Flame Blackheart lived in a big house that was miles away from other ponies. If she were to scream, no pony would hear her. This makes one wonder; if no one can hear you scream, did you ever really scream at all? The only other pony living in the house was her father, Bladerunner Blackheart. According to the Equestrian government, Flame was home schooled by Bladerunner. However, this was not true at all. He never taught her anything. However, little Flame was far from uneducated. She had a full set of encyclopedias, the only source of entertainment she had. When her father wasn't home, or was asleep, she'd read them until her head hurt. She'd already read the the whole set. Twice. That was the only luxury she had. Other than that, she had next to nothing. All that was in her room was a worn mattress, and a couple of threadbare blankets. The encyclopedias were her only luxury.
You might be wondering now, what is this little filly's story? You see, she was abused. Her father was the cruelest stallion you will ever meet. Flame was essentially his personal punching bag. Not a single day went by when another scrape or bruise was added to the collection of marks on her small body, a tribute to her pain. Flame used to have a mother, but she doesn't remember her. The only hint that she had a mom was a photograph in a cracked frame that was kept in the living room, or at least Flame assumed she was her mother. The mare in the photograph had a light pink coat, a long black mane and a cutie mark of a large purple gem. She was smiling happily at the camera, and her periwinkle eyes were full of joy. "Why right does she have to be happy? How could she leave me here?", Flame used to think. On the back, written in neat cursive was 'Blitzen - 1997. Only a few years before Flame was born. Flame looked just like a smaller version of her, except her coat was a dull crimson, her eyes were empty and soulless, and she never, ever smiled. Her father was a pegasus, so at least he could never use magic to hurt Flame. But her magic didn't work yet, so there was no way she could protect herself.
She didn't know what happened to her mother. Did she die? Did she leave? Flame used to dream that her mother would come back and take her away from this hell, but that hope, along with all her other dreams, had died long ago. Despite everything she had learned from the encyclopedia, the were lots of other things she didn't know. She didn't what her dad did for a living, where he'd go eight hours a day. She didn't even really know much about the other ponies besides her and her father, except for what she'd read in her encyclopedias.
Once, a mare came to the house and said she was here to count them in the census. She had asked Flame where the bruises came from, and Flame had told her. But Bladerunner heard what Flame said, and had pushed her against the wall. Then he had grabbed the census mare and dragged her, kicking and screaming into the basement. Flame never saw the mare again, and she didn't know what happened to her. She wasn't allowed in the basement.
After he took the mare to basement, he sat Flame down in a chair. "I'm going to teach you to keep your mouth shut", he had said. He got out a needle and some black thread, and sewed Flame's mouth shut, with lots of little stitches. Since he didn't have the finesse of magic, the stitches were rather crude, but it got the job done. Flame couldn't open her mouth even a centimeter. But she didn't cry. She never cried when her dad hurt her, not anymore. She thought her tear ducts had dried up a while ago. Her mouth had stayed like that for four days, and she wasn't able to eat or drink water. Eventually she had gotten the thread loose and was able to pull it out.
A few months later was the day it all turned around. Flame had trotted down from her room, because usually it was about the time her father would come in the room and yell at her and beat for for having her head stuck in a book all day. But not today. She went into the kitchen, and there he was, lying on the cold tile floor with an empty bottle of applejack, his favorite liquor on its side next to him. Flame closed her eyes, and for some reason she thought of an article she had just read in the F book of the encyclopedia, about fire. All of the sudden, a thick orange beam of light shot from Flame's horn and hit the wooden wall in front of her, and her eyes burst open in shock. Flames began to spread from the spot where her magic had hit. But instead of trying to extinguish the flames, she just stared at them in a daze. But when the fire bit the tip of her hoof, she broke out of her reverie and realized that the whole kitchen was now on fire, and was licking at her father's flesh, yet he had not awoken. She quickly went outside and turned to look at the house. Flames were now coming out of the roof, and it was obvious the house was on fire.
As Flame watched the only place she had ever known burn to the ground, her eyes became wet for the first time in a long time. Part of it was from the smoke, but there was something else too. She felt something burning in her chest. She didn't know what it was, but it was better than the emptiness she had felt ever since she could remember. She licked her lips, feeling the tiny scars around her mouth with her tongue, and suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a white flash of light come from behind her. She looked behind her and looked at her flank. Finally, she had gotten her cutie mark, a black heart shrouded in flames. She felt a tugging at the corner of her mouth, and for the first time she actually smiled. Her smile grew wider and wider, until she burst into a manic laughter. With an unfamiliar sense of determination, she turned tail and ran from what had once been her home.
And she never looked back.
Author's Note
Just something I wrote in the middle of the night when a sudden bout of inspiration hit me. This my first ever story. Constructive criticism is welcome, hate is not.
