Happiness Is What You Make Of It

by Nameless Narrator

15

So... the rest of the day is free. Should I walk around to get a better feel for this place? I mean, Border Glades is a quite complex building, but a very regular and systematic one. Being more familiar with the layout can never hurt. Humming quietly to myself, I take a leisure stroll through the top floor full of offices, and then head downstairs.

There aren't that many ponies around at this time, likely because of afternoon treatments or just having a rest. Very few patient rooms have open doors, but I return a smile to those ponies who throw a glance my way as I pass by. Wardens patrol the hallways, alert but chill enough to stop and chat with one another. Nurses walk around with a sense of purpose, always aiming for a certain room or a patient.

Somepony's whistling a friendly tune, I notice as I reach the ground floor. It can't be far, because this place is the most lively and thus full of disruptive noise. A door nearby is open, letting out some sort of buzzing and the whistling. I blow a long strand of my violet mane away from my face, and peek inside, ready to leave at any moment in case I'm interrupting something.

A young, pink-maned, white unicorn mare is levitating an electric shaver, putting some finishing touches on a collared grey earthpony patient's mane.

"Aaaand all done," she pats her customer's head, who bows, thanks her, and leaves. After a short while, she notices me still examining the interior of the... manedresser's salon? "Are you here for a mane cut, sir?"

"Umm, meybee?"

My coat hasn't grown too much since I set myself on fire, but my mane is getting unpleasantly long, and was all sticky with sweat after the morning yoga. Better to have it gone.

"I take it you don't have an appointment, then," she smiles, sweeping away the earlier patient's mess, "but if you want I can take you now."

"Shure, mem."

"Don't just stand out there then," she chuckles at my indecisivness, "I don't bite."

The salon is on the small side, offering only two chairs for customers and feeling a little cramped with shelves upon shelves of mane products lining the walls. She stops her sweeping and sits me down on the unused chair. A wide apron-like cloth is tied around my neck to prevent my hair from landing on me, and she circles me from all sides, furrowing her brows and humming to herself.

"Ken Ai help yoo?"

"Huh?" she snaps out of her examining me and blinks, "No no no, I'm just wondering... who did your mane last time? It looks as if a dog chewed it off."

"Ai deed."

She's taken aback, shoving a hoof in her mouth.

"I'm, erm, sorry..."

"Its fain, mem. Ai just needed a short main den. Eet kept stikking too everyteenk."

Seeing I'm not mad at her remark, she recovers.

"Well then, I... I think I can do some styling. Would you like a ponytail? I think it would suit you, even if your mane isn't overly long."

"Ken yoo just cut eet short? Eet klings to mee wen Aim all sweatee."

"Awww," she pouts but lightens up instantly again, "I'll think of something as I go, hmm? I'm going to feel bad if I just shave it off after being so rude."

I'm not sure why she's making so much fuss about it.

"Yoo were not rood, just rite."

"Still, my bad."

Shrugging, I relax in the chair and let her hooves spread some liquid smelling of cherries over the top of my head. With my eyes closed to avoid dripping and bubbles, I listen as she starts whistling the tune I caught before again, completely focused on her work.

"So, what are you here for?" she asks as she dries my head and the shaver starts buzzing again, "Something with the way you speak?"

"Wot? Nou, mem. Ai set maiself on fayr."

"Dear Celestia, why would anypony do that?" her implement jerking in surprise takes away a good chunk of my mane at once, "Oh, darn it!"

"Ai maid a meestake... dey keep telling mee."

She recovers, and mirrors the groove she accidentally made on one side of my head on the other.

"Do you think they are wrong?"

If it was possible to hear a raised eyebrow, I would be hearing it now.

"Ai teenk Ai head a good reeson but dey sed Ai wos teenkeeng wrong."

"You must have," her hoof brushes some hair off my head, "I've been here a while, seen some suicidal patients, and they always have the same distant stare. Nothing like you, you feel warm."

"Dets d shampoo end hot water, Ai teenk."

"Oh you," she taps my shoulder, and a mirror levitates in front of me, "So, what do you think?"

"Ai em shure dat ees a meeror, mem."

She snorts and the piece of glass bonks my nose.

"Come on."

It's still me, obviously, but instead of frayed purple mess cut in places almost to the skin and left where I didn't reach in strands, it is a short, even, carpet-like cut ending in a V pointing down my neck at my back likely from her little accident.

"Ai look laik a ponee nau, not laik a swomp monster."

Is that a good thing? Before, ponies would avoid me and not waste their precious time. Now, now they might want to talk to me. What do I do?

I shake my head. No need to stress, my true nature will always surface quickly, and ponies will realize in few words there is nothing for them in my company.

"Glad you like it," she babbles cheerfully, and puts the mirror away, "How long are you staying here?"

"Aid laik to gou nau, mem. Aim getting reelly taird," I slip off my chair, careful to avoid the purple mess of hair underneath.

"I mean here in Border Glades."

"Ou, Ai dont nou. Noponee told mee yet. Dey sed until Ai got better."

She chuckles, helping me take the apron off.

"Alright, then I might see you again in few weeks, especially if you want to keep your mane short. Name's Diamond Edge," she extends her hoof.

Hah! I know what to do with this now.

"Greyscale," I shake the offered appendage.

"Short and snappy, I like it. Have a nice evening, Greyscale."

"Yoo too, mees Diemond Etch."

Fresh and relaxed after the panic attack with doctor Clear Insight, I think I'll have a rest until dinner.

"We've still got stuff to do with the pills," Stitches whispers in my ear while I walk upstairs towards my room, "I've got an idea, but we're gonna need a blood sample."

"Ai kant stab ponees!" some patients turn their heads my way at my surprised outburst.

"YOUR blood, dummy."

"Oh, okey."

The door of my room closes behind me, cutting off most of the outside noise. I'd never notice how loud everything was out there without the soundproofed room.

"Now, what could we use to draw blood we need to make a thing against the yellows?" Stitches asks. I put him on the table to have a clearer view unobstructed by my head.

"A teenk?" I ask, unsure what the guard plushie means by 'a thing against yellows'. Strange expression. Or maybe not, maybe I'm just not smart enough to understand a magical talking toy.

"Yes, a 'thing'."

Perhaps I could break a splinter off of the door separating my room from the bathroom? Several exploratory kicks tell me that's not happening. The door is too sturdy and slightly padded.

"How about the screws holding the canvas stand down?"

Good idea. Their heads are half-spheres, hard but smooth. However, there are grooves for the screwdriver. I try to scratch my leg against it. It irritates, hurts, but I'd have to be doing this for a very agonizing while before achieving any result.

"Yeah, that would be a torture and I have no doubt you would scream. We don't want anypony here for the time being."

"Oooh," I look at the canvast stand itself. An idea! "How about a peipr kut?"

Not waiting for approval, I start rubbing my fetlock against the paper with stick ponies on it, my last project. Not much happens aside from the paper getting seriously crumpled.

Stitches is watching me, unimpressed. It seems that paper cuts only come when you really don't want them.

"Hey, dis mite work!"

The plastic paint brushes are sturdy, but I wedge one between the bars on my window, and push with all my might. It breaks, leaving a sharp point and a servicable edge.

"Not bad," Stitches admires my work, "Can it actually cut something, though?"

Sliding the polished plastic against my fetlock harmlessly, I must admit it looked better at first than it's performing. Hmm, the tip is still very sharp, though.

Careful... careful... poke...

Stab.

"Owwwwww," I watch the blood stream from my leg. It's a lot... a quickly growing puddle. Everything is getting blurry, "Ai dun feel gud..."

"Crap," I hear Stitches through the gushing in my ears, "That worked well. Too well."

Thud.

Everything goes black.

---

*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Not again...

"Just like the report from the castle stated, he heals very fast. That's not the shocking thing, though. I mean, how is he still alive? The damage to his veins, sinews, even an artery, coupled with the amount of blood all around when the wardens found him would kill anypony even before I could stitch him up."

Hmm, a new voice.

"Yes, that is indeed a mystery. However, it does happen, doesn't it... sometimes? Ponies clinging to life through even the darkest of times and through all pain and suffering."

This one I know. That was Clear Insight.

"That doesn't make it any less miraculous. Some sort of lucky blood clotting around the wound or something. Heck, I'm a surgeon and I have no clue how that could have happened. Still, he's getting better with every day and that's all that matters."

"Indeed."

"Eets all d good food yoo serve heer," I croak. They've been nice to me so far while I just caused trouble. They deserve a compliment. Much more when it's true.

Surprised gasps come from all sides.

"You are awake?" Clear Insight is completely taken aback when I open my eyes. The world is still wobbly, but it's not spinning all around at least. He turns to another pony who is wearing a white overcoat and a stethoscope, "Leave us alone, will you?"

"Sure, if anything goes wrong I'm just outside the door," the doctor walks off, leaving me only with Clear Insight on one side of my bed and the towering form of Chiseled Chin on the other.

I try to turn around to take a better look, but I can't move my legs. Not just the one I stabbed clean through, but all of them.

"Do not thrash around," Chiseled Chin rumbles, "You are bound to the bed for your own protection."

As she said, I can only move my head and neck. All my legs are tied up.

"Wai?"

"That is what I should be asking," Insight frowns, but keeps his voice calm, "Why did you do it, Greyscale?"

"Steeches told mee too."

"The stuffed toy?" he pushes his glasses dislodged when I spoke for the first time back up on his muzzle.

"Yes."

He sighs wearily, looking at the floor with a bitter expression.

"Greyscale, I said multiple times before that I believe you to be an intelligent pony. Let us start with the basic things - plushies do not talk."

"But Ai herd-"

He raises his hoof.

"Please, let me finish. You heard a voice that was not your own telling you to do things, am I right?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Chin," he looks up at the head nurse, "Go to his room and bring the toy here."

Chiseled Chin quickly trots off, and Clear Insight turns back to me.

"Voices of that sort never aim to do you good, Greyscale. They are called hallucinations, and usually come from your brain working through some kind of pressure or stress. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, yoo ar traying to make mee feel better."

"Good," he smiles, "I have met many patients who kept seeing or hearing things. The most important thing is to admit the hallucinations are not real. You might hear the voices, but you need to understand that your judgement is important, not theirs. Don't listen, no matter what. We will adjust the pills you're taking and your schedule to accommodate for new treatments, but I believe in you, Greyscale. I know you can do your best to help us help you."

"But Steeches reely tolked, just laik yor lokkit!"

"My... locket?" he gives me a puzzled stare. I strain against my bonds, but can't move, so I just shake my head and try to touch the collar with my muzzle. It doesn't work that well since I'm not made of rubber, but he gets the idea, "Oh, you mean the patient collar. Greyscale, those are made to inform lost patients about their location, schedule, or diet, monitor their basic vital signs, and tell us of their movements. That is all they do. There is no intelligence in them, just technology and magic. Your 'plushie' proved an intent to harm you."

"Ai... Ai... hee just sed Ai needed a blood sample."

"Whatever for?" his surprise grows.

At that point, the door to the hospital room or whatever this place is opens, and Chiseled Chin returns with my Nightguard plush stained with drying blood. I must have kicked Stitches down from the table when I collapsed or something.

"Meybee... meybee Steeches wos maid too protekt mee. Eklips gave him to mee to keep mee safe. Hee mite bee a Nitegaard on a super seecret misshun end needs to bee sneekee. Sey someteenk, Steeches."

I'm grasping at straws. I had a friend for a brief while. Are they telling me it was just my imagination? Maybe... maybe Eclipse, Grey Shrine, and Piercing Hit knew I was wrong inside and sent me here not because I hurt myself, but so I learned not to listen to the voice inside me telling me to do it again?

Did they all lie to me that I just needed rest?

Silence.

"Steeches? Plees?"

Nothing. My pleading is completely fruitless. Stitches doesn't move or talk.

"It seems the voice you're hearing is focused around Stitches here," Insight levitates the plushie up and looks at him from all sides, "There are no traces of magic, nor any obvious mechanisms, Greyscale. It is just a stuffed pony, albeit a rather well done one. It cannot talk. We're going to have to confiscate it for now."

"Wot? Nou, plees!"

He levitates the toy to Chiseled Chin.

"Let the doctor back in, Chin, and take the toy away for safekeeping."

She starts walking towards the door.

"Eets d first teenk Aiv ever gotten! From d first ponee woo laikd mee! GEEV EET BAK!" I scream, shaking so hard the bedframe creaks, but eventually the pain in my tied up legs forces me to stop, and I just whine, exhausted and crying without having any idea where the outburst came from.

"Greyscale," Insight puts a hoof on my head and I try to move away. He strokes my freshly-cut mane, "We'll give you your friend back, but first we need to fix your head so he doesn't try to hurt you again."

"But hee reely tolked."

He sighs.

"What did I say about denying the voices? Stitches is not the one talking, your insecurities, stress, and fears are. We'll keep you in bed until you're physically better. You recover exceptionally fast, but unless we know what's behind it we're not going to risk anything. I hate to prescribe something as harsh and crude, but you'll be undergoing hydrotherapy in order to assert some negative reinforcement about the voices."

"Laik drinkeeng? Moar joos? Ai laik d orenj uan."

"No, not really. If it makes you feel any better, these voices are often accompanying factors of schizophrenia, of multiple personalities in one mind, and serious cases of such illness rarely remember the periods when their alternate minds were in control. So... maybe this incident will help us in curing your amnesia in the end."

I wish I understood, but I just yawn. Things are blurring again, and it's not due to the tears of loss. From the corner of my eye, I see the surgeon-looking unicorn empty a syringe of some liquid into my flank.

Heh, I didn't even feel a-

Comments

[Thought Prism]

Wait, he ran his entire leg through for a blood sample? Man, he really does misinterpret everything.

[Nameless Narrator]

7481294 It wasn'T really intentional, just used a bit too much force.