A dark day

Scootaloo sighed as she rolled up to her house. The cobblestone was barely visible due to the weeds. The house itself was worse, the windows were cracked or blacked out by cardboard. The once beautiful white door was brown with dirt. The sides were covered in ivy of all sorts. The grass was over grown and the flower beds held old withered plants. Scootaloo has never seen the house look nice. She parked her trusty old blue scooter under the big oak in her back yard, the grass in the back was worse than in he front. It was like a jungle. She slowly walked up to the back door. The front has been broken since before she could remember. She creeped in, quieter than a mouse. The piles of garbage was something she was used to. Seeing the rats and bugs was normal. Feeling the filthy carpet beneath her hoofs was a feeling only other people would feel. It just felt normal. The smell was something your nose got used to after a while, it stunk of rotted fruits and vegetables. Stale milk and dead rats. It was disgusting. She tip toed up the stairs, trying ever so quietly not to let him know, because if he knew it wouldn't end well for her. She knew what it was called now, foal abuse. When she was a part of the CMC, before she got her cutie mark she just thought it was punishment for being bad. That's not how it was. She got beat for things she didn't even do, things she had no power over. She walked as slow as possible. Praying to Celestia that she wouldn't step on one of the creaky floor boards. It was no use the old brown floor was not being nice today.

"Scootaloo! Get down here!" His voice boomed, his words were slurred. She could hear the bottle falling to the floor as he stood up. She froze.
"Coming." She said, it was barely a whisper. She turned around ready to get we punishment for walking. She flew down the stairs. Eager to get it over with. The big male unicorn waiting at the bottom of the stairs was a pig. His brown coat and purple mane were tangled and matted from the sweat and filth. He was wobbly from the excessive amounts of booze he has consumed.
"Yes father?" She had to speak to him like that. He needed to feel important.
"You woke me up!" He yelled in her face. His breath was sour smelling and made her nose wrinkle. She shivered in worry. The pain was always unbearable. The lumps and cuts were always hard put up with. 'It was my scooter,' she always answered. It's the perfect cover up.
"I'm sorry father." She said starring at his grey eyes. They were full of pure hate.
"Your going to pay," he paused thinking of a punishment suitable. Scootaloo wasn't prepared for it. She was ready for the pole, the belt, the knife and lighter. His new punishment was one Scootaloo would never forget.

He licked his lips in temptation. She looked just like 'her' in his eyes. Her muscular orange body, her strong wings. She was beautiful. She had scars and bruises from her scooter, just like her mother always did from flying. She even wore her mane he same way. He smiled again pushing her up against a wall. His sour breath tickled her neck, it sent shivers of worry all over her body. Her eyes welded up with tears as he used his magic to carry her to his sleeping area, the filthy brown couch. The bottles were all empty and broken from throwing them against the walls or at Scootaloo. The once white walls still had random dried blood splotches all around the picture frames of her father and a cut out mare. They were all crooked and cracked. He placed her on the couch, his head hurt, he hates magic. "You look just like her you know? It's too bad you can never see her." He said liking her neck with his sandpaper like tung.
"Father please stop," she said between sobs. He shook his head with a animist ear smile. She was going to get it. For a stallion to have lived with only his hoof for fourteen years was unacceptable. He needed this even if it was from his daughter. He pulled her mouth close go his, she wiggled away from his grasp. He levitated the heavy metal pole he always had around him ad snaked her right hoof with it, hard. The cracking of the bone made Scootaloo cry even harder. She pleaded and begged but her kept hitting her. She coughed up blood all over the grey carpet.
"Your going to cooperate. Little filly." He said placing the pole beside her limp body. She was breathing heavily tears were rolling from her eyes.
"Yes father." She replied sitting as upright as possible. Her vision was speckled black and she had trouble consecrating. She could see her fathers face, his greasy hair, his cold grey eyes then everything went black.

She woke up in a pool of blood and white stuff. She knew exactly what it was. She could barley stand, her head was spinning, she had a gash on her flank right beside her cutie mark. A wheel with a lightning bolt and wings. Her nose had dried blood on it and her mouth tasted like rust. Her vagina was in pain. She felt dirty. Her father was on the couch sleeping like nothing happened. She got up not making a sound and staggered to the door. She didn't care were she went as long as it wasn't here. She grabbed her scooter still propped on the tree. She wanted to disappear. Her vision was getting worse, due to the rain. She flapped her sore wings as fast as possible. Going to the closest place possible. Rarity's boutique. The rain seemed to clean out her wounds. Making her feel cold and sick. She had to stop to puke. She couldn't stop gagging, letting her lunch fall into the muddy puddle.
"Rainbow Dash!" She yelled wanting her adopted sister. She laid down beside her lunch and cried for Rainbow Dash, but just like everypony else. She didn't come.