't you going to come out for breakfast?" she encouraged. "There are other patients who would just love to meet you."

"Are there now?" I asked as my spirits became the tiniest bit brighter. "I think I could handle that. Maybe this place won't be so bad."

Maybe.

It seems like that word applies to everything that happens here. "Maybe this place won't be so bad!"

What a joke.

Maybe part of me wants my polyester rug to burst into flames, or sprout legs and run away. Maybe I want the desk to grow a mustache and sing show tunes, or the window to grow arms and start finger parting; maybe something will happen that will finally break through the monotony of the white walls and bolted door.

I can't help but sigh as a tear slips onto my bedsheets. That door is always locked, always the barrier between me and the outside world. How many years has it been? Should I even bother counting anymore? Wat do these notches on my headboard mean? Days? Weeks? Months? Should I care?

No, my conscience tells me. You know you're never leaving.

Of course I know that. I've always known that, even from my first day here. Does it matter that I didn't commit that crime? Not at all. Does it matter that I'm not responsible for that murder? Gosh, why would it?

They'll never believe me; I've just got to take the good with the bad.

Amazing how little "good" there is to take; I've got nothing left but optimism.

I hear the loud click of my door being unlocked. It swings open quietly, yet with a sight creak. That's strange; it must not have as much oil as it usually does, or else it wouldn't creak at all.

Ugh, I know I've been here too long when I can tell how well the door's hinges are oiled.

A white clad unicorn trots into the room. "How are you doing this morning, dear?" she asks.

Are you serious? I'm chained to my own bed, and you want to know how I'm doing? Let me get up from this cotton tomb and I'll show you how I'm doing.

But I swallow my pride; it takes a lot more willpower than one might think. "Just fine, Janice," I say with a smile so fake it hurts. "I'd like to go to breakfast, if that's OK."

She nods, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile. "Of course, sweetie."

Dear Celestia, the way she addresses me is fitting only for a blank flank. Either she's totally oblivious to how much I hate her, or she's just doing it on purpose.

But I shake it off. If I lash out, I'll go back on probation, and there is no way I'm spending another month in this room. It's worth being treated like a filly to get these stupid shackles off.

Finally, she unsnaps the bindings. It feels wonderful to have those restraints off; it's as if I haven't moved my hooves in days.

She leaves the room momentarily and returns with a metal wheelchair in tow.

No, this I will not do. Are you kidding me? I may be stuck in this place, but my hooves haven't been amputated. "I can walk, thank you," I say as politely as possible.

"Pinkie, we've been through this before," she replies. "It has nothing to do with whether or not you can walk; it's a rule. When you were placed in our care, there was a specific request-"

"What, that you don't let me use my own four hooves?"

I can't help but snap; she's asking for it.

"Please, Pinkie," the nurse begs, "Don't make me do it."

A syringe starts to glow on the cart just outside the door. Would you look at that? They brought a whole cart full of downers just for me. I guess I've built myself a bit of a reputation here.

I let out a deep breath; my glare never wavers. "Fine."

A sit reluctantly in the cushy seat as she wheels me out the door and down the pure white hallway.

"This place isn't really that bad, is it dear?" she asks as we pass the numerous barred windows and locked doors dotting the hallways. "Everything is taken care of for you! You don't have to worry about a thing."

I heave deeply. "Tell me how you would feel, not even being able to walk on your own hooves for-"

"Six years?" she suggests. "It's your sixth anniversary with us today."

"If you say so."

So that's how long I've been here. Six years of betrayal, seventy-two months of being treated like a foal twenty-four hours a day. 2,190 days since the last time I stood in the sunlight, or felt the breeze on my coat.

I barely notice as we exit the hallway and roll into the dining room. I've got to come here to eat, sure, but being in this room never ceases to depress me. Every time I come in, every time I roll through the door sitting in that stupid wheelchair, every time I see ponies either drooling over their oatmeal or flailing and screaming at other patients, I can't help but think-

"I don't belong here."

And I don't. I really, truly don't. They all say I did something horrible, but I know I didn't. They'll swear I'm in here for a reason, but they'll never listen to me.

"What was that, dear?"

Shoot, I must have said that out loud. "It's nothing," I tell her. "I think I can take things from here."

She beams down at me as if I'm five years old. "I'm sure that's alright, considering what day it is."

She lets go of the wheelchair and makes for the door. Finally, a little solitude. Maybe I'll even see one of my friends today.

I get up from the rolling chair and stomp away from it in disgust. There is no way I'm sinking to that level; rolling everywhere when I've got four hooves that aren't broken... No, thank you.

I walk at a simple trot. I'm not quite sure where my old, bouncy step went. Maybe this place sucked it out, like the rest of my old personality.

Funny, I say that as if there was another personality. I've been in here so long... it feels like that was all just a dream. Just one long, happy dream.

I walk to the buffet line, enjoying the sunlight as I pick up a tray. At least the shades are drawn today; there are so many windows in this room, it could be a lot brighter most of the time. I haven't a clue why the maintenance ponies feel the need to bathe the dining hall in perpetual darkness.

Sure, why not make this depressing place more depressing?

I load a few pieces of fruit onto my breakfast tray. I never have much of an appetite in this place, even though the food is decent. I sit down at one of the large, circular tables. I guess management decided having big tables would get the patients to hang out with one another and make friends.

That worked out well; everypony is sitting at their own table like it's their personal kingdom, their castle. Double-taking in every direction, they look distrustfully at everypony. Then again, the management never really understood the concept of "counter-intuitive".

I guess it helps to have something to live for in this place. Maybe guarding a table like it's her own child is everypony's way of staying sane.

Heh. Sane... yeah, that word definitely applies to most of these ponies.

I set my tray down on an empty table and start to chow down. Everything about this place seems to be dull and colorless: the dining room is a plain square; every table is a uniform circle. The food isn't awful, but there's nothing exciting about it; it's just... food. Worst of all, every other patient just does their own thing, never trying to make friends.

I've tried; oh boy, have I tried.

"Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie!" I had said on my first day here, six years ago. I may have been forced into this place for no reason, but I could at least make these ponies' lives a bit better. "What's your name?"

I laid my tray down at his table and looked at my new potential friend expectantly.

"Mrpmph," the pure gray pony responded through a mouthful of food.

My eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but I shook it off. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What's your name?"

"M-Murphy," he said slowly. He glanced around nervously before looking silently back at his food.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Murphy!" I said enthusiastically, extending a hoof toward him.

And he just stared; he looked at my extended hoof as if it was a ticking time bomb about to explode. "How did you know my name?" he demanded quietly.

"Well, you just told me," I said with that same bewildered expression. "Don't you-"

But before I could even finish my sentence, he tackled me to the ground. I could barely see what was happening; all I knew is that he was pounding me will all his might, and then a bunch of white clad ponies burst in and carted us both off. Only a few more minutes went by, and I was tied down to my bed with those horrible leather straps.

I spent two weeks like that. It wasn't my fault, of course; they don't care. They see a fight going on and both parties are punished, no exceptions.

This place seems to get more like a prison every day.

"Havin' a good lunch, Pinkie?"

I jolt out of my daydreaming; I would recognize that voice anywhere.

I turn to the left and sure enough, there she is. "Hey there, Apple Bloom! Have a seat!"

After giving me a smile, she accepts my offer and plops down in the metal chair.

It always confused me: Apple Bloom is the last pony I would expect to see in this place. She was the sister of a truly down to earth mare; I'd have pegged her for the fields, or maybe the classroom. Not here, not with these freaks. In fact, how did she end up in this place? I thought there were two reasons.

"I'm so glad you're around, Pinkie; all the other cool ponies seem to have graduated."

Graduated? Well, there's the first reason. "Graduated, you say?" I ask cautiously.

"Yup! Evelyn and Gracie already got their degrees, so the lab has been quiet lately. I've had a hard time keeping up with all the work we've been getting."

That's right... Evelyn and Gracie Graham. Just two of Apple Bloom's inventions since she came here. I decide to play along, I have no reason to upset her. "I had no idea they'd graduated already! When do you move on?"

"Next year!" she replies proudly. "Just watch; I'm gonna be the first person in the Apple family to be educated. And guess what? Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and I are going to open a store in Ponyville together."

I feel my heart drop into my stomach. I want to burst out crying, but I can't, not here.

That was the second reason. "Are you, now?" I ask, slightly teary eyed as I try to hold my smile.

"Yup! We decided we want to open a grocery store. I'll be the brains, of course, and we can all-"

Her face is blank. She knows from my expression that something is wrong; her eyes are piercing me like daggers. I know she knows what I'm thinking.

"What's the matter?" she demands earnestly.

"It's- it's nothing," I assure her.

Oh, way to go. She's not going to buy that; off her rocker or not, she's a smart pony. She's going to see right through you.

"Don't lie to me; I know what it is," she says. Her eyes are already starting to glisten. "I know it's about Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo."

I can't help but be shocked, my mouth hangs agape. Could she finally be snapping out of it?

"What about them?" I encourage her. "What about Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo?"

"I know what I did to them," she tells me tearfully. "I know why they're not around anymore; I know why I'm here."

I feel like the sun has come up in my heart. "That's fantastic, Apple Bloom! That means they can finally let you out!"

She shakes her head hopelessly. "But they can't. I know what I did, but there's somepony else in here. Somepony that prevents me from knowing the truth."

What in Equestria does she mean? "But you're talking to me right now!" I insist.

"I know I am; the problem is that any moment, I'll go back to how I was before," she says shakily. "It's like I'm two different people. Just please, don't forget this. Don't forget that deep down, I know the truth."

She's shaking, obviously terrified of herself. She knows about the monster inside her; even worse, she knows she can't get rid of it.

But there is no way I'm letting an opportunity go. "No, Apple Bloom. We're going to go find somepony right now; we're going to get you cured and get you out of here!"

She tilts her head, clearly bewildered. "Out of where? Why would I want to get out of college?"

My mind can't quite register what just happened. After a long pause, I hang my head in resignation. "You're right; how silly of me. You're about to get your degree, after all."

"Yeah!" she confirms. "And did you hear? Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and I are-"

"Going to open a grocery store?" I interrupt with a watery smile. "Yeah, I heard. That's wonderful, Apple Bloom. You must be so excited."

She nods, blissfully oblivious to her state. "Well, I gotta go study for an exam! See ya later, Pinkie!"

A sniff escapes me as I wave her off. "Have a good day, Apple Bloom; good luck on your exam."

So she just wanders off to another table and does the same thing I've seen her do for four years. Every day, she comes in here and tells me about the grocery store and the college, about Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Every day she tells me she knows the truth, and every day, she snaps back to her old self: that same tortured filly, refusing to let reality catch up to her. Just like every day, I hoped she would finally come back for good.

I wonder why I still listen...

"Foal me once," as they say.

"Good morning, Pinkie!" a voice speaks up behind me.

Oh joy, here we go again. "Good morning, Dr. Joule."

My words are half-hearted, empty. This is always a bit problematic; Joule is no amateur when it comes to sniffing out liars.

"My my, aren't we chipper today?" he quipped. He noticed. But of course he did; he always notices. "Are we going to have any trouble today?"

I want so badly to give him a hoof in the chops, to squeeze the life out of him, to stamp him into the ground. Every day of being treated as either a newborn or a nightmare pushes me closer. Every time I feel those drugs slide down my throat...

Just like the first day.

"Good morning, Ms. Pie!

"It's Pinkie."

I had only been here for four hours, and I already have a chip on my shoulder. My voice is flat and surly, my expression is nothing if not vicious. But then again, the fact that I'm tied to my bed frame might have something to do with that.

"Alright then, Pinkie," he emphasized that world almost maliciously. "I've heard you caused a little trouble in the dining hall this morning.

"Me? I caused the trouble?" I demanded, turning my head to face him. "I caused that trouble? I just asked his name and he jumped me!"

"Well, be that as it may, I've brought a little something to help you relax."

And then he pulled that paper cup out. That horrible paper cup.

I started straining against the leather straps with all my might. "I swear, if you put anything down my throat-"

"Shh," he cut me off with an almost malicious grin. "No, no, Pinkie. No trouble today."

I wanted to lash out, to hurt him for putting that trash in my body, but-

But I don't, of course. I never do.

"No, doctor," I sigh in resignation. "No trouble today."

What's the point of fighting anymore?

"Good." He takes a small paper cup in hoof. I can't see them, but I know they're inside. I always know what they're trying to do in this place. "Now, open wide."

I open my mouth and allow him to dump the tiny blue pills inside.

"Now swallow!"
He says it brightly, encouragingly, as if the narcotics he's giving me are candy.

Nevertheless, I do as he commands. I won't spend another minute chained down to my bed. I feel the sugar coated cylinders slip down my throat and into my stomach.

"There's a good filly," he says with a patronizing clap on the back.

Come a little closer, Joule. I'll show you what a good filly I really am.

"Is that all then, doctor?" I inquire.

He nods. Most of the dining room is clearing out by now, so I follow suit and make for the door.

"Please, Pinkie, stay out of trouble, will you?" he calls after me.

"Trouble?" I say without looking back. "You know me; I'm not the trouble-making kind."

"If you say so," he chuckles. "Have a good day, Pinkie."

And how could I not? Their pathetic motto always comes floating back into my head:

"Every day is peaceful at Autumn Acres".