After a few minutes of winding through corridors, the orderly-guard in front of me finally halted. “This is your room.” He told me in a surprisingly meek voice.

Next to the steel door entrance of the room itself, there was a sign that read “Inpatient Suite 061.” I subconsciously figured that the first number referred to the floor, then the second referred to a specific hallway or corridor, and the last number was the actual digit of the room in the particular corridor.

“The things you learn to take notice of in Royal Guard training.” I thought to myself as the orderly-guard keyed the door open. I went in after he gestured for me to do so. It seemed decent: there was a regular-looking bed, not that I would have noticed a difference if there was a bunk, and a door to what was presumably the bathroom. The furniture consisted of a steel bookcase, a steel desk, and a chair.

“Dinner will be at 5 o’clock,” The orderly-guard informed me, and I just nodded. “If you need anything just say so.”

“What a subtle way to remind me my room is being monitored,” I muttered under my breath. The orderly-guard took his leave, and as the door shut, I didn’t pay the turning of a lock my attention.

Instead, another part of me kicked in. One that recognized that in some ways I was a prisoner of war: I would be released when it was deemed beneficial, and that they knew I could do a lot of harm if I wanted to.

“Don’t think like that,” I told myself. “You’re here because there is something wrong.” I decided to take a look at the books on the shelf, and I could tell they were hoof-picked. They were generic books: the adventure novel Daring Do and the Crystal Heart, a couple of reference books such as Mareiam-Webster Dictionary, and Royal Equestrian Encyclopedia 1244 Edition.

I took a glance at the desk, and to my surprise there were a few sheets of paper on it. I walked over, and I saw there was writing on the papers. “Letters,” I murmured and looked at the first one, which was in printed writing. I probably shouldn’t have done that, though, because it only served to lower my already abyssal spirits; it was my letter of discharge.

By order of Captain Shining Armor,

As of 0530 hours on May 26, 1245, Corporal Phalanx Spear is hereby discharged from the Equestrian Royal Guard on grounds of being unfit to serve. Corporal Spear is to be involuntarily admitted to Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital, for treatment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I couldn’t bring myself to read the rest of the letter. I turned it over and moved it to the other side of the desk. The next letter was hoofwritten, and I recognized it as Captain Shining Armor’s.

Phalanx,

First of all, please understand that I put you in Broadhoof because it was the only option other than trying you in a military tribunal, not to say nopony would blame you. I understand that you have worked at becoming a Royal Guard for a long time, but I was trying to also make sure that you wouldn’t be dishonorably discharged due to you assaulting other Guards.

Phalanx, I wish you the best in the hospital. I am still trying to figure out what happened before you returned to the Ponyville Barracks. Your fellow squad mates have been a little more concerned about you than telling me whatever the hell happened beforehoof.

Get better in there, Phalanx, it would make me much happier to hear you’re in a better state of mind than anything else.

From,

Shining Armor

I knew he had his heart in the right place with his decision yet it still made me feel the slightest bit betrayed. I had worked so hard, so very hard to get into the Royal Guard, but now life had been the trickster it was. It had let me join the Royal Guard, but only for a short time.

“Why is life so cruel to some, while it is kind to others?” I mused to myself, as I looked at the last letter, which was in my father’s hoofwriting.

Phalanx,

I got a letter about what happened. Your mother and I came to Broadhoof as fast as we could, but they say we have to wait two days before they can consider letting us visit you. Get better, Phalanx.

With love,

Your Dad

I got up and looked out the window that was covered by a metallic grate, and I silently cried for a moment. It felt like this had all been my fault, even though I knew it wasn’t. Because of one action, one damned action, my life had hit a reset button.

I was now in a place where I had similarly begun my life, granted it wasn’t the same kind of hospital, but it was in many ways the same. I was in a ward being ensured I was fit to enter the world outside, the world where everything was open and free, well, idyllically anyways. Being in the military made me see that a lot had to be done in order to ensure Equestria actually seemed that way internally.

“I wonder what they think of me? That I’m like a foal who needs to nurtured? That I’m not what I worked so hard to be?” I sobbed, not caring anymore what anypony who was watching thought.

I heard a gentle knock at the door, and I looked over to see Doctor Harthan standing in the doorway, the door itself being halfway open. “Mind if I come in?” I wondered why he would even ask that. I was the patient, I didn’t really have the option to say no.

“Of course,” I answered, resisting the temptation to be sarcastic.

The pegasus entered, and walked over to where I had my desk.

“You read through the letters I had left for you?”

I nodded.

“You know, some of the other doctors thought that shouldn’t have been done, but in the end I did what I believed was best.” He pulled out the chair and sat down across from me. I was wondering if he was trying to get me to open up to him, being sincere, or a mix of the two.

I offered no response. After a moment, he seemed to understand my message, but decided to speak again. “Can I talk to you?”

“Why of course.” I replied, not caring if I sounded sarcastic.

“I’m asking you that as an honest question, Phalanx, you don’t have to talk to me. You didn’t even have to let me in, and you can still ask me to leave.”

“Uh huh, except you probably wouldn’t listen.”

“I would, Phalanx.” He glanced towards the ceiling as he formulated a response. “Do you want to know why I decided to become a Psychiatrist and work here?”

“Let me guess, because you wanted to ‘help’ ponies who couldn’t help themselves or some other load of hayseed. Or was it that you felt sorry because you knew somepony at one point who went into a mental hospital?” I jabbed and looked back out the window, enthusiastic to show I wasn’t the submissive one.

“I could have stopped somepony from taking their own life,” he told me. I looked back to see he had shut his eyes for a moment. “I could have stopped them if I had been the slightest bit kind. But because of my own ignorance, they are no longer with us.”

“Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe... Maybe he is trying to tell me something as well.”

“What happened?” I suddenly found myself interested in what he had to say.

“About fifteen years ago, I was a student in Manehattan’s High School. I was actually a pretty ‘popular’ colt, basically I was the jerk jock.” He gave a twisted frown, one that showed this was actually difficult for him.

“I had great grades, was one of the best hoofball players in my school, had tons of ‘friends’, and I could easily get a fillyfriend if I asked. I could even pick on the ones who were ‘not popular’ and get half of the school to laugh.”

This was sounding to me like a different pony than the one who was in the room with me, so I listened closely.

“I’ll be honest, I thought that having the status I had would make sure I would make the big bits in life, and who knows? Maybe it would have done just that.” He seemed to be holding back tears of his own now. “I forsook those close to me, my family, my real friends, my teachers, anypony who could have given the slightest bit of care about me. After all, who cared about them, they were just ponies in the way.”

He now was choking back tears. “Then, one day in winter of my junior year, maybe a month before Holiday Break, my sister came to me during lunch and asked me if I could help her with a problem. I like to think sometimes that I might have helped her had it been not been in front of half the school, but I know I wouldn’t have done it anyways. My ego was too large to even give a damn about maybe shrinking it slightly in order to help somepony else.

“I humiliated her in the middle of the school cafeteria, and it wouldn’t be the last time either. What the problem was, I will never know, it could have been academic or social. Over the next two weeks I humiliated her time and time again, and I didn’t bother to think what my actions were doing as I saw her becoming more and more withdrawn.

“It was funny to me to see my own sister be harassed, because I was the big shot. I was the colt who could instantly make or break somepony’s reputation. To see how helpless she was to my own power amused me.”

“Finally, maybe a week before break, she came to ask me a question. I will never forget it. ‘Why have you forgotten who you are?’ She asked me. ‘Who am I? Am I not deserving of being your own sister?’ ” He was letting out some tears, but continued speaking. “I ‘put her in her place’ by berating her for believing she could make me care.”

“Finally, Hearth’s Warming Eve came.” His eyes began to water and he paused to take a deep breath, “And...And when I walked downstairs, I went into the bathroom to find her Hearth’s Warming gift to everypony.” I noticed I felt tears forming as well, and I dreaded what he was about to say.

“Hanging from the ceiling from a rubber cable was my sister. She had killed herself the night before. She had finally decided after all the harassment, most of it my own, there was only one way out. In a note she taped to the bathroom mirror, there were only four words: ‘I am not worthy’.” He burst into full tears and after a moment took another breath to compose himself.

“Needless to say, my family was devastated. I didn’t bother to tell them why she had done it, because I didn’t want to admit my own terrible mistake.” I felt a lump rising in my own throat already, yet he had much more to say. “I came back to my school devastated, and one of the first things my ‘friends’ said was a ‘joke’ that I would have laughed at had it not been my own sister. ‘So I heard your weirdo sister tried to get some attention by killing herself! How desperate is that?’ That was what he ‘joked.’ ”

“It was then I knew her death was my fault, and mine alone.” Doctor Harthan stared at the floor, unable to make eye contact with me, while his tears continued to flow. “A day later, I decided to join my sister. As I was about to let myself follow in her hoofsteps, my mother decided to use the bathroom.”

He looked at me with guilty eyes. “She stopped me, and as my father and her took me to here, ironically enough. I confessed my wrongdoing to my parents and I knew in that moment I was in essence, their foal, who they loved very much, who was the murderer of their filly, whom they also loved.

“I was admitted here, and unbeknownst to me a court case was held over my responsibility in my sister’s death. For the next nine months, I slowly recovered. I found out later that the court case had barely been won, my parents barely retaining custody of me. My records were sealed by order of the court, and when I left this place, I came out with one goal in mind. I would atone for my sister’s death by ensuring I would make others avoid her fate. For the next ten years, I poured every fabric of my being into becoming a Doctor of Psychiatry.

“Finally, when I looked for where I could start my atonement, I came here. Due to my previous experience at the hospital, they were hesitant to employ me. In fact, they wouldn’t have given me a job had a certain unicorn not decided to have an episode right outside the interview office. Against their wishes, instead acting in the moment, I went out and tried to understand what was going on with her. Somehow, I was able to calm her down, because I instinctively understood how she felt. Instead of being thrown out the door, the mare in charge of employment gave me the job on the spot. Which, interestingly enough, was against the interviewer’s recommendation for my employment.

“I got my Cutie Mark that day... My talent’s understanding how others feel, and being able to help them along,” He told me with tears, “But just imagine that... Had my sister not killed herself, because of my own actions, I would never have learned what my talent was; and I have to live with that fact every single day, every single moment.”

I stood there, looking at the stallion in front of me. I didn’t know what to make of him now, it seemed there was much more to him than what he initially let on.

I asked a question that to this day I don’t know whether I should or should not have asked.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He looked at me, and gave a weak smile. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. Maybe it’s because I feel like you might understand. Maybe it’s because I just need to confess my wrongdoings to somepony else.”

I was wondering what he meant by that last part. “You haven’t told anypony else?”

“No,” he replied, “Well, if you don’t count the employees who know me from my first visit here, my parents, or the court, no I haven’t told anypony else.”

We both stood there in silence, neither of us knowing what to say.

“You know, Phalanx, I think I actually understand why I told that to you, even though I would never dare to do that to a patient,” Doctor Harthan said. “You and I are alike in a way. We both have sacrificed so much to get to our dreams, and they both have been rejected in different ways. Your’s required sacrifice from yourself, and mine required both my sister’s and my own.”

For whatever reason, I appreciated that the Doctor had trusted me with his story. “Thank you for sharing that with me Doctor, I think it helped in some way.”

“Thank you Phalanx, for listening to me ramble on about my own sins.” He looked at me, “You can just call me Harthan, I don’t feel that you need to call me Doctor Harthan.”

Harthan looked at the clock, and back at me. “I think I should be going, thank you once again Phalanx.”

As he left the room, I looked out the window once again. In my mind, I felt some comfort, because I knew I wasn’t as alone I thought. I had been given a gift from life through the form of Harthan. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.