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>You look behind you.
>Fluttershy tries to straighten herself in the tub. You can tell she is having severe difficulties.
>”An…Anonymous? Is...you?”
>You rush over to her.
Fluttershy? 
>You pull her towards you and hold her head in your arms.
>She lifts a dead-weighted arm and puts it around you.
>”H-hey, Anonymous…w-what happened? Am I alive?”
>Thanks to you she is. You start tearing.
Yes, Fluttershy. You’re alive, and I promise you, that everything will be okay.
>You hold the mare close to you and take in a few breaths to subside your sorrow.
>You finally break the embrace and look into her eyes. They give you a vacant stare back.
>The two of you are dripping wet…you need to say something.
Uhm...Fluttershy?
 >She looks back at you, confused. “Yeeeess?”
>She’s still not all there.
I’m sorry about this.
>”For whaaat, Anonymous?”
>She giggles at your name.
For…seeing you naked…and watching you take a bath.
>Fluttershy giggles more, at least she’s responding to your jokes.
>”It’s okay, Anonymous. I’m sorry for watching you…take a bath as well.”
>Fuck. You knew someone was in the house that night.
I-it’s okay, Flutters. 
>You both sit there in silence, staring at one another.
>”S-so…uhm…I think it’d like to get ouuuut now…”
>Her singsong voice is actually cute for once.
Sure thing.
>You get behind her and put your arms through hers to help her out of the bathtub. 
>She can barely stand on her own. You’re carrying her weight the best you can.
>You notice the layer of sweat on Fluttershy’s brow. She feels clammy.
>”Anonymous…I’m c-c-cold…”
>Fluttershy is shivering franticly; you lean her against the counter and get her a towel.
>You wrap her up and hold the jittering pony. 
>She is rattling you.
Come on, Fluttershy…
>You help her hobble to her bed.
>It’s strangely made; still pristine and plush.
>She must have just passed out on the floor every time she got high.
>You place Fluttershy under the blankets and tuck her in. She looks like a corpse ready for her last rites. 
>She shivers more, “Anonymous…I’m so cold.”
>Fluttershy closes her eyes again.
>”…I’m so tired…”
Don’t worry. I’ll get you some blankets. Please try and stay awake.
>You search her house for something to keep her warm, even though she’s sweating bullets. 
>You spot a butterfly print blanket under a pile of trash in the corner of the kitchen. 
>You grab it and rush back to your friend.
I’ve got this one, do you need more?
>You tuck it around her and feel her forehead.
>She’s hot to the touch, and her sweat is cold.
>”N-no…I’m okay…”
>It turns your stomach and rips your heart to see anybody like this…let alone this innocent, naïve mare.
>This is all your fault.
>The house seemed to be devoid of all drugs now.
>You take a seat next to her.
Fluttershy…can you hear me?
>She peeks her eyes open to you.
>”Y-yes?”
How long have you been without the opium?
>She scrunches her face up. It must hurt her to think.
>”I…I don’t know…about th-three days…I think.”
>She’s definitely going into withdrawal. Not from opium, but morphine. 
>The poppies here contain so much of it that direct use is like taking impure morphine.
>She most likely ran out of pods and opium, and resorted to making poppy tea to keep her binge going.
 > She’s in the junkie limbo at the moment. Too ill to sleep, too tired to stay awake; but the worst of the sickness is on its way:
>Sweat, chills, nausea. Pain and craving. A need like nothing else she’s ever known will soon take hold of her. It's on its way.
>You need to do something to help.
Fluttershy? I’m going to get some things for you to make the pain stop.
>She’s half asleep and licks her lips at you,
>”Mmm…y-you know w-what I want…An-nonymous…I w-want it all…cover m-my face…”
>You give off a nervous laugh as you brush Fluttershy’s mane off her sticky brow.
>You kneel down and kiss her cheek,
I’ll be back…don’t worry.
>You head to the store and track down the supplies needed to help relinquish Fluttershy of the junk.
>For this you will need: one room which you will not leave. A comfortable bed and television. Soothing music. Tomato soup, ten cans of. Mushroom soup, eight cans of, for consumption cold.
> Ice cream, vanilla, one large tub of. Magnesia, milk of, one bottle. Paracetamol, mouthwash, vitamins. Mineral water, Ponyade sports drink and one bucket for vomitus.
>You spend all the money you had saved on these supplies to at least try and salvage some pride in yourself…just enough to be able to look at yourself in the mirror.
>You pay for your supplies. It’s the same cashier as when Fluttershy loaned you money.
>Things would have been so different if you weren’t such a fuck up.
>If you could just hang on to money…
>You drag the odd assortment of groceries back to Flutter Manor.
>You fumble with the door, but finally get it open without dropping anything.
>You peer into Fluttershy’s room to see her still half asleep.
>She notices you and gives you a little wave to you.
Hi, Flutters. How are you holding up?
>”I-I’m…”
>Her eyes get as big as her cheeks.
>You quickly unstack a bucket and rush to her side.
>Fluttershy thrusts her head to the edge of the bed and unloads her stomach acid into the plastic container.
>You shy your gaze away, lest you follow her action.
>She looks up at you with teary eyes.
>”S-sorry…”
Hey now, don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault. We’re going to get through this…together.
>A tiny smile appears on her face, “th-thank you, Anonymous.”
Not a problem…friend.
>You wipe her mouth with a rag.
>Fluttershy recedes into her spot on the mattress. 
How about I wheel the television in here? We can make fun of some of the shows together.
>She smiles again…that’s good.
>You place the supplies on her dresser and fetch the t.v.
>Who knew Fluttershy had a television? Let alone a nice 40” one.
>You place it in front of the bed and turn it on with the volume lowered.
>Some daytime talk show is on; Dr. Bill or something.
>Fluttershy half pays attention to it. She seems restless.
>Understandable.
>You can’t just stand there like a nurse.
Mind if I…join you?
>She looks up at you, puzzled.
>”I-In bed? W-with me?”
Sure, if that’s okay?
>You can tell she’s overjoyed, but her nausea is causing her not to open her mouth.
>”I-I’d really like that…”
>You pull the blanket back and kick off your shoes and slip into place.
>Fluttershy is still shivering.
Hey…
>You cuddle up to her and wrap your arm around her.
I’m sorry.