I didn't remember much after that, really. My mind was always jerking back to my Dad. I could hardly bear to imagine him, mangled and torn up in the ER while a bunch of doctors and surgeons worked on him with scalpels. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt myself being led out of the room, crowded around by my friends as a shield against prying eyes. If I felt any better, I'd be grateful for the amazing best friends I had. Right then, however, all I cared and thought about was my Dad.
Bow Hohoof was not the kind of guy you messed with, unless you wanted a broken nose and a broken everything in your face. But he was always easygoing towards his family. My earliest memories were of him teaching my toddler self how to play soccer. He was the one to who I owed my love for the sport.
And now he was on the verge of death.
I clenched my teeth as I entered the passenger seat of my aunt's car in front of the school. My friends hadn't left me, and I heard Fluttershy asking my aunt in a soft, shy voice if they could come over to her house later on. I looked up, still drying the stupid tears from my face, and literally begged my aunt. I don't beg for anything! But she must have seen my desperation, because not only did she invite them over, she allowed them to come for a sleepover as well if their parents allowed. I would have punched the air in victory if it wasn't my dad who was currently on the operating table.
The ride to Aunt Summer Breeze's house was also a blur. I hid my face, in case someone happened to peek inside the window and saw the one and only Rainbow Dash with tear tracks on her cheeks. The last thing I needed right now was a shattered reputation.
"Your Dad's going to be fine," Aunt Summer assured me, but I barely grunted in response. I was too sick and tired of today to even find humor in the latest half-baked lie. I wished that I could wake up, and that this was just an awful dream. A terrible nightmare.
But, of course, it was real. Painfully, heart-tearingly, real.
We arrived at her house after five minutes, since she lived in the neighborhood. It turns out that she was three houses away from Pinkie's place, and the house itself was designed with very similar architecture. But I couldn't care less. I felt numb on the inside, and it was with robotic, mechanical movements that I took out my PJs from the duffel bag already on the guest bed and made my way to the shower. As I undressed, I heard my best friends' voices from the floor below, but I didn't want to talk to them. Instead, I double-checked to see if the bathroom door was locked and closed the shower curtain. I turned on the water and gritted my teeth at the sudden onslaught of cold, but I didn't fight it.
My mind turned to earlier today, and on how oblivious I had been. How happy I was! Soarin had even played a prank on me...
Oh, Soarin.
I clenched my fists as my hair got soaked. More than anything right now I wanted my childhood best friend and boyfriend to be here, but he couldn't. Not with my best friends here. Nobody in the whole freaking school knew about us.
Soarin would understand my anger and fear. My dad had taught us soccer together.
But Soarin wasn't here.
Soarin wasn't coming.
I was alone.
I sat down in the bathtub with the cold water streaming down my head and neck and cried for the third time that day. But it wasn't loud or angry. It was quiet and deadly, like whatever was eating away at me on the inside.