I was laying somewhere cushy, that was the first thing I realized. Whatever I was laying on was soft, but had a tension not unlike a mattress. I lazily moved to put my hooves out to stretch, but for some odd reason they wouldn’t move. It felt like... they were being bound?

My eyes snapped open, and for a moment I thought I was in a dream. I was in a place where every wall seemed to be an actual mattress, but then it dawned on me there was only one kind of room like that.

Panicking, I looked down to my barrel, where my forelegs were bound across it in a straightjacket. It served only to sustain the panic that was slowly rising.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, knowing there had to be somepony listening. I tried rolling myself like a log, which in retrospect would have probably been funny if I had been watching, but right then I was terrified. What had I done to land in an asylum? I finally caught a glimpse of a door, and almost instantly it opened, and five ponies walked in. Three out of them appeared to be orderlies or guards, wearing uniforms while the other two were in lab coats.

“Phalanx, I know you’re probably wondering what’s going on.” The white pegasus stallion in the lab coat said in a voice that sounded like it was meant to calm a child.

“I’m not two years old, Doc.” I replied, wondering why I was in here. I was a Royal Guard for Celestia’s sake!

The doctor seemed to not be affected, while the mare next to him, presumably a nurse, seemed taken aback.

The doctor took a breath, and explained something a bit obvious, “You’re in Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, Phalanx.”

“I figured out the hospital part, you know.”

“You were admitted here because you have displayed traits of severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” The stallion informed me, and I raised an eyebrow. “You assaulted three of your fellow Guards after something triggered a reaction.”

“You’re joking, right?” I laughed, “I wouldn’t ever attack them.”

The stallion once again seemed unaffected, but he seemed to be looking at me with a bit of curiosity. “You broke two ribs of Legion’s, gave a concussion to Claymore, and broke Sparrow’s leg.” He told me, and the fact that he knew their names informed me that either this was an elaborate joke, or was the real deal. “You were subdued by five other Guards, during which you were shouting, ‘They’re everywhere! Watching us from the damned trees!’.”

For some reason, the “tree” part made me feel a lot more alert, and I felt my heart start beating faster.

“You were admitted yesterday night after being administered a sedative and as of this morning have been discharged from the Royal Guard for being unfit to serve.” He informed me, and whatever happiness I had in that moment shattered like thin ice. Joining the Royal Guard had been a dream of mine for years; I had sacrificed a lot of my own time to make sure I would even catch the eye of a recruiter for the Royal Guard, not the Equestrian Guard.

Now I was being told that after six weeks of actually being a Royal Guard, I was no longer one. To say I was unhappy was an understatement.

“I’ve been discharged?” I breathed, knowing it would be unwise to show much more than that.

“They would have honorably discharged you,” The stallion told me, seeming to choose his words, “But due to the... circumstances of your discharge, they couldn’t.”

For a moment, I just sat there, feeling any purpose of my life dissipate. My special talent was strategic and tactical planning, and now I was being officially told that I couldn’t anymore. My life now was officially meaningless.

“Look, we’ll get you out of the straightjacket, but you need to promise me you won’t attack any of us.” The stallion said, for once his tone seeming natural.

I just nodded, so the nurse went and gingerly unbound the restraints, and after she took the straight jacket off, I waited a moment to stretch my forelegs, so as to not look like I was going back on my promise.

“What’s your name?” I asked the stallion, and he smiled.

“I’m Doctor Harthan Pszichiater,” He said, “You can just call me Doctor Harthan. Do you mind if we talk in my office?”

“Of course not.” I said, trying not to sound malicious.

He gestured for me to follow, and I walked out the door with him into a corridor that was expected of a hospital. I knew the orderly-guards were trailing behind me, but I focused on the pegasus I was following.

The hospital seemed abnormally empty, both the corridors and the rooms with windows. After going through several near-identical corridors, not that I wouldn’t have known how to find my way through them if I needed to, we finally arrived at a regular hospital door, an oddity compared to the other doctor’s offices which had oak wood doors. On the right-hoof side of the door there was a label: “Doctor [Harthan], PSYD”, the surname being covered by a piece of white tape with his first name.

“Unorthodox.” I thought, wondering if he got into any trouble for the abnormal.

Doctor Harthan grabbed a key and unlocked the door, and I followed him in. The furniture wasn’t what I expected, to say the least. Instead of there being wooden bookcases, desks, and chairs, they were replaced with steel. A carpet was absent, and the window was covered with depressingly gray shutters. In essence, it appeared the Doctor had gone out of his way to mimic the way his patients lived, and it spoke to me.

“You can sit down Phalanx.” He said, gesturing to the only nice-looking chair, an oak-wood chair with a cushion. His chair, on the other hoof, was a steel folding one. I took my seat, and after grabbing a folder from a steel filing cabinet, he sat down as well, and set his forelegs on the desk.

“So, Phalanx, as I stated earlier, you were admitted yesterday after you assaulted your fellow guards, specifically you were involuntarily admitted.” He restated, looking at me with the curious look from before. “Captain Shining Armor specifically insisted upon your admittance being involuntarily.”

“Look,” I told him, “I’m not crazy okay? I probably just hadn’t gotten enough sleep or-”

“You had fallen unconscious after a traumatic incident while on deployment in Ponyville. After which, you remained unconscious for eighteen hours before you woke up and after a minute of conversation, proceeded to assault Legion, Claymore, and Sparrow.” Doctor Harthan informed me in a blunt tone.

“But... what happened? I don’t remember any incident!” I argued, even though it seemed like what he said faintly ringed a bell.

“You most likely have unconsciously attempted to avoid remembering any details due to your disorder.” Doctor Harthan calmly replied, “I believe from the reports on the incident from Legion that I know what triggered the reaction, but I would prefer not to test that right now.”

“You better not.” I heard one of the orderly-guards mutter, and Doctor Harthan must have as well, because he glared at the perpetrator.

“I was also told by your fellow guard Claymore to tell you that ‘You are much stronger than you look’.” That in itself didn’t surprise me. It probably wasn’t exactly what Claymore had said, but was the censored gist of it.

“Are they alright?”

“Yes, they were out of the medical center within an hour.” He told me, and I decided to ask one of the toughest questions I ever have.

“So... How long am I in here for?” I asked, and I knew I could feel tears forming at the very edge of my eyes.

He sighed, “As long as needed, until I and a group of other doctors deem that you are not a harm to yourself, or anypony else.”

“So I’m stuck here in the loony bin in other words?” I asked, now definitely putting up a fight not to show tears, one that was right now being barely won. “I’ll be stuck in a padded cell in a straight jacket?”

He looked at me with something that didn’t seem to be like a parent reassuring a child that everything would be okay, but rather a look a friend would give to comfort another. “I wouldn’t call it a ‘loony bin’, but yes you will be an inpatient here. Also, you won’t be in a padded cell in a straight jacket unless you prove you need to be.”

“What about-” I asked, now starting to lose my defense against the tears, “What about my family? Will I be able to see them? What about Legion or-”

“They actually have been requesting to see you, but due to hospital protocol, we have to wait forty-eight hours before we can consider.” He informed me, “Not that I believe it is beneficial in this case, but I’m not the administrator here.”

“Is it,” I asked, now seeing the edges of my vision blur, “Is it alright if I go to wherever I am staying while I’m in here?”

“Of course.” Doctor Harthan replied with a smile. I got up, and as I headed to the door, with one of the orderly-guards leading the way, the Doctor spoke up. “And Phalanx?”

“Yes?” I asked, my vision now blurry.

“I think you’re the only pony who I have met here who hasn’t cried for as long as you managed to.”

I would have taken offense, but I felt what the Doctor meant behind the words. He was genuinely being kind.

“Thanks.” I said, and I started to follow the orderly-guard to the next section of my life: being a patient at Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital.