Author's note: Sorry guys, for this chapter being so late. I've been procrastinating a bit, toying with different ideas, but I hope you enjoy the outcome!

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The other Crusaders nodded and shut the door to the barn, sliding the rusty bolt in place.  With the loud chink of the rust grinding against the metal, Apple Bloom untied the knot in the sack, letting their captive out with a flourish.

Twist blindly stumbled around, tripping over and screaming through the gag, stamping on the floor and letting out loud sobs. Apple Bloom’s eyes lit up, and she took off the gag and blindfold, breathing in the scent of Twist’s fear, letting the ear-splitting scream sink into her mind. She looked at the pile of weapons Sweetie Belle had assembled – scalpels, knives, scissors, thick, knotted rope, even a screwdriver, hammer and nails for Scootaloo.

She took the rope in her hooves, her mind auto-piloting her actions. She tied it into a strong lasso, just like Applejack had shown her a few summers ago. She launched it up in the air, a passionate strength washing over her in a fit of excitement, and swirled it around, allowing momentum to build up in the frayed fibres.

She let it fly down onto Twist’s neck, pulling it tight. Striding towards the now silent, winded Twist, Apple Bloom laughed coyly, pulling the rope like a leash, until she was looking Twist straight in the eye, her hard eyes softening momentarily in the face of the defenceless filly, before instantly glazing over, indifferent to the guilt. Apple Bloom was resurfacing, but the demons inside her were determined to let her drown.  She snaked the light brown fibre around Twist’s body, carefully avoiding the cutie mark area. She hopped up on a stool, tying Twist’s body up on a rafter like a sick piñata, ready to have the candy beaten out of her. Apple Bloom took the scalpel in her hoof, but Sweetie Belle tapped her, her eyes anxious. Apple Bloom gestured towards Twist, bowing her head.

“All yours.” She whispered.

Sweetie Belle only nodded and closed her eyes, trying to remember her fantasy. Notes filled her mind, drowning out Twist’s anguished sobs. Her eyes snapped open, revealing glimmers of hope in her grass green irises, narrowing as she grabbed a scalpel and stalked up to Twist, who was swinging like a pendulum. She steadied her with an ivory hoof and brought the scalpel to her throat. Just like I imagined, she breathed, stay calm.

“Now… I want you to sing, Twist. Do you know the Cutie Mark Crusaders song? The one we performed?”

Twist nodded mutely, a shaky hiccup emerging from the depths of her chest.

“Well, sing it. If you get everything right, perfect, I’ll… I’ll let you go.” Sweetie Belle murmured, her confidence suddenly sinking. What if she does it?

Twist opened her mouth, fresh tears streaming down her face. She let out the shaky notes, her lisp ringing out clearly.

“When you’re….a younger pony…” she shakily began, closing her eyes, blocking out the blurry, dark world around her, the glint of the silver blade beneath her.

Sweetie Belle nodded, trying to swallow down her guilt and focus on the euphoric feeling she had previously attained in her imagination. She didn’t look Twist in the eye, instead choosing to focus on the formation of beads of sweat on Twist’s brow, chuckling at her timidity.

“And your flank has nothing there…” Twist croaked, her lisp shrouding the words that fell from her trembling lips.

Sweetie swallowed and closed her eyes, sharply bringing the blade across Twist’s jugular vein. Blood dripped out, and Sweetie knew she had to operate quickly. She beckoned over the other two, and with a feeling of euphoria caused by the time pressure, she began slicing musical notes into the skin, whilst Scootaloo half-heartedly flayed at it.

Apple Bloom greedily licked at the wounds, drinking the blood, mixing her saliva into each wound, even gently pulling at some muscles. Twist was already growing weaker, far too weak to produce blood-curdling screams any longer. Anything particularly painful could only summon a whimper, but tears still ran freely from her eyes. Scootaloo looked into Twist’s eyes, silently apologising. Twist nodded slightly, understanding, only to be interrupted by Apple Bloom slicing open the cavity in which her organs lay and ripping out her intestines, the long, slimy banners of flesh curving around Apple Bloom’s neck as she wound it, nipping at the organ. She didn’t stay distracted for too long, however, and proceeded to take out the remaining organs, her laughing building to a screaming crescendo, ringing through the walls of the barn, Apple Bloom’s eyes becoming crazed as she eagerly bit into Twist’s stomach, ripping it in two. Blood splattered across the hay on the floor, and Apple Bloom leant in to Twist for the last time, ripping out her heart in a fluid arc, the momentum swinging her back with a loud crash. She scrambled to the nearest weapon – a knife. She noticed that the hammers, nails and scooter parts had gone un-touched, and silently wondered how Scootaloo could be missing out on something so wonderful. She cast the though aside and instead plunged the knife into the twitching organ, blindly hacking parts off, her laugh still screaming in the ears of the other fillies.

Sweetie Belle drew a circle around Twist’s cutie mark, letting the skin peel off. She scraped all the flesh off it and lay it behind a haystack, to dry. She looked at the mangled, broken corpse in front of her, and although guilt pulsed through all of her body, her heart hammered with excitement. Her eyes darted up to see a gleeful Apple Bloom screaming, cackling, her hollow eyes wide, almost bulging out of her skull. Sweetie Belle looked at Scootaloo, then to the floor. With the Harvest finished, so was their friend.

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