Looped

13.

Chapter 13

⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Sitting on the train to Manehattan alone was one of the most stressful things I've had to do. I was afraid one little thing would result in my death, and I'd have to redo the whole day.

Repeating the whole day wasn't the whole issue - it was the effects after every death. I looked up, gazing up into the red skies.

Rarity was right. The closer we traveled to a certain direction, the more 'normal' the skies looked. While I headed to Manehattan, the skies changed colors from the terrifying red it was that morning, to a lighter tone - so that only meant one thing.

Fidgeting, I looked around at the people around me. I silently cursed at myself for not bringing my phone or some earbuds. I desperately needed something to distract myself with. The train was loud, every single turn it'd make would make my ears ring.

Not to mention the people around me. I was startled by every sudden jerk a person would make.

I took a deep breath, directing my stare to the world outside. If I just focused on the trees, maybe I wouldn't feel so anxious.

I attempted to fill my brain with memories of Rarity and me. There was a particular one that had been lingering in my mind ever since I stepped onto this train.

✧

The walk to his house was also one of the most stressful things I had to do. I had memorized the route to get there from the last trip I took, so at least I had that.

Inside the train, people didn't move. They stood still, either falling into a slumber, talking amongst themselves, or just staring outside. The people there weren't that likely to be the cause of my death.

The streets, on the other hand, were much more dangerous. It felt like every single noise I heard, from the chitter-chatter to every single honk of a horn, was in full volume. With my hands buried in the pockets of my hoodie, I ran, very alert of my surroundings.

Everyone was fast in Manehattan, they were all posher, more sophisticated. More - selfish? Chances were, if one of them ran me over, I wouldn't get as much attention as I would back in Canerlot.

While I was looking for anything that could potentially harm me, one thing did catch my eye.

The girl that I had paid so much attention to, spray painting the wall — wasn't there. Connecting the dots, I concluded that the girl spray painting was Shy. After seeing Pinkie er — Mena, at that shop, it seemed too weird for it to be a coincidence that some random girl was spray painting a similar message. Rarity had never gotten the chance to show me a picture of Shy, so I could only assume.

It was only a small amount of time before I found myself at my dad's house yet again. Just from staring at his house, I got the same freakish vibes from before.

Shivers traveled down my spine as I thought back to the traumatic events that took place then. How I walked over to that table, grabbing the gun. It was aimed at my dad first, and when he mentioned that the voices only left Mom when she died - I killed myself.

I. Killed. Myself. Those three words were embedded in my mind.

Sighing, I took a few steps forward, walking up those stairs. I kept my hands in my pocket, listening to every single creak I caused as I placed my weight on it. It still looked like my dad hadn't spent any time fixing anything.

How exactly did he survive on a farm?

Remembering that he didn't respond the last time I knocked on the door, I extended my hand to ring the doorbell. I had forgotten about the ugly noise the bell made, I bit my lip, cringing.