You sit, twiddling your thumbs on the little bench while trying to ignore the smell of antiseptic that fills the air. Hospitals were some of your least favorite places to be. And you weren't even here for yourself this time.

"Anonymous? Are you okay?" a mare asks, your boss.

"Ms. Index, what are you doing here?"

"It's protocol for me to be informed of... events, such as these, but when I heard it was my newest inspector who found Ms. Floor Bored, I thought I should come myself and see how he was doing."

You smile slightly. "Thanks."

She returns the small smile, before sobering. "How is she?"

Your own smile falls. "They're checking her over right now, but she's awake."

"Good, that's good." She sighs and plops down besides you. "... I'm sorry this had to happen to you on your first week. It's always a possibility with these ponies, but there's never any real way of preparing to see it."

"... Why'd she do it?"

"You'd have to ask her that, but there are... common threads they tend to follow. It's hard, I can only imagine how much so, to not have a cutie mark. To feel you have no purpose in a world where everypony else does." You swallow hard at that, eyes boring into the linoleum while she continues. "Most try to find their distractions to get them through the day, but sometimes, well..."

"Yeah, well..."

"... Are you alright, Anon?"

"Yeah, yes, of course, I'm not the one who, you know..." You gesture out in front of you, hoping to get your point across without having to say it. You're relieved when a doctor ambles into view.

"You're Anonymous, correct? The one who brought Ms. Floor Bored in?"

"Yes. Is she okay?"

"She'll live," he answers slowly.

"But she'll need to be supervised over the coming months," Ms. Index finished. "Where there is one attempt, there is sure to be another."

You straighten. "Who? Who will do it? Does she have any family?"

The doctor looks down to his clipboard. "The only name listed in emergency contacts is the grandmother's and she's living in a nursing home, so I doubt she'll be able to do it. Perhaps if somepony else from the family-"

"No, I know from her records, she doesn't have anypony else like that available," Ms. Index cuts in. "It'll have to be somepony outside of her family. A friend, perhaps..."

You can hear the doubt in the middle-aged mare's voice, and you understand why. Most NEETs didn't exactly have booming social lives, and Floor Bored's probably wasn't an exception. After all, had she been, maybe somepony could have helped her before things came to this.

"Is she awake?" you ask the doctor. "Can she have visitors?"

"Well, yes, I suppose, though she seemed quite impatient to be alone when I was with her."

"Even more reason to go see her then. Which room is she in?"

Be Floor Bored, the living embodiment of failure. The fact that you were still living was testament to that. You couldn't even end it right. And that colt...

Just thinking about him has you sinking under the covers, sorely missing your sweater to hide within. He was probably traumatized... Or more likely angry.

He probably wouldn't have done anything if it wasn't his job, because he'd have gotten in trouble otherwise. Why else would anypony save you? Like all those internet ponies always say, you should go kill yourself. If only you weren't a loser who couldn't do anything right.

You're startled out of your downward spiral by the door creaking open, and a head poking in, smallish eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. Oh Celestia, it was the hoo-man. Probably here to yell at you. Why oh why were you such a failure?

"Uh, hi, don't know if you remember me from earlier today... at your apartment, but I just wanted to check in on you. You know, see how you were doing," he says. You hear the words, but your brain is having trouble processing it all. Maybe you're brain damaged now too?

"Yeeeah... so, you're doing well?" Ah geez, he's talking again. How long have you been staring? Long enough to look creepy, judging by that expression.

Come on, Floor! Say something, you idiot! "Uh-huh."

Nailed it. Your hoof, that is. Took a swing, missed, and mashed your hoof.

"Good, good. That's... good," he trails off, stepping the rest of the way into the room and looking around. Probably trying to look anywhere but your ugly face. "Nice room. Very... white."

"Uh-huh"

"You like white? Your furs kinda white. Like, an eggshell white, maybe."

"Uh-huh."

"Yep." He has slowly moved to the side of your bed during the painful conversation, and you've turned your neck to follow him. Your neck is super sore, but you can't really manage a grimace while your face is stuck in perma-stun. You see the things on the edge of his forelegs, his... wigglers, flex and unlfex a few times before slowly moving towards your withers. You can only follow it with yours eyes until it connects, giving a light squeeze and making your skin twitch from the contact.

It doesn't hurt like you thought it would. It doesn't feel like he's trying to hurt you at all. It actually feels kinda warm.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing better, Floor. You had me really worried."

Worried? For you?

This colt really must be from another planet, to feel anything other than contempt for such a loser mare. But maybe, if you don't mess up anymore around him, he won't find out, and you can have a... something other than pony who hates you. It could be kind of like having a second GramGram.

"Uh-huh" Dang it. Oh Sun, he's laughing. Game over, mare. Game over!

"Okay then, I'll leave you to your rest," he says after a brief chuckle. "It was good seeing you again, Floor, and conscious this time, Maybe next time we can get to know each other a little better."

Next time? He still wants to see you again? As he leaves, you hold a hoof up.

"Bye... Anonymous."

You are Anonymous, and more determined then you've ever been.

When you saw Floor Bored awake and alive, you felt something. Something akin to pride, perhaps. She is alive because of you. You saved her. But it is a job half finished. You saved her this time, but she is still in danger, and it is your responsibility watch over her. You accepted that responsibility when you pulled that noose from around her neck.

"How was she, Anonymous?" Ms. Index steps away from the doctor to face you when you approach.

"Still pretty shaken up," You answer, running a hand through your hair. "I think she's shocked to still be here."

"I imagine so," commented the doctor. "Had you arrived even a few minutes later, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Ms. Index adds, "Yes, we're still discussing how best to keep watch over her when she leaves the hospital. Without family or friends, we'll have to hire a nurse-"

"No, she's nervous enough around strangers, and she's probably been forced to meet more today then she's comfortable with," you interrupt. "If somebody is going to take her home, it should at least be a face she's familiar with, even if it's one she's only seen today."

Ms. Index tilts her head curiously. "Are you trying to suggest yourself, Anonymous?"

You smile. "Yes, I am. I've already involved myself, so I should at least see things through to the end." Hopefully a happy one, you don't say.

Mouth tightening into a thin line, Ms. Index gives you a long look. "You understand what you're volunteering for, yes? The responsibility?"

You return her look with one just as focused. "Yes."

"You'll have to be with her twenty-four seven; meaning she'll have to move in with you or vice versa."

"I kind of figured that. She'll probably be more comfortable at her place since it's familiar."

"This won't be easy. It's more than just watching her to prevent another attempt, you have to try and help her so that she doesn't want to try again. You aren't trying to fix her either. She may never be what ponies consider 'normal'. Maybe she will be one day, but it's not something you are to force."

"Hey we are what we are. All we can hope for is to be better, but nobodies perfect." You say in way of answer. "No one is expected to be, right?"

Finally, her lips turn the slightest bit upwards. "Well then, I'll see about the paperwork. No promises, these situations are always delicate ones, but I'll have an answer for you before Ms. Floor Bored is discharged."

You smile back. "I'll have my toothbrush ready."

Author's Notes:

Artist is Neet Guy.