*Bvrrrt…bvrrrt…bvrrrt…bvrrrt…*
>”Hey…it’s me again…just hoping you’ll pick up your phone…and call me back…and I hope we can talk this through…”
>…
---
>Eight hours later.
>You bring the bottle to your lips.
>It’s empty.
>You are currently lying face down, drunk, on a cold sidewalk.
>You roll over as the bottle slips out of your hand.
>Bringing the hand to your face, your vision blurs.
>You cough as you roll over again.
>This time your body slides down into the gutter.
>At least it isn’t wet.
>You can’t bring yourself to stand.
>An overwhelming desire to sleep hits you.
>You fall asleep in a street gutter.
>You are Anonymous.
>This is your life now.
>It beats being dead…
>Maybe…
>The scariest thing to you is that you aren’t quite sure if it does.
 
Bleeding Out
 
>Six hours later.
>You feel the heat of the sun beating down on the back of your neck.
>You try to pull yourself up, but you’re greeted with an intense pain in the back of your eyes.
>You fall back down and bump your forehead against the hard ground.
>A lance of pain spears your skull and you let out a silent scream.
>A few minutes pass before you manage to partially right yourself.
>The pain in your head hasn’t diminished, you must be hungover.
>You manage to sit on the curb.
>One eye slightly open, you look down at yourself.
>Baggy grey shirt, covered in filth, and a pair of torn, faded jeans, also stained with dirt and other grime.
>You don’t have any shoes on.
>Looking around you spy an empty bottle laying quietly in the gutter.
>You check your pockets.
>Nothing.
>Fuck…
>You stand and another spike of pain courses through your body and implants itself in your head.
>You wince and begin the long walk back to your dorm.
>You think back to the events of the previous night.
>Things were kind of blurry.
>You hear the train’s whistle in the distance.
>Stopping in your tracks, you remember.
 
 
---
>You could hear it now.
>Its rumble growing louder with every passing second.
>You take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
>You turn the volume up car’s speakers.
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJEoxeW7JvQ
>Grabbing the bottle of gun on the seat next to you, you pull off the cap.
>Pressing it to your lips you hear the whistle of the train scream out.
>Its headlights shimmer across the car’s interior.
>You take a swig and lower the bottle, resting your head against the back of the seat.
>The music fills your ears and you close your eyes.
>…
>You almost don’t hear the passenger door open.
>Your eyes flick open and you turn to see a beautiful grey-skinned women of about-your-age.
>Her long black hair frames her face and trails down to her lap.
>You mouth: Wha-
>Her slender hand raises itself to the knob that controls the volume.
>It delicately twists the music to a much more reasonable listening level.
>Gently retracting her hand, she turns her head to face you.
>The train’s whistle sounds.
>It’s close now, not much longer.
>You stare into her deep purple eyes.
 
“H-hello?”
 
>She turns her head forward.
>A lock of her hair swings around at the motion.
>Light from the train shines through the stray lock of hair.
>Your mind goes numb for a moment as you stare at the girl next to you.
>Suddenly your heart rate spikes.
>Your hands are shaking, but you manage to twist the key in the ignition.
>The engine roars to life.
>Your eyes never leave the girl.
>A brief smile flits across her face.
>Slamming the car into drive, you turn your head forward and press your foot to the gas.
>The car lurches forward, clambering over the tracks.
>You drive just beyond the warning bar and stop.
>Slowly shifting the car to park and stopping the engine, you hear the train thunder across the tracks where you were parked just moments before.
>You turn back to the girl to find her already staring at you.
>Silence fills the car.
 
>Not an awkward silence, nor a dreadful one, but a silence that fills the gap of two people introducing themselves, a proper sort of silence.
>She leans over you, a stern look having pervaded her face.
>Her aroma washes over you as her hand gracefully slides the key out of the ignition.
>She smells of lilac.
>You watch as she takes the keys and brings her hand back to her lap.
>You finally manage to speak up.
 
“W-what?”
>”What, indeed.”
 
>…
 
>”Shall we be off then?”
“Y-you have the keys.”
>”Well, you did just try to do something awful.”
 
>You look at her.
>She smiles a kind, comforting smile at you.
>Her eyes are filled with warmth.
>You unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the car, gin in hand.
>As you walk around the car, her door opens as well.
>She elegantly strides past you, filling your nostrils with her scent.
>You stumble to the passenger side and get in.
>She’s already in the driver’s seat, door closed, seat belt fastened.
>Closing your door and buckling your belt, you turn to watch as she starts the car.
 
>”So, where shall I drop you off?”
 
>You think for a moment.
>Bvrrrt…bvrrrt…bvrrrt…
>The reason for your attempted suicide rushes back to your mind.
>Raising the bottle of gin, you look down at it and tell her.
 
“Macintosh’s Bar at the corner of Fifth and Mane.”
 
>She sighs and shifts the car into drive.
---
>That’s where your wallet and phone went too.
>Your phone was plugged into the car’s jack and you gave her your wallet with your ID in it so she could return your car.
>Big Mac probably just added last night to your tab.
>Your head throbs.
>Knowing a bar’s owned helped when you didn’t have your ID.
>You didn’t even get her name.
>Hell, she probably just stole your car and wallet.
>Damn it.
>You shouldn’t have driven off the tracks.
>You should have just let that train kill you and-
>You almost immediately regret thinking that thought.
>Your head starts throbbing again.
>You slowly march home.
 
>Your car is sitting in the parking lot of your dorm.
>Peering in the window you spy your wallet, sitting on the seat, and your phone, still plugged into the center console.
>You try the door.
>Locked.
>Well then.
>The keys don’t appear to be inside the car.
>You walk around it and step up the staircase to your building.
>You live in a large two-story dorm on the old side of Canterlot University.
>A fresh coat of paint on the outside hides the true age of the building, but the low ceilings and small doors of the interior reveal the truth.
>Pushing open the door you step into a tight carpeted hallway lined with doors.
>You drag yourself through the musty corridor.
>As you approach your room, the door across from it opens and out steps Flash Sentry.
 
>”Hey, bro.”
 
>You nod at him and grab the handle of your door.
>It’s locked.
 
>” Having trouble?”
“Door’s locked.”
>”Yeah, I hear ya, bro. Hey, listen, I got the key, man.”
 
>You sigh.
 
“Why do you have my key?”
>”Some wicked hot grey-skinned beauty with a smoking body swung by and dropped it off. I turned on the old Flash Sentry charm, but she didn’t take the bait, fucking dyke.”
 
>You stare at him.
>The more he talks the stronger the pain in your head grows.
>You hold out your hand and he ducks back into his room.
>A few moments later he returns and hands you the keys.
 
“Thanks.”
>”Yeah, no prob, bro.”
 
>He closes the door.
>Fucking cunt.
>Your head throbs in pain.
>Looking down at the key ring in your hand you realize that you now have access to your car.
>Another jolt of pain rushes through your head.
>…
>I’ll deal with it later.
 
>The next day…
>You stare at the note she left in your car.
>It reads: “Don’t give up. We will meet again soon.”
>An expertly drawn treble clef followed.
>You don’t even know her name.
>She trusts you not to kill yourself though.
>You aren’t sure if that’s stupid or kind of her.
 
>Twisting the key in the ignition and pocketing the note, you turn in time to see a familiar motorcycle pulling into the lot.
>A wave of horror and dread spreads through your body.
>Rainbow Dash.
>You see the dark plate of her helmet turn towards you.
>Slamming the car into reverse, you back up quickly.
>She speeds up and pulls right next to you.
>Her gloved hand knocks on the window.
>Turning swiftly, you shift into drive and pound the pedal.
>The car takes off through the parking lot.
>Dash’s motorcycle screeches after you.
>You make a sharp turn out into the street.
>She matches.
>You accelerate down the empty road, swerving occasionally, but nothing shakes her.
>You spy an intersection with a busy one-way road ahead.
>Your mind goes numb as you consider your next move.
>It’s a small college town so there aren’t that many cops.
>You’re a good driver.
>Right?
>Is it worth it?
>You turn your head and see the ends of her rainbow-colored hair flapping in the wind.
>…
>FUCK.
>No, you weren’t going to be caught by her.
>You power through the red light and drift right into the oncoming traffic.
>You push down on the gas, accelerating.
>Swerving around the first few cars you check your mirror to see that she is no longer following you.
>Turning your full attention back to game of life and death in front of you, you fully realize what you’re doing.
>It feels exhilarating.
>Like you are more alive now than you ever have been before.
>For a moment you forget everything, except the adrenaline rushing through you.
>You are violently returned to reality.
>There is only one way to avoid it.
>First, you are not an expert evasive driver, so you have no idea what you’re even doing.
>Second, you were not paying enough attention and now that your eyes are back on the road it’s too late to successfully avoid the truck barreling towards you.
>Only one option.
>You slam the wheel left hard.
>*Screeeeeeech*
>BLAM