Panic creeps in me.

My turn is almost up. Soon I'll have to face them. All those eyes staring right at me.

If only this was a mere talent show. I wish that the only thing I’ll have to focus on is playing my violin but there is so much more context to this show. Tonight I'll have to face them again after months of avoiding the spotlight. I withdrew from school for months, instead staying home to be homeschooled. There were also therapy counseling sessions and . . .

. . . the confession.

I breathe hard as I lean over on a wooden stool which is holding up a glass of water, my inhaler, and me. For a moment my eyes close as I struggle with myself, trying to calm the heck down. When I open my eyes, my vision focuses on my inhaler. I suddenly realize how much I need it now. The tightness in my chest and lungs . . . I can't breathe! I need air and I need it now!

I quickly snatch up the inhaler, stand up straight, lean my head back just a bit, raise the device up to my lips then press it down. I feel the jet of a mixture of carbon dioxide and oxygen force open my lungs then gradually expand down my chest. I hold my breath for a few seconds before letting it out.

That helps, but I know this is just a temporary patch. I know the real reason for my body’s treacherous reaction is due to my emotions, and there are plenty of reasons for that!

I turn my head to look at the black curtain to the right of me.

The black curtain . . . just a thin piece of cloth that symbolically separates me from the doom that is sure to face me on the other side.

I have to do this, though. I have to face them again. I have to be brave. I owe it to so many people whom I ruined the lives of. There is a lot of healing necessary to recover from a tragic history like this, and I have got to face the music . . . literally . . . in order to move on.

In order for them to move on too.

Such as it is.

I hear the applause of the crowd as they congratulate the one who just performed before me. Based on what I can tell, their enthusiasm sounds like it is a six point five out of ten but, in truth, it is probably more like a five point four out of ten.

In short, the crowd is humoring the performer.

Fake enthusiasm can be hard to present, too. I should know, but genuine enthusiasm has to be earned. True applause has to come from the heart. Nobody can force that reaction. With skill, patience, and practice it can be encouraged, but never forced.

I used to believe that it could be forced. I used to believe that I could do anything, that I was smart enough to conquer the whole damn planet if I wanted to, and why not? I had more than enough evidence that such things were possible if I really set my mind to them, but therein lies the rub. If the power I attain in leading one school could drive me this insane, I can only imagine how much more ill-prepared I'd be with all the weight of the world on my shoulders, especially if I’d actually care for the welfare of those I lead.

Doing the right thing is often very hard. Anybody else that says otherwise is a goddamn liar!

As I hear the applause of the audience, albeit the somewhat empty kind, I feel my panic start to creep back.

It's just like that time I rode on a roller coaster for the first time. As the thing climbed to its peak, I was distinctly aware of the “click-click-click” sound under me. Every single click sound pounded the message in my head that I'm about to be doomed.

This is crazy. This is crazy! I'm trapped! I can't get out of this harness! LET ME OUT OF THIS CRAZY THING!

I break from my train of thoughts as a blue-skinned kid before me returns behind the stage. He wears baggy clothing and has a slouched cap. The freestyle rap he performed a moment ago was horrendous, but he struts proudly to the back of the stage as if he owns the whole building. He acts like his performance is the best thing in the world. He's so full of himself that he doesn't even realize how stupid and deluded he is.

All of this reminds me of yet another Great and Powerful performer I know, and she happens to have blue skin too.

Of course, I'm one to talk. A few months ago, I was just like him.

I lean a hand on the tall wooden stool to help support me because I am starting to feel dizzy again. My breathing increases. My heart pounds in my chest. I can feel pressure building in my skull. I quickly glance at my watch which also serves as a heart monitor. What I see is not good. I only hope I have enough insulin in my system to keep me going throughout the performance.

Then I hear it.

The moment I dread.

Someone calls my name which heralds my arrival to the center stage. I listen carefully to the audience's reaction. Because of that, I notice how the audience quickly silences. In fact, it is almost sudden the way the room grew quiet.

Too quiet.

They know what is coming. They know who I used to be, and they are probably not too pleased to hear the news of my impending arrival to the stage. In fact, they are probably stunned. They must be thinking that I have a lot of audacity to show my face in public ever again.

I close my eyes. My face scrunches into a tight grimace. My hands clench tightly. One of my handsstrangles the violin and the other does the same to the bow. I fear I am squeezing it so tight that I might snap it in half. As it is, I can feel the sweat on my palms contaminate my precious instrument.

Thinking of that, I recall how my mom gave this to me out of love. When that thought enters my head, I can not help but pull the violin and bow close to my breast and squeeze it lovingly.

I somewhat absently hear the other performers behind me bid me to break a leg. I glance back at them and nod slightly in appreciation, all the while hoping they do not notice how utterly morbid I truly feel.

I look back at the black curtain in front of me. The curtain of death.

I take a deep breath, hold it, then release it.

Well . . . I guess it's finally time to face the music.

* * *

The room is so silent, one can easily hear a proverbial pin drop. There are a few coughs here and there but, for the most part, they just stare at me silently.

Judging me.

Condemning me.

Hating me!

They can hardly believe that such a monster would dare to show her face before them again.

I try so hard not to cringe. Me, of all people, should know the value of presenting a strong public image. If I don't seem confident or take myself seriously, why should the audience feel that way?

I used to be very good at wearing a fake smile or professional mask, but in that moment I felt as flimsy as a leaf barely clinging to the branch of a tree. All it would take is one gentle breeze to blow me away.

Despite myself, I try to scan among the faces of the audience in order to try to read them. I know in my heart I would not see anything good, but the feedback is still valuable. It's always wise to look before one leaps. Assessment and gathering data is a critical step to gaining control over any situation one faces. Even if that feedback is negative, it is still wise to search the territory. After all, if I knew for a fact that an individual field is littered with landmines, isn't it wise to know where they are so one could avoid them?

Critical thinking is a skill one has to develop, just like anything else in life, but most of my fellow human beings take that for granted. Instead, they tend to be impulsive and rush ahead into a situation blindly just because they happen to have the whim for a split second. They do it because it feels good until they run into the consequences of their actions as a result of being a damn moron.

But hey! What can I do? It's not my fault that everyone in the world is so retarded.

Including me, apparently. Why else would I be standing here at this moment?

Despite the attempt, I fail to pick out many details of the crowd. My eyes are not adjusted to the dark yet.

And then the light came on.

The spotlight hits right on me. It feels like an assault. Now there is no way my eyes will adjust to the darkness. Not with that damn light shining right at my face! I resist the urge to pull one of my hands up to shield my eyes.

As it is, I do flinch. It feels like one of those interrogator lights which shines on the faces of criminal suspects in the movies and TV shows.

“Confess!” the light seems to demand, if lights could talk. “Tell us what happened! Tell us all your dirty little secrets.”

The audience already knew most of my greatest sins. I already confessed that many moons ago. This situation is something different. My intention is indeed to confess . . . again . . . but to do it in a different way this time. I gave them all the solid facts as I understood them, but that really isn't the whole story.

Like it or not, I am more than just a machine full of facts and numbers. I am a human being who is full of human emotions too, and those emotions also need to be addressed. I can give facts using words and numbers easily enough, but emotions . . . that is more elusive.

Expressing my emotions, or at least my true emotions, is not my forte. I'm a prodigy at so many things that it's kind of scary, but being utterly sincere is definitely not one of them. I'm so accustomed to telling lies that even I have forgotten what the truth is sometimes.

But tonight I decide to challenge myself. Tonight I decide to venture beyond my comfort zone because I feel that is the least I could do. After everything I've done, they deserve to know the whole truth. They need to know who I really am.

In order to express myself fully and lay my soul bare for all to see, there is only one way I can conceivably do that.

With a bit of trepidation, I lift up the edge of my violin to rest upon my right shoulder. While holding up the other end of the violin with my left hand, I lift my bow above the violin strings. There I hesitate once again, hovering the bow above the strings.

This is it. Time to reveal everything. The story of my life.

A few coughs among the audience threatens my concentration. In addition to the burning fury I feel from them, some of them were additionally growing impatient. That, in turn, undermines my confidence.

I start breathing hard again. I shut my eyes tight.

Get a hold of yourself! You got this! You know this! You know this so damn well that you were eagerly offered a scholarship to Juilliard, for Christ’s sake, along with half a dozen other Ivy league campuses making the same offer.

At least, they used to be interested in you. After your confession, however, I think they are now embarrassed that they ever offered you such a valuable opportunity.

In short, I ruined my life. There is nowhere left to go now other than up.

The hand that holds the bow starts shaking. I glare at my own hand defiantly. How dare my body betray me like this! Not now! Not when it's so important. Not when I have so much to reveal.

They may not ever forgive me, but at least they should know the truth.

And so, after swallowing hard, I take the plunge.

And crash hard.

The violin complains like a cat screeching in agony. Not only did I wince in pain, but pretty much everyone else did as well.

Try as I might, I can not recall when I have ever messed up this badly before. Even when I first picked up the instrument, I was at least halfway decent. It was as if the thing was always a part of me and I finally discovered a deeper truth about myself, like pretty much everything else that I'm passionate about.

Like social manipulation, math, cognitive and critical thinking, strategy, observation, analysis . . . treachery. It seems as if everything I touch turns to gold, at least for a while.

It’s not a wonder why I turned into such a massive bitch! It is a wonder how my ego could ever fit into an entire room, let alone my small and petite body.

But today, of all days, my talents betray me, just like I have betrayed others. How cruelly ironic. I would be more amused at this situation if it wasn't so goddamn important to me! I need this, dammit! Not now! Please not now!

I close my eyes, lower my head, and curse myself. I berate myself as I had done to so many others, at least mentally. I already feel lower than shit, but now I have to be a damn failure on top of that.

I just want to express myself! I want everyone to know who I truly am without any filters or pretenses. For once, I am trying to be entirely honest and it's backfiring on me. It's as if the whole universe is conspiring against me, as if the universe is trying to say, “You're a liar and you are really damn good at it. Why stop a good thing now?”

Because, I mentally answer the universe, I don't want to be like that anymore. I don't want to be an awful person! I don't want to keep hurting the ones I care about, and I don't want to be isolated anymore.

In lies, I am hollow. I'm like a pale imitation of a girl. A mere shadow, like a lifeless doll sitting on a shelf and slowly gathering dust, or an empty picture on the wall.

I want to be real for once! I want to make a true and genuine human connection but, to do that, I have to abandon my old ways.

The past no longer defines me because my past is not today!

No, instead of that, I am nothing at all. I used to be a shell full of lies, but now I'm not even an illusion anymore.

In my past, I used to be strong and confident.

Now I am not.

I'm just a weak, scared, hurt, pathetic and helpless little girl shriveling in front of their eyes, like wax melting in front of a laser beam. Just because I deserve something, however, still does not make it easier to accept.

Well, perhaps a bit easier, but in no way strongly enough to prevent it from being a challenge.

Indeed, an overwhelming challenge.

At that moment, I hear the murmurs of confusion and annoyance around me. When I hear that, I know I have crossed the line.

There is no way to recover from a blunder this severe. They have already seen my weaknesses. Despite all of my training, I made the worst mistake imaginable while trying to influence a crowd. At this point, they are likely to tune me out now.

My heart pounds more loudly than ever. The pressure building in my skull muffles the sound of the crowd around me. I can't even gather information anymore.

What’s worse, I'm starting to feel dizzy again and my chest is collapsing. My watch beeps a quiet alarm. Something is very wrong with my heart rate now. More than likely, my blood-sugar level is dropping dangerously low. With all that on top of everything else . . .

I . . . I can't do this! This is a mistake!

Tears well in my eyes.

I tried to be brave this time. I really, really tried . . . but to no avail. Some holes are just too deep. Some sins cannot be forgiven or understood, nor should they be.

I know when the odds are against me. I calculate it in my head every single time I face a new situation. It's just one of my quirks. It's part of my OCD.

Right now, what little information I have gathered indicates a ninety-two percent chance that I've completely fucked up this apology and explanation attempt. There is no point in trying anymore. They have already decided that I'm a villain, and now they are too disgusted to hear me out as well.

The worst part of it is the realization that I truly am a villain, just like my pony counterpart in the other world. Both of us are crazy and sadistic bitches and, because of that, we are both unworthy of love, forgiveness, or even tolerance.

A good strategist, like me, knows when she's beaten. Any attempt to continue this charade is only going to result in further embarrassment for myself. Since there is no obvious advantage to that, it's time to call it quits.

In other words . . . checkmate.

I feel like apologizing to the audience for wasting their time, but the words freeze in my mouth. I do not have the courage to face them or speak anymore. Besides, I doubt anything can come out of my mouth anyway at this moment. Not with the collapse in my chest or my throat this clogged up.

So, instead, I turn to leave.

This is humiliating. It reveals to everyone that I am truly defeated. Now there is no question of it anymore. The audience is pretty much certain now that I've lost my nerve, and they have every right to think that. It's completely true.

I guess I succeed in revealing myself after all, even to myself. I am a broken coward.

The thing is, for once, I have no plan after this. No future. It's all just meaningless emptiness. Perhaps that was my true destiny all along. Perhaps I am meant to be a forsaken and unloved villain in any reality.

But then I hear something that gives me pause . . . my name being called. It is somewhere behind me. Someone who is calling to me desperately. I hear that despite the pounding in my ears.

I stop, then slowly turn my head around. As soon as I do, that goddamn light is in my face again. Because of it, I can't see what's beyond. I can't see the audience, but I can hear them. True, they are muffled a bit due to the building pressure in my skull, but they call out loudly enough to be heard anyway.

I am stunned. I don't believe I'm the only one. Several people are calling out to me, trying to encourage me. So great is their determination that they don't care if they get hostile judgments from anyone else in the room. Clearly, this is not a popular opinion, but they don't care. They bellow out their words of encouragement anyway. They see me about to give up on everything I ever cared about, perhaps even life itself . . . but, from the void, their voices call out. They call out to me so passionately.

I can't ignore them because I care for them too.

If anything, their volume actually rises over time. Their voices join in sweet unison, like one voice of harmony. Despite everything I've known about them, I can't believe my ears.

Forgiveness, tolerance, friendship, love . . . they spout it all out. They tell me to be strong and to not give up. They remind me that I am not alone anymore.

I used to be in the company of many acquaintances that barely cared for me. Now I stand here with just a small handful of truly loyal, kind, and brave friends. Friends that won’t allow me to suffer or quit without a fight.

How did this happen? At what point did my hated enemies and betrayed victims turn into loyal friends? This makes no sense! It isn't logical! This can't be happening!

But it is. As much as my logical mind wants to deny this, their adamant voices do not silence.

Strangely enough, they even seem to be winning over the rest of the crowd, or at least they grew curious. I did not expect that under any circumstances or reality.

Why? Why me? I'm a monster and everyone knows it. Why do these people still care for me so much?

Then I recall something Pinkie Pie once said to me many years ago. She said that she had once looked around at her other friends gathered in a mall who admitted their own guilt and recovery from a villainous past. She looked at Juniper Montage, the visiting pony-turned-temporary-human Starlight Glimmer, Sunset Shimmer, and Twilight Sparkle. After she looked across them, she realized aloud, “Wow! We have a reeeeeeeeaaaaally forgiving group.”

At that moment it dawned on me that those words are and were indeed true. Time and time again, that group of friends prove willing to overlook the worst in people and openly invite the best in people. If they can see past the sins of others, maybe they can overlook my transgressions as well.

Then I thought about Sunset Shimmer's transformation into a she-demon many years ago, almost ruining the fall formal at Canterlot High. After that, almost everybody turned against her because of what she said she did.

At this moment I can easily sympathize with that. It burns my soul to face all those hostile stares.

But Sunset didn't give up back then. She faced it bravely with a kind soul and a warm smile. She was rejected by most at the time, but there were a few that reached back to her. She later told me that she desperately needed that. If nobody had reached a kind hand back to her, then it would be all too easy to slip back into her old ways.

Not only did she endure this trial, but she rose above it. She stood up strong and firm in the face of overwhelming adversity. She reminded her own friends to be kind to each other when they started to forget that themselves.

I still fondly remember when she said she picked up a microphone and bravely faced the astral projection of the Sirens. At that moment the first words that she sang felt especially poignant to me at this moment.

“You're never going to bring me down.

You're never going to break this part of me.”

She faces the sunrise on top of the roof of Canterlot High while raising her arms as if in joy to greet the day. I remember how her hair and whole body glowed in the sunlight as if invigorated by the warmth of the light.

A hero, I knew, isn't just someone that saves people. A hero inspires others to be their best too, and that's the way I've always felt when I beheld Sunset Shimmer. She reveals that there is a light that shines in everyone's heart. A light that shines like rainbows.

To call friendship “magical” used to feel like meaningless tripe to me, but then I experienced it while standing on that stage. A tingling and warmth in my heart that melts my concerns. I feel stronger because my friends lift me up out of my proverbial pit of despair, but they didn't stop there. They do not just pick me up off the ground, they lift me up into the air. They make me feel like I can fly!

Oh man! I've so badly underestimated this “Friendship is Magic” business. It really does have the power to change hearts for the better.

I close my eyes. I continue to cry, but it is happy tears this time. I felt their power and words of encouragement invigorate me, just like the sunlight does for Sunset.

I feel my heart steady. My chest opens up. My lungs clear. My dizziness vanishes. The pressure in my skull ceases. This feels much better than a shot of insulin. This is what I truly need deep down. It makes me feel whole and complete.

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . there is hope for me yet with this human contact business. Even if the whole rest of the world rejects me, it doesn't matter to me anymore. I have a small handful of friends. Maybe I'll get more as time goes on. They feel like shelter in a rainstorm. They lift me up and protect me. They nourish my soul. I'm so much more than I was because of them.

And, from now on, I will follow their heroic example.

I am talented. I am powerful! I am special. I'll show everyone what I can really do now that I finally decided to use that force for good. We will all face a far better tomorrow because of my intentions today.

So, without opening my eyes, I hold onto the moment, that inner feeling of warmth. I use it to draw strength in a time of need.

So I lift my violin to my neck again and raise my bow above it.

This is it. For real, this time. Nothing is going to break me down anymore. As long as I have my friends to love and guide me, I am unstoppable! They thought I was powerful before? Wait till they see this new part of me!

So the true confession begins now. This time I will reveal everything. I will lay my soul bare. For my friends, for my future, for my mother . . . I lay it all on the line.

I play.

I wouldn't be surprised if many readers are caught off guard by this chapter consider it followed one as grim as "Eyes in the Dark".

The reason for the complete 180 of the main character is because of the time skip involved between chapter 0 and chapter 1. In fact, this chapter is a sneak peek at the ending of the story itself. Now all that's left to do is guide the readers up to that point.

I wrote this chapter to illustrate the point that this story is ultimately a redemption arc for the main character, but that will be a rare reminder during the course of the story.

For the most part, she follows a negative story arc that gets worse instead of better as time goes on but with occasional rays of hope along the way, mostly stemming from others that dearly care for her.

To be faithful to the source material, this character is deliberately modeled after a villain and antagonist in the main show except she's the human equivalent.

If you choose to follow this character's story, be warned that she will make some awful choices many times (hence the dark tag) because that is her initial mindset, but those choices will have consequences that she's going to have to learn to deal with. A character like this cannot be redeemed until the old regime breaks down for her first. Only then can her worldview be rebuilt as something far more beautiful.

Let me know what you all think. I'd love to hear from you.

If anyone is interested to help me proofread this story and make it better, PM an e-mail address to me and I'll share editing permissions to Gdocs files, possibly including chapters not posted on this site yet. So, if you help me, you'll get early access to the later chapters of this story. As of 2/11/2020, I'm up to five chapters.