Yandere Derpy 3

----------

>It's been nearly three weeks since the incident with Derpy.
>You never told anyone. Your initial reaction was to run outside, screaming that your bathroom was covered in blood and there was a pony's organ in your sink.
>But as you were on your front lawn, about to scream your head off, you remembered the way Carrot reacted when you told her that Derpy forced herself on you.
>At first, no one would believe you. But you had evidence. You would bring them inside, and show them what happened.
>And that's when they would find your knife on the counter, covered in blood and bits of pony. The perfect evidence of the more believable story that -you- did the deed; not that one of the sweetest, most harmless mares in Ponyville carved out their own eyeball.
>You barely believed it yourself.
>So you simply went back into your house, and over the course of a few hours, slowly cleaned the bathroom, starting with throwing away both the eyeball and the knife.
>You were never able to fully get the blood out of your wallpaper. No matter how much you scrubbed, a pink stain remained. You plan to give the bathroom walls a fresh coat of paint, you just had to finish patching the roof before then.
>You haven't seen Derpy at all. You've pretty much given up on pursuing anything with Carrot Top as well. Besides thinking you're a giant douche, by now she probably thinks you never even cared enough to give her an apology.
>It's really not that. You've just been scared shitless of running into Derpy outside. So far, your house has proven pretty safe, even though you know the psycho still delivers your mail every morning.
>That's the thing, though. She stopped knocking at your door. You still get all your mail and such, but cotton-eyed Josephina has never actually greeted you with her eerily wide smile ever since the bathroom incident.
>It's possible that you've been assigned a new mailpony. You can't imagine that Derpy would be very capable of working after carving out her own eyeball, but you've been too afraid to check. Suppose she -was- still delivering your mail, and saw you peeking out the window at her?
>Knockknockknockknockknock!
>ohshit.jpeg
>The fuck do you do now?
>Don't open the door. Just don't open it.
>What if she looks through one of the windows and sees you?
>You look around at all the windows. Luckily, all the blinds are closed.
>The house is kinda dark, actuallly.
>Knockknockknockknockknock!
>The knocking persists.
>You sit on your couch, covering your ears to shield yourself from noise, which now includes, “Anon, open up! I know you're in there!”
>Celestia, damn it. She knows you're here.
>Why won't she just leave you alone?
>You can't just ignore her.
>You need to hide.
>Hide? No, Poppanon didn't raise a pussy.
>You need to fight back.
>You get up and walk to the fireplace. Resting on the brick is the fire poker.
>If both eyes are gone, she can't stalk you anymore, right?
>You pick up the long metal rod, grabbing it by the handle and feeling its weight in your hand. It has a straight point for the direct stab, and a curve branching off like a sickle.
>You imagine yourself using this. The feel of the metal piercing her skin, digging into her flesh...
>You shudder at the thought. Could you really do it?
>Maybe you'll ust hit her over the head with it, or something. As a last resort.
>Yeah, that's a better plan. What the hell were you thinking? Stabbing a pony? That's the kind of shit that lands you in prison.
>The periodic knocking has evolved into a long, continuous stream of banging on your door with the occasional shouting of your name. Nervously, you approach the door, trusty fire poker in hand.
>The banging has increase in both frequency and force. The sound of banging, coupled with the shuddering of your house, fills your ears. You're not sure whether to get mad, or continue feeling afraid.
>Why not both?
>You're about to open the front door with the latch still on, but again, hiding won't get you anywhere. Quietly, you undo the latch. You unlock the door, slowly turn the knob...
>The door swings open. You step outside, poker at the ready, and shout,
“WHY WON'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!”
>You immediately regret that.
>Before you stands a very frightened Carrot Top. She takes a nervous step back, her eyes open wide in surprise, and her ears fold back.
>”I... understand why you might be mad,” she whispers at a volume rivaling Fluttershy. She looks to the side, a guilty expression on her face. “I'm sorry for not really listening to what you had to say... and maybe I took you too literally. Like you meant that she was actually trying to... you know.”
>'I meant what I said. Retard horse tried to rape me,' you think to yourself. Wisely, you keep it to the one person who heard it– yourself.
>”I need to talk to you, though,” she says. “About... a few things. Even if you're not willing to give me a second chance, I just... It's important.”
>Wow. Play your cards right, you may be able to get back to– no, go farther than you were with her before.
“Yeah, sure. Um, why don't you come insi–“ The image of you trying to explain your pink-a-dot bathroom to Carrot comes to mind. “Actually, could you wait here a sec? I just need to send a message to work, and get ready and all that, then I'll be right out.”
>”It's Saturday, Anon.”
>You furrow your brow and think for a moment.
“Oh. So it is.”
>Get it together, dude.
“Alright, I'll be right back out, then. We'll go to the park or something, okay?”
>”Okay. I'll be waiting.”

----------

>”I know I said it before, but I'm just gonna say it again anyway. I'm sorry, Anon. I was just kind of in the heat of the moment and all... I just get kind of emotional, you know?”
>Wow. A woman that apologizes.
>You're gonna marry this girl.
“It's fine. I'm sorry, too. I probably should have handled the situation a little differently, instead of just coming up and saying... Well, what I said.”
>She chuckles. “Yeah... So, you -were- exaggerating, right?”
“Yeah.”
>No.
“Though, not by a lot.”
>She gives you a look, but rescinds it nearly immediately. “What do you mean?”
“Well... It did kind of go from 'hanging out' to 'humping my leg' in the space of a few minutes.”
>Her mouth hangs open at this. “Wait. You're not exaggerating again, are you?”
You shake your head. “I kid you not. She -literally- dry-humped me. Right after giving me a Celestia-knows-how-valuable diamond necklace and telling me she wanted me to take her virginity.”
>”What?!”
“Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction. Inside. I really didn't know how to respond to that, so I just kinda froze up, I guess.”
>”Wow.” She stares off for a little bit, trying to take in this new information. “That's... pretty far, for a first date.”
“What? Date?”
>What the fuck? Why does she think it was a date?
>”Yeah, she said you asked her out on a date.”
>Suddenly, a lot makes sense.
“No! We were just supposed to chill together, y'know? As friends.”
>”What?!” It's her turn to freak out now. “She... She... I can't believe her! Why would she lie to me like that?!”
“I'm telling you, Carrot,” you say, shaking your head, “there's something wrong with her. Has she always been like this?”
>”No, no. She's always been such a sweet pony, I... I mean, there's the thing with her eye...”
>Not anymore.
>”...but it's not a mental condition or anything.”
“That reminds me. Have you talked to her as of late?”
>Carrot shakes her head. “No, I haven't. She stayed home from work the day that we had that big argument; I know because they sent a messenger to our house around six P.M., inquiring about Derpy. Other than that, I haven't seen so much as a gray feather lying around.”
>Well, shit. Not even Carrot knows where the crazy horse is.
“Okay, because neither have I.”
>”I'm kind of worried, really. I mean, I may be really pissed at her for lying to me and– well, doing what she did to you, but we've been friends since fillyhood. We– we all need to sit down and talk; work this out.”
>The eyeball may be worth mentioning at this point.
>Baby steps, Anon.
“Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea... supposing we could find her.”
>You hope you don't. You hope she bled out or her eye got infected or something.
>”I hope we do. She might be hurt, or hungry or cold. I really hope she's okay.”
“I wouldn't worry. I've only known her for a little while, but it's been enough time to know that she can pack a few surprises.”

--------

>Silently, you walk back to your house.
>The conversation with Carrot went surprisingly well, considering she no longer hates your guts anymore.
>A plan was also erected for how to deal with Derpy if either of you saw her:
>'Talk to her, and try to bring her somewhere where we can all three sit down and chat.'
>Yeah fucking right. That mare's beyond talking to.
>The fact that you still have no idea where the crazy bitch is nearly drives you insane.
>Literally. You couldn't even tell the difference between Derpy's and Carrot's voice this morning.
>All you could think about was Derpy.
>Derpy.
>Derpy.
>”Excuse me?”
>You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice suddenly in front of you.
>Oh. You're home.
>And there's a pony in a suit on your walkway.
“Oh. Uh, hello,” you reply to the mare.
>”Are you a Mister Anonymous?”
“Uh...” You get a weight in your stomach. “Yeah.”
>”I'm a representative from Ponyhomes realty.” She gives you a card, which you proceed to glance at for a second before sticking it into your pocket. “I'm here to confirm that you understand that you are late on your payments, and if you do not pay the money you owe you will soon be undergoing foreclosure.”
>Wait. What the fuck?!
“What?! But I never even got my bill!”
>She pulls out a piece of paper, pointing to a certain spot on it. “It says here that it was sent to you last week on Monday, at ten twenty-seven AM. It is not our responsibility to ensure that you received it, only that we sent it.”
>This is bullshit.
>”This doesn't mean that your house is definitely being foreclosed on. You can still pay it, but after next week there will be penalties.”
>The businesses here seem to be fairly forgiving.
“Okay. Thank you, Ma'am.”
>As you walk into your house, you start to wonder just how you could have missed the letter.
>Come to think if it, you haven't even gotten your water bill, or your property tax, or... your paycheck.
>You grip the doorknob, slamming the door behind you as you seethe in anger.
>Gas. You smell gas. You just want to burn something down, destroy something.
>You enter the kitchen, turning the knob to run the water in the sink.
>Water spills forth. You breathe a sigh of relief.
>At least the water's still running.
>Realizing that you're a bit thirsty after your long walk, you cup your hands underneath the facet.
>Some water will do you some good.
>As if in some cruel twist of fate, the water suddenly stops. A drop drips off the facet, landing in your hands and immediately drying up.
“Heh. Heh heh. God FUCKING DAMMIT, DERPY!”
>”Did you call me, Anon?”
>A chill runs down your spine. You reach for one of the kitchen knives close by.
>”I put all of those someplace safe, just in case you hadn't realized I'm just doing what's best for you.”
>You're mortified. You turn to face her, wondering just what you'll see.
>The little grey pony is sitting in the living room, wearing an eyepatch. Other than the new accessory, she looks like the same Derpy she was before she dug into her head like a Thanksgiving Turkey.
>You could take her down now. You could charge at her, maybe grabbing a fork while you're at it, and end this once and for all...
>...or you can be a bit more methodical. After all, you really don't know if she's stuck nails in the rug or something crazy like that.
You decide to go the careful route. “How is holding my mail in my best interests, Derpy?” you ask.
>”Well... I think that after all I've done for you, you need to give something back to me in return... After all, that's how love works. Don't you love me, Anon?”
“No, I don't! I wish you would just get lost and leave me alone!”
>She smiles; a condescending, cocky smile. “Deep down inside, I know you love me, Anon. You just don't realize it yet.”
>You take a step forward.
“If I don't love you now, what makes you think I'll love you without running water? You're a fucking retard, Derpy.”
>That, right there. That seems to have struck a nerve. Derpy's smile freezes in place, then slowly stretches, her lips growing thinner as they're pulled taught. Her pupil contracts, leaving a blank, empty, white canvas lined with thin little rivers of red.
>”What did you just call me?” Her voice has hit a disturbingly high note.
>Before you can respond, she lets out an ear-piercing screech. “I'M NOT CRAZY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” She rips off the eye patch, revealing the very tender-looking eye socket beneath. “I... I DID THIS FOR YOU! SO I WOULDN'T HAVE THAT PROBLEM ANYMORE! SO YOU COULD LOVE ME!”
>One of her wings opens up. Out drops a match box. Shakily, she picks it up, taking out one of the matches and viewing it with her one eye. “B-But... I guess you don't appreciate a gift... If you've never given something up yourself.”
>She strikes the match against the box, igniting a small flame.
>Anon.
>She's gonna burn down your house, Anon.
>You'd better stop her, Anon!
>You sprint forward, suddenly noticing the container of kerosene by your couch as you enter the living room.
>Fuck. That gas smell. That wasn't in your head.
>You stop as you see that Derpy has successfully lit a match.
>Fuckfuckfuckfuck
>”I wouldn't get any closer, Anon.” She steps forward, match balanced precariously on the edge of her hoof over the kerosene. “In fact, you might want to run.”
Your legs wobble, and you throw out your arms in despair. “Why, Derpy?”
>”Because,” she says, looking you dead in the eye, “you might get burned.”
>That's...
>Oh fuck she just dropped the match
>You watch, the world moving in slow-motion, as the match tumbles through the air towards the can of kerosene. You turn tail and run for the door, never looking back as you fear for your life.
>You make it out the door, sprinting across the street to get away from the--
>Wait a second.
>You turn around. Your house still remains intact. No fire, no explosions.
>Was she just bluffing?
>You wait there for a bit. Finally, upon deciding that your house should be the neighborhood bonfire by now, you head back inside.
>You open your door, standing away from it at first to make sure a giant fireball doesn't spew out, or something. You finally peek your head inside, just to find Derpy desperately trying to strike another match.
>The first one lies on the floor next to the container of kerosene, black and charred, but not on fire. A scratching noise is heard as Derpy continues striking the match against the box, grunting angrily as she does so.
>”Knew I should've bought a new box,” she mumbles to herself. Finally, she gets a match to light up, and holds it up to the air, viewing her work with pride. “Ah, ha--!”
>Suddenly, the air around her hoof explodes. It expands, rushing towards you with incredible speed. The heat is intense; no, that's an understatement. This is hotter than that time Rarity had you help her dress models for her new fashion line.
>Mm. You have a thing for stockings now.
>Your split-second wet dream is interrupted when an invisible force socks you in both the face and chest at once, sending you hurtling to the ground.
>Your head hits the hard dirt walkway, and you're out cold.