It all started when mom was pregnant with you, sis.
Ever considered the age difference between you, me and your sister? You’re nineteen years younger than me and seventeen younger than Applejack. This is why I made you take that promise; you’re an unwanted accident. Don’t get me wrong, none of us ever thought less of you because of it. Mom loved you maybe a little more than the rest of us, but dad…

…Dad was different story. He hated you, just plainly hated you, even before you were born. Heck, he wasn’t even there to see it; I had to help mom bring you into this world. He never thought of you as a pony, let alone his own daughter. It’s just, he just turned into that, that hollow jar of hate. He was looking forwards to seeing me and Applejack move out and a long retirement, but now he had a new mouth to feed. He thought of you as just a dream smasher. He blames you for ruining everything with his life.

We all knew it was there, but we kinda just ignored it. He stopped helping mom at our farm and got a construction job at the other side of town. He worked all day, and only came home to sleep. He’d wake up before anypony else, worked, came back after we were all asleep, and it all start over again, day in and day out. He loved mom, and he wasn’t going to just leave her. Still, after a few weeks, things just got worse. He started drinking, he started getting in trouble with the local guard. For mom’s sake, he’d never lay a hoof on any of us, not even you. So he just kept digging a hole into himself with the hate and depression. It wasn’t long before that hole started to become his grave.

Me an’ Applejack were cleaning the house, you were young, just weeks old, still feeding off of mama. It started out like an ordinary day, doing farm chores, bucking apples, that kind of thing, but I’ll never forget that evening….

***

A mare lay atop the soft living room carpet, in front of the warm, blazing fireplace of her farmstead home. Old as it may be, the house was a source of pride for her. She inherited it and the farm from her mother. Books, scratches, portraits, and damages were all valuable to her. Whether by destruction for addition, every detail of her house brought an unparalleled uniqueness and often a few memories. She wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Well, maybe one thing. As the mare relaxed by the fire, a warm blanket and her open book, a small, yellow buddle of joy enjoyed a natural evening meal. Every minute, the mare would look up from her book, lift her blanket and inspect her crotch, as if to check that her newest foal was still there by her side, safe from the world. The foal slowly, but endlessly sucked and bit of the pink teat, sipping the sweet milk from her mother. It hurt bit, but not like real pain at all. It was assuring, really, like another sense to tell her the foal is still well and by her side. The mother loved her foal no matter what anypony else would think, not even her ignorant husband.

Loud, thunderous bangs filled the still farmhouse. Without looking or getting up from her place, the mother alright knew just who it was.

“Applejack, come here please!” She called out.

Light stomping could herd in the other rooms as the young, orange mare raced to her mother’s side, “Yes mama,” she replied, “What is it?”

The mother pulled her blanket off her, and slowly pulled the foal from her source of drink. The foal immediately started to whine. The mother quickly swaddled the foal in the old blanket, gently rubbing the soft tummy and whispering “Shh shh shh”. In mere seconds, the foal was calm and ready to sleep.

She lifted the swaddled foal within her muzzle and gave it to Applejack, “Take care of her; you know how your father is.”

“MmHmm,” was the only reply available now that Applejack’s muzzle was more concerned with holding a foal than forming any speech. She quickly left the room and fled to the kitchen, careful not to swing the foal too much.

As Applejack left, the knocking on the door sounded again, this time louder and more violent. The mother closed her book ad kicked it aside before getting up to answer the door for her idiot husband. To nopony’s surprise, his condition was less than formal. His short-cut mane was messy, greasy, ragged, and flung every-which-way. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, held up by tired, dark rings. He smelled of filth, dirt, and booze, giving little mystery as to the contents of the unmarked bottle floating around him within a magic aura.

Neither pony was all to happy to see the other. No even greeting’s were exchanged; once it was a show that the two loved and understood each other so much that none were needed, but now it was the claws of hate reaching just beyond the cages held within each of them. Instead, the mare said, with an unamused look, “Lose you keys again?”

“Shut up…” was the stallion’s simple response. His voice was slurred and aggravated, giving hint that he might be more delusional that his appearance foretold. He forced his was inside, pushing the mare.

Now that he was inside, the mare closed the door behind him. She said, “Well you’re home early. Anything happen?”

The stallion grunted and took another swing of his bottle before saying, “Nothin’ really. We got done with the roof early, so boss said we can go home.” He turned his head side to side, as if looking for something. “The little shit better not wake me up again.”

The mare’s brows angled in frustration, “That little shit is our daughter whether you like it or not.”

The stallion returned the gesture, “I never wanted her and you know it. You should’ve told me you forgot the pill.”

The mare mumbled to herself, “I did tell you not to go in that way…”

The stallion turned his attention to his wife. He stepped closer and lowered his head, effectively glaring at her, “What did you say?”

The mare paused for a second before slamming her hoof on the floor and shouting, “I said it’s a big surprise you made anything with that limp little dick of yours!”

The stallion smashed his forehead on the mare in a sudden fit of rage. ”Limp Little Dick?!” he cried out as his fell from the impact unto the floor. “I’ll show you a limp little dick!” His horn glowed as latched onto his wife’s hooves with an arcane grip. The mare was forced on her back, but she fought away at her husband none the less. The struggling and the booze-poisoned brain made it difficult for the stallion to keep multiple grips on the mare.

The stallion stepped forward, ready to prove his point, only to be bucked in the muzzle by his wife. The impact caused him to lose what little focus he had and drop both the spell and his bottle. The bottle flew across the room, not breaking, but still spilling some of the stiff drink it held. The stallion returned his attention to his wife, now angrier than ever.

The mare tried to flip herself around and get up, but the stallion reactivated his magic, this time turning the aura to surround the mare’s throat. The spell squeezed tight and constricted breathing. The mare gasped and wheezed, trying to bring precious air into her lungs.

The stallion violently reared up, and as he did, the mare within his grasp was lifted completely off the ground by her throat. He spun a little on his rear legs, pulling the mare to the side, and when he dropped back down on all fours, he slammed the mare into the wall just above the fireplace. The mare’s head smashed and shook a small wooden shelf, knocking over small portraits and sending small, delicate decorations to their dooms via shattering against the floor. Despite any injury, the mare continued to thrash and resist the attack, all the while keeping herself from swinging too much les her tail becomes ablaze by the still active fire.

The mare could do little while the stallion refocused his magic and forced her rear legs apart, but the stallion did not take advantage of her as he previously intended. After one quick glace at her equine breasts, he looked back into her face. “You were just feeding her, weren’t you?”

The mare made no response as she continued to struggle for breath.

”Weren’t you?!!” The stallion yelled.

After a few seconds of snatching and grasping for air, the mare replied, her voice harsh and barely audible, “D-don’t you dare… t-touch her.”

“Touch her? … heheehee…” The stallion started to giggle.

He took one deep breath and his giggled turned to full, maniacal laughter, “HAHaahahaa! Touch her?! I bucking made it; I get to do whatever I want with it! Hahaa, that thing is as much mine as my mane; if I don’t like it, I should just get rid of it!” His disturbing laughter died down, “Hehehee, You know, why haven’t I thought of this before?”

The stallion released his wife from his magical grip, but not before throwing her clear across the room. She landed with a busing thud, but now that her windpipe was unobstructed, she could talk much more clearly now. “Leave her out of this. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

The stallion smiled almost ear to ear as he nearly stumbled while walking a little closer to the mare. “Oh, but that’s were your wrong dreary; little shit’s got everything to do with this. But you don’t have to worry anymore, honey, I’ll make things just he way they’ve been before.”

The station walked without balance towards the kitchen, picking up his bottle within an arcane glow in the process. “So where is little shit anyway?” he called out as he opened to door.

To his surprise, the search was over quicker than I begun. In the far end of the kitchen, his daughter held the little thing in a blanket. Her body shivered and her eyes swelled, almost on the verge of tears. And to the stallions surprise as well, his red-coated sun was here to, but he did not shiver in fear like his sister. Instead, he immediately got up and marched to the stallion till their muzzles were only inches apart. His brows were angled, and furious.

“Just walk away, dad,” Macintosh said, “You’re drunk; don’t let this get any worse than it already is.”

“Well looks who’s telling who what to do. Is it that day already? The day when the boy things he’s all grown up, and needs his flank-kicked to remember his place in this house, is that it boy?!”

Both ponies moved close to each other, closing the gap between them and pushing each other muzzle to muzzle. They said nothing for several long seconds. The silence was only broken by the sound of the stallions rapidly charging horn. Mac had little time to think, let alone react. The spell dispersed in a heavy wave of force, sending Mac flying across the room, smashing into one of the upper cabinets with his back. He held his screams between clenched teeth as wooden bits, plates, cups, and all matter of dishes scattered unto and littered the kitchen floor. Gravity took no delay in bringing his body back down, but he made no further movements, voluntary or otherwise.

The stallion returned his attention to both is frightened daughters. He reached out with his magic and grabbed the foal. Applejack sat on her haunches, holding her infant sister with both forelegs and her muzzle, desperate to keep her safe from her own father.

“Applejack,” The stallion called out, “Let go of it!”

They tugged away at he foal for several seconds; Applejack held on as best she could, but her father’s drunken magic was stronger than her grip. The foal slid out of her blanket, away from her sister’s guard. As the foal slid away, Applejack tried to rush out and reach for her again, but she fell to the ground, unable to move. Her entire body glowed in magic and all her muscles felt like heavy lead.

Applejack could only watch as the wailing foal floated to the stallion’s hooves. He placed her on the ground and used his magic to pull a large kitchen knife out of a nearby draw. He lifted the life high above. His eyes looked so eager, so ready, like this was the best moment of his life. He was happy about what he was going to do. He found joy in murdering his foal daughter.

Time seemed to painfully slow down for this very moment.

I’ll make everything the way it was before; I’ll have my happy family back, without you…

...

NOOOOOO!!!!

Author's Note

Got one more chapter...

Hope you enjoyed so far...