Three days... Scootaloo lay on the floor of the Cutie Mark Crusaders' clubhouse, her purple mane wildly strewn about her head. Her eyes were dull, missing their usual vigor and lust for life.She stared blankly at the wall, seeming to look through the wooden paneling and all that lay behind it. Three days... Her mind repeated this over and over. Three days ago... She closed her eyes, the gory scene replaying itself in her mind. Cutie Mark Crusaders Farmers... what a stupid idea... It hadn't been Scootaloo's idea, Applejack suggested that they help out, but it had been her idea to try to use the wheat thresher. Scootaloo shook her head, trying to break herself free from the stupor she had been in since it had happened. Her attempt was unsuccessful. Her stomach growled, momentarily reminding her that she hadn't eaten in days. She ignored the sound as best as she could, thinking of how nice it could be to fade away slowly, leaving behind only bones. A thud resounded behind Scootaloo, causing her to jump. She turned to see Sweetie Belle standing next to her, a large basket of apples sitting on Sweetie Belle's side opposite Scootaloo. Sweetie belle sat down on her haunches, coughing a bit.
"Didn't mean to disturb you." Sweetie Belle said quietly, her head hanging low. A small grunt was the only reply that came. Sweetie Belle kicked at the ground a bit with one of her front hooves. "I don't blame you."
Scootaloo looked over at Sweetie Belle. Her eyes were bloodshot, and she appeared to have gotten about as much sleep over the past few days as she had: none. Her mane, which was usually pristine, now lay askew, with hairs sticking out randomly, the frizzed look giving the impression that she'd just come through a windstorm. Her coat was matted under her eyes from crying, and all-in-all, she looked like hell.
"Mind if I stay here with you?" Sweetie Belle asked. Scootaloo nodded slowly. Sweetie Belle laid down where she was, placing an apple in front of her friend. "You should eat."
"I'm fine..." Scootaloo lied. "I'm... I'm just fine..." She was, of course, not at all fine. She doubted she'd ever be fine again. She wasn't even able to think anymore without her mind wandering to the events three days ago. She allowed a few tears to begin their slow descent down her cheeks. These were the first tears that had passed her eyes in all of her life... at least that she could remember. "I miss her..." Scootaloo spoke softly, her voice wavering.
"Me too..." Sweetie Belle frowned. She turned from Scootaloo to wipe her tears away. She coughed a bit, her throat dry and scratchy. She trembled with every breath she took. "The fu- the fu-... The service was very nice." Sweetie Belle couldn't bring herself to say the word that she wanted. As soon as she said that... it would become real. If she said that... Apple Bloom would really be dead. "I wish you would've gone..."
"I haven't left the clubhouse..." Scootaloo said quietly. "I can't leave the clubhouse."
"What about your parents?" Sweetie Belle asked, her voice, although young, portraying a wisdom well beyond her years. "They'll miss you."
"No they won't." Scootaloo said quietly. "Mom doesn't care and Dad's probably drunk."
"At least come to the barn with me while I check to see if Applejack's alright." Sweetie Belle said, trying to be strong for her friend. Her heart ached as she looked at Scootaloo, seeming to have given up on life. Sweetie Belle sighed when Scootaloo didn't answer. "In that case, I'll be right back." Why did she have to be the grown-up? She would have loved nothing more than to keep crying her eyes out, but no, she had to pretend she wasn't affected so her friend wouldn't feel bad. She stepped out the door, looking back at Scootaloo one more time, seeing that her friend was now back to her routine of staring at the wall. She sighed, beginning the walk back to the barn. Apple trees were all over, their fruit not picked although the leaves were beginning to brown. A few apples had fallen to the ground and begun rotting. Sweetie Belle couldn't help but to think of the strange parallels between these fruits and Scootaloo. Normally vibrant, these dull brown orbs now sat on the ground silently, waiting for their time to disappear completely from the world, just as her friend now silently waited to rot into oblivion. She shook her head a bit, not wanting to make herself more depressed than she already was. She sighed, stepping up to the barn. She slowly pushed the door open.
"Hello? Applejack?" Sweetie Belle called out. She stepped inside, tripping over a small footstool. She dusted herself off, looking curiously at the overturned stool. "Applejack?!" She called out again, more worried this time. She stepped on a large hat, the top depressing a bit under her hoof. She recognized the hat as Applejack's favorite. She looked all around, but saw nothing until she looked up. A rope was tied to one of the wooden rafters, the knotting precise and expertly done. Sweetie Belle's eyes followed the rope down to the spot where it met with what was suspended from it. An orange pony with three apples on her flank. Her tongue was sticking out of her mouth and her neck seemed to be bent to the side. Her eyes were bereft of life, and her face showed no emotion. Sweetie Belle slowly stepped back, gasping. "A-Applejack?" Her eyes began to fill with tears. "Applejack?!" She screamed. "Applejack?!"
