Yandere Derpy 4 (Final)

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>Light. It's in your eyes. Bright, white light.
>You feel yourself coming to. Your eyelids flutter open, only to clamp shut again as the brightness stings your retinas.
>Okay, let's try this again.
>You open them again, this time a bit more slowly.
>Woah.
>You stare up at the white ceiling. Only, this is no ordinary ceiling; this one dances.
>It takes a surprising amount of effort, but you turn your head to the side, scanning the room as you go.  Beside you is some machine... some weird machine that beeps every second.
>Heh. Heh heh. It sounds kind of funny.
>You hear a door creak open. Slowly, you turn your head towards the direction of the noise, and watch as some pony approaches you.
>”Oh, good. You're awake,” the mare says. She appears to be a white earth pony, though it's kind of hard to tell if the hat she's wearing is just covering her horn. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Anonymous?”
>You don't respond at first. You're too entrance by her face; more specifically, the way it bends and deforms.
“I'm...” Your lips feel a bit parched. You smack them together and lick them before continuing. “I feel kinda... good, I guess? I dunno anymore, man. This is crazy. Everything I see is like... jello. Jello's pretty good though, so I guess it's okay.”
>The pony nods. “Yes, those are some of the effects of the drugs we gave you to relieve the pain a bit.”
>Pain? Drugs?
>You look beside you at the monitor again. It has an oddly familiar line going across it, one that you know you've seen before. You look back and forth between the mare and the black box a few times, before spotting the symbol on her head.
>Ohhh, you get it now. You're in a hospital.
>Wait. Does that mean you're injured?
“What happened to me, Doc?”
>”Well...” 'Doc' pulls out a clipboard from somewhere, looking over it before readdressing you. “You sustained second-degree burns, mostly on your face, chest, and left arm. It's also very possible that your brain may experience swelling due to the way you hit your head after the explosion, but with today's advancements in modern medicine, it should be easily treatable.”
>A lot of it flies over your head. What you got out of this lecture was burns, face, head, and...
>...explosion.
>It all comes back to you now, albeit a bit muddled and slowly. Derpy blew up your house. She nearly blew you up as well, and most likely herself.
>Yeah, that's right. There's no way Derpy could have survived that explosion. Even from where you were, the heat and the force of the explosion were super powerful. Derpy was right there, next to the can of lighter fl- no, kerosene. She had to have been burnt to ashes.
>Right?
>...
>Maybe you should ask Doc.
“Heya, Doc?”
>You suddenly realize that Doc is no longer here. You stare at the door for a little while, wondering when she left, and how she did it without making any noise.
>”Yes, Mr. Anonymous?”
>You nearly jump at her voice. As quickly as you cannabis, you turn your head to the right.
>It seems that Doc was looking at something on the monitor.
>Oh, okay. At least she's looking out for you.
“I, uh, just had a question.”
>She watches you expectantly, waiting.
“Uh, just wondering: did they find Derpy?”
>She blinks. You decide to elaborate.
“Derpy kind of blew up the house. I was wondering if they found her body yet.”
>The mare's eyes widen. She quickly jots something down on her clipboard, before looking back at you and shaking her head.
>”I'm not being informed of all the details. However, I don't think they found any cadavers or remains, as of yet.”
>No remains. There should be something, something left, no matter how powerful that explosion was.
“Not even bones?”
>She shakes her head. “I'm sorry. Was this Derpy close to you?”
>It takes a moment for you to understand what she's asking. When you do, you raise an eyebrow at the preposterous idea.
“What do -you- think, Doc?”
>She suddenly gets a guilty look. “Sorry. I'll see myself out now.”
>Doc exits the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving you to sit in silence.
>So. Derpy's alive.
>Or, maybe she's not. Maybe they just haven't found her body- or, pieces of body- just yet.
>Still. That little pony tends to pack some surprises. And now, assuming she's alive, you know for sure that she's a threat.
>Yes, she's definitely a threat. She wouldn't just blow up your house like that, and herself along with it. What does that accomplish? No, she has a plan, some sort of evil, twisted, sick plan to force you to love her.
>Surprisingly, all the ponies around you seem to live in their own blissful, ignorant worlds where Derpy -isn't- some deranged maniac out to do anything and everything to attain your love. Doc even asked if Derpy was close to you.
>No one will believe you if you said that the little gray derpy-eyed pony blew up your house with kerosene. Maybe, just maybe Carrot might, but you couldn't expect her to be able to protect you from the advances of that little menace.
>No. It's time you took measures into your own hands.
>It's time you fought back.

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>You drag yourself through town, still dressed in your hospital gown.
>It's late at night. Very late. The hospital was asleep, all except for a few guards patrolling the hallways.
>They weren't difficult to get past. Most of them are half-asleep at this point.
>You remember where Carrot and Derpy live. That's the way you head right now, armed with nothing but your fists, and your near-immunity to pain caused by the drugs.
>Speaking of which, you're starting to feel the burns. It's a dull sting, there but not unbearable.
>Perhaps some more would've helped. Still, you need to do this as soon as possible. There's no telling what that crazy pony might do.
>She might actually kill you.
>Soon, your destination looms in the distance. You mentally prepare yourself for the task ahead.
>You approach the house. Soon, you come to the door, and try the doorknob.
>It's locked, of course. You, however, were prepared for this.
“Hyah!” you shout, raising your foot high into the air.
>With all the might of a drugged Anon, you kick the door. The house shudders and you think you hear a crack, but for what you can tell, the door remains firm.
>Maybe there's an open window.
>As you fiddle with a cracked-open window on the side of the house, you hear a thump come from the front. Curious, you retrace your steps until you come to one of the house corners, and peer around the edge.
>You see her, standing confusedly out her doorway. The door itself lies before her on the walkway.
>You knew it. You knew it. Derpy is still alive. Somehow, some way, she did it.
>She backs up into her home, muttering something to herself.
>Door's open. It's time to go.
>You walk into the house. You've been here a few times before, but your memory's kind of foggy on where everything is. It also doesn't help that the house is dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles to light up the living room.
>”Anon?”
>Well, looks as if you're not going to be needing to find your way around.
>Before you stands the yellow-maned pony. Her eyes are tired but wide, and she sports a bad case of bed head.
>You waste no time. You lunge forward, giving the little pony a roundhouse kick straight to the side of the head.
>She's out cold. Not even a peep is made as she slumps over, hitting the ground with a dull thud. You grab her by her hind legs and drag her into the kitchen.
>You begin searching through her drawers for the knives.
>Hah. She tried to keep the knives away from you. But here they are, all assorted so nicely in her kitchen.
>You finally decide on one. You pull it out, gripping it tightly in your hand as you turn to the sack of potatoes on the kitchen floor.
>Apparently, the drugs didn't numb your sense of humanity.
>You bend down, closely viewing the pony who lies on her side. Her barrel expands and contracts, one of her limbs twitching every few minutes.
>Come on, Anon. You can do it.
>This mare tried to kill you, remember.
>You turn the knife so that it faces downward in your hand. Your knuckles are white from how firmly you grasp it.
>On three. Ready?
>One... two...
>You bring the knife down in between one of her ribs. It was a weak stab, however, and never manages to bring the skin. A small indent on her skin marks the spot where the tip presses into her.
>You suddenly switch grips so that the knife faces forward from your hand, and press all your weight onto the knife handle. With a jerking movement, the blade sinks halfway in, and blood begins to seep from the open wound.
>You nearly throw up. It broke past her skin, and sunk into something slightly harder underneath – you really don't know what it was, but the thought makes you shudder. You press it in again, and this time, the blade embeds itself fully into the mare's body.
>Unconsciously, her breathing begins to quicken. The twitching becomes more and more erratic, and blood seeps in small droplets from her mouth and onto the kitchen tile. It's not long before she stops moving at all.
>There. You did it. You killed her.
>Gradually, you let go of the knife, leaving it still stuck into the pony's side. You rise to your feet, viewing your handiwork somewhat disgusted, but at the same time relieved.
>You turn around, but stop. Before you stands a stallion, mouth hanging wide open.
>He's frozen, just like you. The two of you stand there for a while longer, staring at each other.
>Then, with one fell swoop, you use the same trick you did on Derpy and knock him out clean with a good, solid kick. He falls over like a sack of potatoes.
>You observe him for a moment, deciding what to do with him. You notice that his jaw is out of place, and cringe.
>You just stabbed a pony in the ribs, and an out-of-place jaw bothers you. You shake your head.
>So, what do you do now? Cover this up? They're going to wonder where Derpy went...
>Then again, not even Carrot has really known where Derpy has been. And, of course, you -did- tell Doc that Derpy died in the fire...
>They won't find any remains, though. However, whatever conclusions they draw don't concern you; they'll be too busy debating your story against the absence of evidence that they won't consider what you've done here.
>The stallion, however... He is a different matter. Likely a concerned neighbor who heard some noise, and just happened to walk in at the wrong time. You'll take care of him in a bit.
>First, hiding Derpy's body. You begin to look through the kitchen in search of a plastic bag.
>No, silly Anon. That won't be big enough. You need a blanket.
>You step into the hallway, in search of a closet that contains blankets. It's a bit dark in there, so the expedition quickly becomes a difficult one. You stub your toes a few times, but that's okay, because you can't even feel them.
>You return to the kitchen, arms full with blankets. You plop them on the floor next to her body, and begin the mystery of how to do this.
>First and foremost, you should probably start with taking care of Mr. Concerned Neighbor. God forbid he should wake up, and –
>Oh, fuck.
>He's not there.
>You sprint for the doorway. Panic begins to rise in your chest as you realize that the stallion who just witnessed you kill Derpy is nowhere to be seen.
>His jaw is broken, so you might have some time to flee before word starts to get around. Not only that, but the ponies can't just call up the royal guard – they actually have to physically run to one of the posts in town.
>Which gives you a good head start.
>You comb through the pantry for any non-perishable goods. You may be on the run for awhile, so you stuff as many cans of fruit cocktail and bread as you possibly can into one of the blankets that you brought out.
>Sorry for taking your stuff, Carrot, but I'm really gonna need it.
>By the way, has she seriously slept through this entire ordeal?
>Soon, you have enough food and water to last a hungry Anon for a month. It's a bit heavy, but you figure it'll last you long enough to get out of Equestria.
>Wow, is that what it's come down to? Leaving the land of magical, mostly friendly talking ponies?
>Damn.
>You look back at the body lying on the ground. The dim light gives her an eery yellow glow.
>No use cleaning you up now. Goodbye, Derpy. I hope it was worth all the trouble you caused me.
>And with that, you bound off into the night.

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>It's dark in here. It's humid, hot, and smells like wood.
>Boxes. They're everywhere. Why are there boxes everywhere?
>Oh, yeah. You're in a warehouse. This is where you're hiding, right?
>Yeah. Yeah, that's right.
>Your head hurts. It just won't go away. It feels like someone stuck a searing hot metal ball into the back of your head.
>In fact, it feels like that all over your skull. Hot spots, constantly hitting you, letting up for just a moment before burning into your skull again.
>Your foot, too. You did something to it when you tried to kick that door down, because it's been hurting for weeks. Not to mention the fact that you've been constantly on the run up until now.
>How long ago has it been? You check the date on a nearby newspaper you have with you, but can barely understand the words on the front page, much less attempt math.
>Too long to count.
>They've been looking for you. It's been in the newspapers, it's been on building-side posters, it's been in the faces of passer-by ponies.
>You made it to about as far as the coast of Fillydelphia, mostly by train-hopping, before hiding in this warehouse and forgetting what you were doing.
>You've been forgetting things a lot, lately. Sometimes it's things like where you are, other times it's why you're even hiding in the first place.
>Right now, though, you remember. You committed murder. You killed Derpy.
>Nobody understands. Nobody cares, everyone fears. You. Carrot hasn't come after you; hasn't tried to protect you, or to reason with you, as it seems. She probably thinks of you along the same lines as the rest of the ponies do.
>You've been missing her a lot lately. It's hard to love someone, yet never be able to see them. Never be able to touch them. Never for them to return your love.
>You can almost sympathize with Derpy.
>Derpy.
>Derpy.
>The root of all your problems.
>Had she not obsessed over you, none of this would have happened. She's the reason you're here alone with a blanket, a newspaper, and a dwindling amount of fruit cocktail cans. She's the reason you have this horrible headache, and nothing to do about it.
>Yet, somehow, you just can't blame her.
>Derpy just loved you too much, it seemed. That really was her only fault.
>Well, aside from burning down your house and performing hara-kiri on her eye in your bathroom.
>Still, had she not been so utterly insane and obsessive, you may have... well, considered her.
>Perhaps had she just waited, perhaps had she just been a little more in control of herself... things might have been different.
>Perhaps... maybe... if you'd just loved her back...
>She loved you no matter what you did. No matter how often you yelled at her, how much you hated her, she always came back. Always willing to be with you. Always willing to sacrifice.
>For you.
>Somehow, the thought is comforting. You're sure that, even in her death, she would be thinking about you. Even while knowing what you did for her, she would be there for you.
>If she could be here with you, right now, she would be comforting you. Nuzzling you. Telling her how much she loved you.
>You wish... You almost wish that she was...
>”Hi, Anon.”
>You scream, nearly jumping up to your feet at the sight of her, minding your hurt foot before making any rash decisions.
>No. No. This can't be real.
“D-Derpy?”
>She stands before you, looking as real as ever. Her eye is back, filling in the empty socket that you saw the other day; however, it's now as straight as any normal pony's would be.
>”I knew you would come back to me, Anon. I knew that, someday, you would realize you love me, even if it took you until your final breaths.”
>She comes close to you. You don't so much as flinch as she sits down before you, leaning into you as she begins to nuzzle your neck.
>You can feel her. Her soft, feminine body, her warm breath brushing along your skin as she continues to nuzzle you. Hell, she even smells like paper.
“I- I thought I k-killed you,” you say, still in disbelief, even when all the evidence points to the contrary.
>She gives you a confused look for a moment, before letting out a genuine laugh. “Oh, no, silly Anon!” she says after managing to settle down. “No, I died in the explosion! Don't you remember? Or did you hit your head too hard?”
>This is a bit unsettling. She just told you she died, but she's here, sitting in your lap.
>Before you can voice your thought, however, another very disturbing one comes to mind.
“Wait... So if I didn't kill you, then who...?”
>An innocent, yet somehow very disturbing smile slowly spreads across her face. “I think you know who, Anon.”
>No.
>No.
>No damn way.
>”It's okay, though,” she says. She puts her hoof on your chest, softly nudging you downward. “Even if you didn't do it for me... I'm glad you did it. I'm proud of you, Anon.”
>Soon, you find yourself on your back, staring up into the mare's entrancing golden eyes. She smiles down at you. “Now, we can be together forever, Anon. You'll never be distracted with another mare again. Just us two, for all eternity.” Half-liddedly, she kisses you on the forehead. “All you have to do is go to sleep.”
>You find yourself growing very tired. The headache seems to have cleared up, and you suddenly feel very... happy. Content. Welcoming of whatever awaits you.
>”Sleep tight, my Anon.” She lies down next to you, snuggling up against you.
>”Sleep...”

Made by: Myself (Known as Derp in the Obsessed Pony Thread, aka Sneaky)
Thanks for the ride, OBT, it was fun! I may writefag more often, when I can.