Bruised Apples, Lightning Storms

Gratitude

A horrible cry rang out, startling Rainbow into an upright position. Lights popped in front of her eyes, and she fell back into the mattress, clutching her head with a hoof.

'Because a migraine is really what I need right now, of all things. Was I not drinking enough again, or-

You concussed yourself while showing off. Anything you did bombed, and now you're in the hospital again. How much do you think your parents have?

Her head throbbed, like a nail being hammered through her skull, each strike of the mallet piercing further into her brain, fuzzing the thoughts pouring into her soul.

They'll get a divorce, be in debt. If it wasn't for you, everyone would be happy. You deserve this for being such a burden.

Resisting the voice, she held herself close. Her whole body shook as she sat, helpless, dreading the oncoming stage of the migraine: Unavoidable pressure. It started with the feeling of a brick being set atop her head, followed by another, and another, until they built a tower, toppled, and brought her crashing down to the last stage;

Her stomach hissed at the mention of it. Hopefully, (for their staff's sake), they kept buckets on hoof.

She needed to know the time, how long she'd have to endure the lonely, sludgy seconds, where all she could think about was her own misery. The hospital always kept clocks on the bedside table: she recalled this particular piece of pointless information from the many experiences of medical care she had on record, the many years in urgent care...
Rainbow rolled over in her hospital bed, wishing the whole building would just fucking explode.

Her muzzle was now an inch away from a long wooden bar; nothing she had ever been given before. Had she done more than just break a leg? Did they expect her to be stupid enough to fall out of bed? It wasn't like she was going to hurt herself.
Or others...
Maybe she had punched a nurse and they had to chain her to the bed, leaving her to dehydrate in a concussed state, restraining her limbs like one of the mental patients on the second floor. Rainbow had long suspected them to be placed so low in the building in case they, uh," Did themselves and all of Equestria a favor ", when push came to shove.

Had she jumped, too?

The memories: Leaving home, leaping from the edge, hearing Her song, getting ripped from the bottom wood plank, in a gorgeous sky of apples and darkness. They flashed in her mind, repeating with greater intensity and volume. The swarming of recollections was hell; an unplanned orchestra of emotion and grief. Each one shocked her, making her blood run cold. It was physically straining her, any nerve she possessed seemingly scrunching up, the muscles tearing, to be sewn back together, but in the wrong order. The skin on her very flesh was burning with the reality, and she curled her forehooves forcefully around a wooden bar, not caring if it cracked. She panted unevenly, wings twitching and jerking violently. Her vision blurred, froze, then cut, leaving only white. Panic shot through her, and coupled with the of pain. All sound was extinguished, but she felt her jaw stretching wide in a silent, terrible scream that wouldn't escape her throat. Snapping her eyes tight shut, tears sept through them despite her feeble efforts in the light of such unendurable torture: Everything she'd done was wrong, nothing could be fixed, there were no more happy endings. It was over.

Then it all stopped. Quickly disarming herself of the bar, she waited with held breath: the pain had dissipated for now, and something was...different. She felt smaller, more vulnerable, as if bits and pieces of were removed, and she was what had been left behind.