>You look up at the door to your room, your eyes widening in disbelief as the almost blindingly pink girl steps through.
>She takes in your expression and gives you an understanding smile, clasping her hands in front of her and bending toward you slightly.
>"I know it's kinda wierd, us being basically the same age and all, but your parents explained your 'special circumstances' to me, and I promise all I want to do is help."
>She gestures behind her to the man and woman that step in to flank her, their calm smiles only deepening your horror, your eyes widening as your understanding of the situation grows.
"Run."
>You're barely able to squeeze the word through your tightening throat, and Pinkie's face scrunches up in confusion as she leans forward to hear you better.
>"What was that, Anon? You have to speak up if you want me to understand you. I'm going to try really hard to make sure that we get there, but you need to try, too."
>Her sympathetic smile tears at your heart and you lurch forward, palms slamming against the plexiglass separating you from the outside word.
"RUN!"
>Your manic scream and the shuddering barrier shock Pinkie into stumbling backward as you'd hoped, but it's a small hope and swiftly quashed as she's caught gently in the arms of the man and woman behind her.
>"W-what? Why is he...? What's going on here?"
>Pinkie turns her confused gaze to the woman over her shoulder, and a calm smile greets her.
>"Why don't we get you settled in, dear, and then you can ask all the questions you want."
 
>Pinkie's eyes widen, then narrow in suspicion as she tries to pull away from the two.
>Her struggles are in vain, though, and you slowly slide down the plexiglass as you watch her jerk in their arms before slumping slowly into unconsciousness.
>Pushing Pinkie gently into the man's arms, the woman sets a small hypodermic on the dresser next to to door and smiles at you.
>"Don't worry, baby. Why don't you take a nice nap while your parents get this all squared away."
>She picks up a familiar remote from the dresser and smiles beautifically at you while the man drags Pinkie out of the room.
"You're not my parents, you monster. You won't get away with this."
>You put all the venom and hatred you can muster into your statement, but it's hard to sound confident when you've been here for months and found no clues toward your escape.
>"This must be that teenage rebellion thing they always warn you about." The man says, dusting off his hands with a chuckle and standing behind the woman with that same calm smile on his face.
>"Well, all the more reason to get our son a friend he can relate with. Nighty night, dear."
>Her hand clenches on the remote she's been playing with, and the familiar sound of gas being vented into your world fills your ears.
>As you drift off into sleep, your mind struggles to decide whether your tormentors are just adding to their collection, or if their twisted minds have come to the conclusion that you really just need a friend.
 
>You slowly wake up sprawled across your bed. From long experience you stay still, cracking an eyelid and taking in your surroundings.
>Your eye automatically homes in on the man and woman that have kept you in captivity all this time, sitting together on a couch against the wall in quiet conversation.
>As the lingering effects of the gas start to wear off, you notice a warm presence against your side.
>You can't help but jerk back, almost rolling off the bed as your wide eyes take in the supine girl beside you.
>It's been a long time since you felt another human being, and the sensation was startling enough to make you give up the game you and your captors were playing.
>You look down at her with pity, and wonder if you're a horrible person because... The smallest part of you is so, so happy she's there.
>No matter how horrible these monsters treat you, you have to admit the worst part might have been the loneliness.
>"Oh, you're awake, baby! How was my little man's nap? Sweet dreams?"
>You turn to the woman with a snarl, but keep silent beyond that.
>"Seems like he's bright eyed and bushy tailed to me, honey." The man says with a smirk. "You've got a lot on your plate today, Slugger, so I hope that's the case."
>A feral grin crosses your face as the man uses his little pet name for you. Recently you've been imagining the sound his jaw would make when you get out of here and prove to him just how much of a 'slugger' you are. With a baseball bat.
>Teeth and blood splattering across the imaginary scenery has a certain way of focusing you, even if your imagination might be a little ambitious.
>"Now, what is taking that fool girl? I'm sure I used the correct dosage, but there she is, snoring away." The woman sighed.
>"She was supposed to wake up before you so you wouldn't have to be exposed to the eventual histrionics..."
>She tosses her hair and pouts as the man pats her shoulder consolingly.
 
>"I'm sorry you're going to have to deal with that..."
>She rambles on, but your attention's being drawn away to the girl lying next to you.
>Soft mutters escape her lips and she slurps back a trickle of drool before smacking her lips.
>Your heart's torn between her cute little mannerisms warming it, and the knowledge that that peaceful face is soon going to be ravaged by terror and hopelessness.
>"Listen to your mother, son." You hear the man say quietly, and jerk your head back to them frantically.
>Obviously it's not fast enough for him, because you barely catch a glimpse of his hand on that abominable remote before pain jolts up your spine like a knife in the stomach, your vision swimming with stars.
>Your back arches as you fall onto your side on the bed, scrabbling uselessly at the source of your pain.
>You long ago realized that whatever they did to you, it's under your skin and not going anywhere.
>"So ungrateful. We go to all this trouble for you and you can't even give us the time of day." The man mutters, shaking his head.
>"That's enough, dear." The woman says, getting up and walking over to lay a hand on the plexiglass and look down at you. "He's clearly just caught up in his new playmate."
>The man shrugs as the lines of fire searing up and down your back cut out suddenly, leaving behind a dull ache you've grown sickeningly accustomed to.
>"Whatever you say, dear. Looks like we don't have time to properly discipline the lad, anyway. Our new guest is stirring."
>True to his word, your thrashing seems to have broken through Pinkie's torpor.
>She slowly lurches up to a sitting position, knuckling her eye before flinching and reaching back to rub her lower back.
>"Owieee..." She whimpers out before freezing. Slowly she brings her hand back around to stare at the red lightly smearing her fingers.
 
>She blinks, rubbing her fingers together numbly as her eyes slowly go round. Her head darts from side to side, taking in your whimpering form next to her and the two nice people that inquired into her new babysitting service.
>The two nice people separated from her by a thick sheet of plexiglass, with no discernible doors or windows on her side.
>"Whu-What..? What's? What are you-?"
>She starts breathing heavily, hand clenching the front of her shirt as her eyes grow wider and wider, snapping in to focus on the man as he gets up and saunters over to the woman's side, slipping an arm around her waist.
>"Now, I know we said you could ask all the questions you wanted. I'm so sorry, but I never said we'd answer any of them. A quick summary should do. You're here to keep our little bundle of joy company."
>She turns to the man and strokes his cheek, pouting.
>"He was getting so terribly lonely with no one else to PLAY with, we just had to remedy the situation."
>Your spine stiffens at her words and you slowly lever yourself up, pinning Pinkie with a sorrowful look.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry."
>You didn't think your whimpered apology would help much, but strangely it seems to put a sliver of steel in Pinkie's gaze as she glances at you with concern.
>Maybe she can tell you mean it, even if she doesn't understand the depths of the tragedy she's been dragged into.
>"Very polite, dear. But the sentiment is misplaced." The woman says silkily. "Why, this young strumpet should be honored to have a place at your side."
>You watch as that calm smile on the woman's face you've come to hate so much transforms into the leer you've come to see in your nightmares.
 
>"I expect you won't be acting out quite so fiercely with this lovely girl to be responsible for, oh, excuse me. To be responsible for you, dear."
>You don't miss the clear message, and now it makes far more sense why these two wold go out of their way like this.
>It doesn't matter if you don't know this girl for nothing. She's going to be your only source of human contact in this hellscape.
>You're going to come to care for her more than anything else in your existence.
>And every time you fight these two, they're going to hurt her.
>The thought almost breaks you.
>You turn to Pinkie slowly, and she's smiling at you frantically, her breath coming in quick pants.
>She already sees you as an ally in all this, playing right into this sadistic pair's hands.
>You can't stand that hopeful look and drop your eyes before what she sees in your eyes can break her, too.
>"It's okay, Anon. We'll get out of this. My friends will come looking for me, and then we'll both get out of here. We've been through worse."
>Your eyes pop back up to look at her incredulously. She's been through worse than being kidnapped and playthings for a pair of psychopaths?
>Your look doesn't seem to phase her as she turns to the aforementioned psychos with a confidant smile.
>"I don't know how you're expecting this to go, but I've gotta tell you, you're in for a doozy. My friends are gonna find me and bust this whole... Whatever it is wide open! Ohhh, you're in for- HEEaaACK!"
>Pinkie's eyes pop wide as her spine arches against her will, her teeth clenched against the pain as she totters backward onto the bed, twitching for a few moments before she relaxes, panting and whimpering.
>You watch as she curls up into a ball on her side, a hand reaching out to comfort her before you glance in your tormentor's direction.
>Is this what they want? Your hand draws slowly back to your side.
 
>"Just a taste for today, Pinkie. We understand it's a lot to take in, so we'll be lenient today. Take the time to get acquainted with our darling boy. You two will be spending a lot of quality time together, so best to his it off quickly."
>The man's nasty chuckle echoes in your ears as the two sweep out of the room, closing the door behind them.
>They don't even bother to lock it.
>Another subtle torture they inflict on you, knowing the way out's not even barred against you.
>If you could only get to it.
>Soft snuffling draws your attention to the bed by your side, and the first thing you see is... Pinkie's? They called her Pinkie, you think. In another situation the name might make you laugh.
>Pinkie's back is laid bare to you as her shirt climbs up from her curled up position, and you can see what they've now done to both of you clearly.
>A small incision just to the left of her spine is still slowly leaking blood, and directly over her spine in a smooth bump that has no place being there.
'I could just tear it out right now. Just pull it out of her and take the pain away...' You muse to yourself.
>You know better though. Who knows what kind of damage you'd do getting it out, and in the end they'd just gas you again and put it back.
>They didn't like it when you messed with their toys.
>You absently rub your neck before reaching out hesitantly to Pinkie's shoulder.
>"P-pinkie? It is Pinkie, right? Are you... Are you okay?"
>She rolls over slowly, sitting up like her body weighs a thousand pounds. Her arms hug herself fiercely as she looks up into your face, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Pic related)
>"It... It HURTS!" She bawls, throwing her arms around you and sobbing into your shirt.
>Your eyes dart around to the corners of the room, the cameras there blinking away maliciously. You know they're watching you right now.
 
>But it's too hard. You can't stop yourself even if you know it's what they want. Your arms wrap around her and hold her against you.
>It's easy to justify it. She needs you right now. She needs something to hold on to, an anchor in this swirl of madness that her life has become.
>It just makes you feel a little bit better, because it's all secondary in your mind to the fact that you're holding her.
>Someone.
>Anyone.
>It's been months since you felt the touch of another human being. Nothing but cold inanimates and your own flesh. You told yourself it wasn't so empty before, but you couldn't really convince yourself.
>Now you knew you were right. That missing piece in was in Pinkie, and you reveled in every second she was pressed against you.
>It made you sick in a detached sort of way. You felt like you were using her, but as you'd thought before, it was easy to justify.
>Wasn't she taking the same kind of comfort from you?
>Wasn't it supposed to be reciprocal?
>With a sinking feeling, you slowly come to the realization that your months of isolation may have skewed your... What? Sense of reality? Social consciousness? Something's wrong with you.
>"W-what do they want? What... Why are they keeping us here."
>You stiffen against her, hands clenching into fists and relaxing a few times. You don't want to tell her what they've asked of you. You don't know what they'll ask of her.
>You have a dreadful suspicion, though. You don't know if you can bring yourself to tell her that, either.
>"Anon? Oh, god, is your name even Anon? Are those your parents? Is anything they told me the truth?"
>She pushes away from you and looks up into your eyes, and you can't bring yourself to hold her gaze.
 
>Her hands detach from your back and come around to grab the front of your shirt, jerking your head up.
>"Talk to me, Anon! I need you to talk to me. We have to work together to get out of this!"
>Your eyes slowly swing over to meet her, hoping the feeble smile you're trying to give her helps calm her down.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, calm down. Um, yeah, okay. Yes. My name's Anon. Those aren't my parents. They... Got me the same way they got you. Babysitter job."
>It's only a few sentences, but it feels like you're evacuating your entire being into the vacuum of space. You haven't talked much since... Well, in a while.
>Pinkie's anxious face cracks into a relieved smile, her hands letting go of your shirt and sliding up to hold your cheeks in her palms.
>Your eyes almost roll up into the back of your head.
>"Anon..." She says. You think you might be more real to her now, a person she can connect with. "I'm Pinkie Pie. We're gonna get through this together, okay? Pinkie Promise."
>You slowly nod, not really believing it, but unwilling to break any more bad news to her.
>"Why do they keep acting like you're their son?" Pinkie asks, bringing you back into focus. She slowly slips her hands off your cheeks, slipping them around your back and pressing back into your chest.
>You're not sure if she's just a really touchy person, or if you're the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams right now.
>Probably a bit of both.
>It's honestly wonderful on your side, but it's not helping you concentrate on her questions. It's hard enough when you're convinced it won't matter one whit how much she knows in the end.
"I don't know. Ever since they but me in here... I'm their darling little boy or something. Maybe they lost a kid and cracked up over it..."
 
>You don't think so, though. No one would make someone they think of as their kid do the things they've made you do.
>"Oh... Maybe. Still, that's no excuse for... This."
>You look down at her, blinking slowly. Is she... Sympathizing with them? You strangle down a harsh laugh.
>That won't last long.
>"Okay. Okay. Essentials. Do they feed us? Clothes? Showers? B-bathroom?" She stammers a bit over the last one, clearly embarrassed, and you suddenly realize a whole other level of embarrassment eventually awaits you.
>You gesture to a small refrigerator tucked in the corner of the room, realize this is a futile gesture as she still has her face pressed into your chest, and smack your suddenly dry lips.
"Three meals and a snack in the fridge over there. They... Change and wash me at night. Gas the room after I'm asleep. Or... Ten PM, whether I'm asleep or not I guess."
>It'd been so long since you'd missed your bedtime that you'd almost forgotten it was possible.
"Bathroom's..."
>You fall silent for a bit, clenching your teeth, and eventually Pinkie lifts her head up and looks at you calmly.
>"It's okay if it's bad, Anon. We're here for each other. Just tell me." Maybe you're making too much of this.
"Bedpan under the bed. They change it at night, too."
>Pinkie's eye twitches, but she gives you a calm smile.
>"That's... That's not so bad. We can use the sheets for a little privacy and... And that'll be that."
>You grimace, turning away. Pinkie doesn't seem to like your reaction and turns your face back toward her.
>"What's that look for, Anon? Tell me. Please?" After months of having little to no control over your life, it's easy to let her roll over you. You don't have much defiance left in you, and you know it's wasted on Pinkie.
"If they let us use the sheet. Sometimes... Sometimes they don't. If they tell you to do it, j-just... Do it, okay?"
>You feel her stiffen against you and your composure almost cracks.
 
>"Do what, Anon?"
'Anything.'
>You say it in your head because you can't bear to say it out loud. You can't admit to this girl how much they've already broken you. Can't tell her that she can cry and fight and rage, but...
>Eventually it's just easier to do what they want.
>You know someone once said a person can eventually get used to anything, and for a while now you've wanted to find that guy beat his head into a bloody ruin.
"You know. Just do it. It's easier."
>Pinkie looks at you blankly for a while, before a sniffle breaks through her mask. She slowly smiles at you as tears gather in the corners of her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. It would be better maybe if she wasn't so perceptive.
>"Okay, Anon. It's not so bad. There are worse things, right?" You can't help it this time.
>A strangled bark of laughter that has nothing to do with humor bursts from your mouth.
"Yeah, you're right Pinkie. Plenty of worse things."
>You refuse to meet her eyes as your throat tightens, but you can't help letting a whimper escape as her hand brushes against your cheek, wiping the moisture away.
>"Anon... That's enough for now, okay? Let's lie down, get some rest. We need to think, right? It's not going to take long for people to miss me. They didn't move us. This house is right in Canterlot. They'll find us soon, and we have to be ready."
>You look down at Pinkie, nodding slowly. A thought occurs to you, and you hesitate to ask it. You're not sure which answer you'd prefer.
"Did you hear about me? Like, in the news? Crystal Prep Academy student goes missing, like three months ago I think?"
>Pinkie frowned, tapping her lip for a few seconds. Her finger suddenly stopped, and she looked up at you, stricken.
>"I... I did, Anon. I remember the story in the news. They found your car burned out on the outskirts of town, but no body. There was a, a manhunt thingy. It got called off eventually."
 
>She's not telling you something. This girl doesn't have much of a poker face.
"What else, Pinkie? Just, tell me, okay?"
>She grimaces, slowly nodding at you.
>"You haven't been here for three months, Anon. When... What was the date that they took you?"
>You blink, looking down at her. What's she getting at? Not like you'd forget, anyway.
"October 4th. Why, what's the date? I guess I wouldn't be surprised if I lost track at some point."
>Pinkie fidgets against you for a second before looking back at you mournfully.
>"It's December 7th." You blink. You're surprised it's been less time than you thought. It really felt like fore-
>"2017."
'Huh.'
>You look down at her, hoping she's kidding.
'Why would she kid about something like this, you idiot?'
>She's looking up at you carefully, crestfallen and obviously trying to guage your reaction.
"Thirteen months. Huh. I guess... I guess it's true what they say, huh? Do the same thing every day and it all just starts to blur together. Huh."
>You're very careful. You don't want to scare this girl. You don't want to push her to the side and batter yourself bloody against the plexiglass wall until they shock you into unconsciousness or gas both of you.
>Again.
>Well, maybe you do.
>But you don't know what they'll do to Pinkie if you do.
>You can imagine waking up tomorrow morning, or whatever time they actually wake you up, to a small plate of teeth in the refrigerator in the corner instead of your daily meals.
>Or a few toes.
>Your tongue absently pokes at the hole in your gums where two of your molars are supposed to be.
>"Anon, I'm so sorry. But it's gonna be different now. My friends will find us. They can do anything."
>You can hear the faith in her voice. She really believes that. Would it be okay?
>Could you borrow a bit of that faith from her?
 
>You're not sure about anything right now.
"Maybe you're right, Pinkie. Maybe this'll all be over tomorrow. S.W.A.T. through the door, those fuckers in a growing pool of blood on the floor, us wrapped in blankets with hot cocoa until our families come along and take us home."
>You've had fantasies like this all the time.
>Had them.
>Until the day your captors staged a police raid, filling the house outside your room with gunfire, or seeming to anyway before bursting in the door in S.W.A.T. gear.
>You'd cried in relief, bawling as you begged the two officers to find some way to get you out of that room.
>They'd pretended to set charges against the plexiglass, told you to flip the bed frame and hide behind it for cover in their muffled voices, then counted down from ten.
>It'd taken you more than a full minute to peek out from over the bed frame to see them standing there, masks off and delighted smiles on their faces before the man scowled and told you that playtime was over, and to clean up your room.
>The fit you'd thrown, tearing everything you could manage into splinters despite the almost constant shocks had cost you your first tooth.
>You honestly weren't sure if it was worse waking up without it than it would have been if they'd strapped you down and torn it out of your head.
>The knowledge that they could do anything they wanted to you, and were CAREFUL about it, tore at you every second you breathed.
>You'd long stopped wondering what they did to you while you were unconscious after the lights went out.
>And now...
>Now they had something else to use against you.
>A sick and twisted part of you thought about it for a fleeting moment.
>The part that'd been locked up in here too long, and would do anything to get back at your tormentors.
>It wouldn't even take five seconds, and they'd have one less thing to use against you.
>It'd feel so good to beat them for once.
 
>You could steal all their fun.
>...
>...
>After a few seconds of thought, having not acted on the impulse, you sigh and pushed Pinkie gently away, getting up off the bed as she followed you with her confused gaze.
"Let's eat, if there's anything. They don't like it when I... Um, we waste food. Then we can rest for a while, okay?"
>Pinkie nods slowly, shifting on the bed to push her back up against the wall, her arms wrapped around herself as she stares at her lap.
>You can see the faint shudders coursing through her. Maybe that thing they stuck in your backs is still hurting her. Or maybe she's just coming to grips with the horrible reality of the situation you're both in.
>The news that you've been here so long must be as shocking to her as it was devastating to you.
>Nothing rocks your confidence like finding out you're in the hands of COMPETENT abductors.
>Or so you would assume, anyway.
>Opening the door on the small refrigerator, you see two plates wrapped in cellophane on the dinner shelf, one green and one pink.
>The illusion of care sickens you almost enough to put off your appetite, but you know not eating isn't an option. You don't even pay enough attention to notice what kind of food it is.
>As you lift up the green plate, you see an envelope was hidden under it.
>Change isn't good. Nothing new is ever good. They haven't done this before.
>You stuff the envelope in your back pocket, hoping Pinkie was too distracted by her thoughts to notice it.
>A swift glance in her direction places her exactly as you remembered her, staring down at her lap.
>Hopefully you'll have a chance to look at it without her noticing.
 
>It might be nothing, but knowing your captors, it's probably not something you want Pinkie to see.
>Yet, anyway.
>If they want her to see it, you won't have any choice in the matter, anyway.
>You walk back over to the bed, scooching back to mimic Pinkie's position and holding the pink plate out to her.
>She ignores it, obviously deep in thought.
"Pinkie, here's some food. Eat it, okay? Please?"
>You quaver slightly inside, sickened by the fact that you're enforcing your captors' will.
>You know it's to save Pinkie pain and degradation, but it still leaves a hollow pit in your stomach. You glance over the plate.
"It's, some kind of meatloaf? Some asparagus and a cookie, too. It's probably good. It usually is."
>You say this last bitterly. Another layer on the illusion of their psychotic version of care-giving.
>Pinkie looks up slowly, then her eyes lock on the silverware on the plate. You can practically see the thoughts running through her head as she stares at them almost uncomprehendingly.
>A steak knife and fork. Nothing unusual. Except maybe in their current situation.
>The serrated edge of the knife seems to gleam in Pinkie's eyes as she stares at it.
"Hide it, if you want. They won't do anything to you for that. It won't be there in the morning, though."
>She turns to you with a stricken expression and you sigh, looking down. You push the sleeve of the sweater you're wearing and hold out your wrist for her to see.
>She gasps as she takes in the mess of jagged scars there, and you can feel her eyes on you, but you can't bring yourself to meet them.
"Don't do it. It never works. I think they must be doctors. Considering the shit they put in our backs, the knockout gas, this."
>You push your sleeve back down, unwrapping your meal and slowly eating. A broken sob pulls you out of your own little world, and you look up to see Pinkie, tears streaming down her face.
 
"It's okay Pinkie."
>You try to comfort her, patting her shoulder awkwardly after setting aside your food, but her wails just intensify.
>You look on, not knowing what to do as she curls up into herself before your eyes.
>That terrible dead knot in the center of your being offhandedly notes that the reality of the situation must have finally sunken in.
>And you had a hand in it.
>Your hands clench into fists as you realize you're playing just how they want you to. A little pawn in their game, breaking down their new piece so they can pick up the parts and mold them into what they want.
>The worst part is, you don't know what else to do. Everything you're doing... You're just trying to save Pinkie some pain. Steer her away from the mistakes you've already made.
>You know the consequences already.
>Picking the plate up off Pinkie's lap, you set it beside yours and slowly, gently pull her against you.
>With a fresh bout of sobs, Pinkie crushes herself against you, fingers scrabbling against your back as she vents all her fear and pain into you.
>Because you're her rock.
>Just like you were meant to be.
>And it's going to destroy her when they use her pain to make you betray her.
>You're not softhearted enough to think this is going to go any other way. They'll make you take something fundamental from her in their stead, because if you don't they'll do it anyway, only infinitely worse.
>Your heart lurches again as you contemplate what it's most likely going to be, and you almost lose the scant dinner you've eaten down Pinkie's back.
>That would be wasting food, though.
>You don't want to do that.
"I'm so sorry, Pinkie. I wish I could snap my fingers and make this all a dream. I wish I could send you away from all this."
>You really do, too. You'd do anything to get her out of this, even if it's playing right into the palm of their hands.
 
>You were always a protector of a sort, so the role's easy to slip into. Keeping your friends in line, protecting your quarterback, DD on nights out.
>I mean, you might have drank a LITTLE.
>You weren't a saint.
>Holding Pinkie lightly against you as she rails against her situation and probably the universe in general, you come to a decision.
>You won't do it.
>No matter how much they hurt you both, you won't do it.
>You can do that much. Set a line you won't cross. It'll work out this time. You grimace.
>You've promised yourself things like this before. It'll work out this time, though.
>It's not just a promise to yourself this time. It's a promise to Pinkie, too.
>And those bastards behind the glass...
 
>Eventually you calm Pinkie down enough to eat her food, sickening though it is how insistent you have to be.
>She curls up on her side as you take your plates back the the refrigerator and set them on top of it, her soft snuffles squeezing your heart in an icy grasp with every step.
>You note with a sigh and a slight shake of your head that one of the knives isn't among the dishes.
>Your stomach grumbles insistently and you grimace. Two doses of gas in a day always mess with you.
>Turning back to the bed, your sour stomach gets worse as you bend down to fetch the bedpan.
>Just like with the plates, there are two, now. One a dull green and the other a shiny pink.
>God.
>You grab the roll of toilet paper next to it, then the blanket off the bed.
"Pinkie, I've gotta... I gotta go. Give me some privacy, please."
>Her only response is to roll over to face the wall.
>One more indignity.
>You walk over to the other side of the room, squatting down after you drape the blanket carefully over yourself.
>Before you do your business, you quietly pull the letter out of your back pocket.
 
>Slowly opening it and hoping Pinkie would mistake the sounds for things she probably really didn't want to hear, you pull out a card with a smiling family gracing the cover.
>Grimacing, you open it.
>Your bile rises again as you read the contents and look at the 'gift' taped to the inside.
'Be safe, Slugger.'
>Three little words.
>That's all it takes to confirm your fears, along with the little wrappers that make such a satisfying sound as you crush the lot in your fist.
>You toss the disgusting mess into the bedpan, right where it belongs, and one act of defiance later you clean yourself up.
>Pulling your pants up, you push the bedpan into the corner as far from the bed as you can get it, strangely satisfied when you notice the edge of the card poking up out of the filth.
>You'll probably pay for this later.
>You hope you'll pay for it, pushing aside the creeping feeling that you might have made trouble for Pinkie.
>They'll go easy on her for a while, or at least you hope so.
>See how far your influence can get her before they move on to their tried and true methods.
>It's all a part of the game for them, right?
>They'll want to see how well their toy works.
>Man is always inventing means to make their own life easier, and you're sure you're nothing more than that to them, no matter what their honeyed words will say.
>You move slowly back over to the bed and look down at Pinkie. She's curled up in the same position, her hair obscuring most of her face from you, but you can still make out the clenched jaw and tight lips.
"Pinkie, um... How are you doing? I know that's a stupid question. I'm sorry."
>She slowly turns to you, her eyes red and puffy from too many tears.