You sit on your couch at home, staring into your hands. Holy shit, man. You have hands. Like, that's fuckin... weird. dude.

I mean, have you ever really looked at hands? Have you tried wiggling your fingers just to watch the way your bones adjust under the skin? It's fucking weird. Creepy even. If we saw random-ass bones begin moving under a weird piece of flesh, we'd nope the fuck right out. But hands are okay. They get a pass.

On top of that. Horses LIKE these things. I mean, you get to scratch them behind the ears, pet them just right. All sortsa shit.

You sit, staring at your hands in a sort of wonder.

"I must really be getting bored. I just fucking thought intensely about hands," you say to yourself.

Then, there's a knock on your door, and you groan to yourself. On second thought, let's do a whole mess of thinking about our hands. Anything if it gets us away from another fetish guess.

Fluttershy is getting on your fucking nerves now. Do you have any idea how long you've put up with her shit at this point? If it was put into a book, it would be almost 50 thousand words, or something.

But, you know that she won't go away unless you answer the door. Otherwise, she'll assume you're outside and break in to smell your boxers.

"Fuckin hell," you mutter to yourself.

Rising from your seat, you move to the door. Turning the knob, the door swings open and the yellow little pegasus stands outside as happy as can be.

"Hi, Anon!" she says happily. "How are you today?"

"Fine, I guess," you answer in a resigned tone.

"Can I come in? I brought tea and cookies. They aren't even drugged this time! Honest!"

Looking to Fluttershy, you notice she's carrying a bag with a small thermos and some wrapped napkins that look similar to cookies. You place a hand on your forehead, realizing you'd garner a worse reputation than you already have if you refuse a guest bringing gifts.

"Yeah, sure."

Fluttershy trots inside, humming to herself all the while. You move to a kitchen cupboard to grab a few glasses for the tea. Turning around, you watch as Fluttershy steps on your rug towards the couch. Except the rug slips under her hooves.

She turns, losing her balance, turning to see you. Her ice blue eyes are filled with panic. She falls slowly. You step forward. Her temple meets the corner of an end table. Two gasps of air. She falls limply to the ground. Tea begins to leak from her saddlebag. You rush forward, stepping on cookies that bury themselves deep into your hardwood floor.

You pick her up into your arms and kick the door to your home open, darting for the hospital.

You sit in a hospital room, staring into your hands. You place them over your eyes, listening to the gentle beep of the heart monitor. The muscles in your arm ache. The lids of your eyes feel like sandbags, begging you to get some rest. But it's 4AM, and she hasn't woken up.

The first 24 hours are the most important. That's when you know if, well. They'll come out of it. Or not.

You take a deep breath and lean back, staring at the sterile white ceiling. The rest of her friends left at around midnight, and said they would be back in the morning. They all told you not to blame yourself, but you can't help but feel like... somehow, this was all your fault. You could have prevented this. Hell, at some points, you wanted this.

But... not like this.

This... wasn't what you wanted.

You rise to your feet and move to her bedside again. A bandage is wrapped around her head, sticking to her gorgeous pink hair. Her eyes are closed and she just seems... peaceful now. Like a sleeping angel.

Placing a hand on her hoof, you open your mouth, unsure that you can say a single thing you haven't already sworn in your head. That you haven't already whispered to her. That would make any sort of difference at all.

You can't help but listen to the voice in the back of your head.

You killed her. You're the cause of all of this. It's all your fault.

With one motion, you move to your knees, unsure of what to do, and clasp your hands together. You're in a different world, and you've never believed before... but at this point, what could be the hurt in trying.

"If anyone is out there," you whisper to yourself. "God, Allah, Spaghetti Monster, anyone. Please... I'll do anything. Just fix this."

You close your eyes, your ears at full attention.

But nobody came. Nobody spoke. There was no sign.

You open your eyes and look to Fluttershy.

"Well girl, I tried," you say. "I'm... so sorry."

Then, a quick breath of air. You freeze in place, staring down at Fluttershy. Her features contort, and then relax. Her body shivers, then her eyes ease open.

She looks up to you, a fire pain in her eyes, overwhelmed by a flood of joy upon seeing your face.

"Anon?" she says weakly.

"Yeah, I'm here," you say, kneeling back down to get on eye level with here.

"What happened?"

You bite your lip, pondering how to answer her question.

"There was an accident. However, you're okay now. Everything is going to be okay."

She smiles gently. That simple smile she gives you whenever you actually like a gift she's given you. She's happy just knowing she's made a difference in your life. No. Even a difference in your day.

"Then... can I ask you something?" she says.

"Of course, Fluttershy," you say. "Anything."

"Are abrupt changes in tone your fetish?" she asks.

You pause, staring at her. A smile creeps on your face. Standing up, you look down at her. Fluttershy's proud expression fades away, turning to fear.

"A-anon?"

"I really hate you sometimes, you know that?" you say.

Fluttershy gulps as you stare her down, your hands balled into fists.

"N-no?" Fluttershy replies.

You growl under your breath, but then, pause.

"I suppose it can't be helped," you say to yourself unclenching your fists. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Mhm!"

"Sounds good, see ya, Fluttershy," you say, walking out of the hospital room.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to the closest nurse and ask if they have any sort of tranquilizers that could put you out before you kill someone.