Scootaloo, a young filly, vibrant with the energy to play and try to earn her cutiemark, and also, a filly without parents. I know what you're thinking, what pony in their right mind would leave this poor filly to fend for herself in the world? Not any sane parent, that's for sure.
She loved three things in life, much like any other pony. Food, flying, or rather, attempting to fly, and friends... And maybe.... If she was lucky enough.... Love.
No, not that kind! This is the love and warmth only a parent or caretaker could give. A love that would show this young filly that she, truly, and honestly, was loved unconditionally. Sadly though, ever since her parents had passed on, not one single pony came to her aid.
Distant relatives could not be located, the orphanages couldn't hold her because of other foals constantly picking on her about her losing her parents. She would always run away, coming back to one place; Ponyville.
Now keep in mind that this young filly has friends, although the group is very small. Consisting of only two other fillies that had yet to obtain their cutiemarks, much like herself.
Oh the group was such a fun one! The three of them would go out and play at every chance they could get. Go on picnics to various places around town, get in trouble for wrecking things in an attempt to get their cutiemarks. It was quite amusing at times to see them all gallop off when one of their stunts failed and caused several ponies to start yelling at them.
Not so much fun as them getting in trouble, but the fact that they just wanted attention. Or rather, scootaloo wanted attention.
She wanted the warmth of a home, and a bed to call her own. Right now, she was sleeping quietly on the floor of the cutiemark crusaders clubhouse. Bundled up in several covers to ward off the night chill that crept through the small treehouse. Dreaming of the day that some pony would come along and save her, help her to see what it feels like to be loved once again.
Over the past several months I have watched silently along the sidelines. Watching this young filly experience heartache unlike any other.
I have heard many stories about the young filly from those who have had either heard the story from the sources, or done something similair themselves.
The young dear had begged many ponies to let her stay with them, or to give her something to fill her belly. When she was denied on almost every occasion, she would try to sneak into the ponies house during the night. Not so much as to find food and a place to sleep, but to offer something in return. She would quietly clean the ponys home, all the while, eating some of their food in exchange for her hard work. Once the morning rolled around, the ponies would come back into that area of their home upon waking up, only to see the young filly, passed out from exhaustion in a pile of food wrappers and juice boxes.
It was only the one spot that was still dirty, and the filly had worked so hard during the night only to fall asleep while cleaning. All of the stress from trying to find a place to call home and a family to love her, along with an empty belly, will do that to you.
Once the pony had awoken and found her though, they didn't ask questions. All they thought was that this filly broke into their home to steal food from them. Then, just as quickly, kicked her out the door and back into the street where no one would care to see her.
I watched this cycle go on and on for ages. As each day went on, I would see this poor filly get tossed aside so many times, and on many occasion she would latch onto the pony that was throwing her out, crying and begging for them to keep her safe, to love her and take care of her in her time of need. It eventually got to the point where those ponies would beat her until she had no choice but to let go and run, or limp away in defeat.
Over time, even her two friends began to play less and less with her. The fear of them being seen with her, causing them to believe that they themselves would experience those hardships as well, even though they both had families of their own.
A new week has begun, and this young filly is now limping badly down the street, causing many ponies to avoid her and get out of her path. Afraid they may catch some deadly disease from her battered and bruised body. She was no longer vibrant and full of energy, she was now, the walking dead. Her body severely malnourished, bruises and cuts adorned her frame like some pony from the great wars. Heavily limping along on three hooves as the fourth looked to have been broken at some point. She was now on her last limb, and ready to die.
Oh I can't tell you the sorrow I felt that night when I heard the scream from my bed. I was laying quietly, almost ready to fall asleep after a hard days work when I heard it. An ear splitting shriek of pain, and sorrow. I could tell right away that it was Scootaloo, and I feared the worst for her.
As I bolted from my bed and through the front door to my home, I heard another scream. It wasn't far from me, just a few houses down, and down the first alley that would start into the business complex side streets.
As I rounded the corner, I paused seeing several ponies running off from what they had just done. As I quickly made my way down the side street to where those ponies had run from, I saw the limp body of a young orange Pegasus. She was barely breathing. I could no long contain myself, so long had I ignored this wonderfully vibrant filly that was so full of life. So long had I ignored what she had been going through, afraid to lend a hoof in helping her out in some way, shape, or form.
As I slowly sat down next to her, I gently lifted her up into my arms, feeling her wince in pain as she shivered in fright and pain. Then, as I was about to put her down to ease her pain, her two little forehooves slowly pressed upward and gently wrapped around my neck, hugging me close to her frail body.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..... Please don't hurt me anymore..... I just want... A.... Home...." She spoke out softly as the wear and tear of life had finally brought her into unconsciousness.
I cried.... Long and hard.... Right there on the spot with that little filly in my arms. I poured my heart and soul out in droves, wailing into the night upon feeling this foals torment.
All she wanted was to be loved, to be safe and sound with some pony that could take care of her and to help her along when she needed a gentle hoof to show her the correct paths to take.
Now though, she was dieing, in my arms, and she would still ask for forgiveness, even from those who had just beaten her to within an inch of her life.
No....
I wouldn't stand for this any longer.
As gently as I could, I pulled the filly onto my back and slowly made my way to the hospital.
Several days have passed by since I had brought the filly to the hospital, and she still lay there asleep on her bed. The doctors didn't know why she hadn't awoken yet, but I had a pretty good feeling as to why.
Over those three days, I had taken off from work with the excuse that a loved one had been hurt, and I was tending to them. My workplace didn't mind, as it was rather slow this season since it was almost the middle of summer, and most ponies were out tending to their farms or homes.
What I was doing at the hospital though, was rather out of character for me. Every day I would come by the hospital as early as I could, and bring a toy along. I would bring a book from the local library, sit down next to the fillys bed, and read it out loud to her.
I wasn't much for portraying the dialogue of the characters, but I could tell that by simply reading the book, even if it was in a monotone, the filly would always listen intently.
The first night was a little shocking to me. As I was reading to her, I watched as tears slowly began to fall from her eyes and run silently down her cheeks. I could tell by her lip quiver that she was beyond happy at that moment. Having some pony she didn't know, there, and reading to her for the first time in years. One that actually showed some form of caring rather than hate.
But why didn't she open her eyes and let me know? I wouldn't find this out until the third night when I finished the last of the book I was reading to her.
As I was placing the book into my saddlebag, I heard a small sniffle escape the filly as she pretended to be asleep on her bed. I knew she was awake, so I decided to try and sway her into reality once more. I know what I said was a little mean, but it did work.
"Well Scootaloo, I'm leaving now." I paused for a moment seeing her flinch. "I need to head back home and get ready for work. As much as I would love to stay here and read to you more and more, I still have to work, and I've already taken three days off to be here with you. I'll check back in a couple days to see if you've awoken. Until then, rest easy little one."
As I was turning to head out the door, I was quickly bowled over by a crying and shaking filly. Her little forehooves wrapped tightly around my midsection, afraid that if she let go, I would be gone forever.
"No..... Please don't go.... I'm sorry......please don't go.... Don't leave me alone again." She sobbed loudly into my chest as we sat there on the floor.
"Why are you sorry?" I asked in surprise. "You don't have anything to be sorry for my dear. So don't think that you need to apologize for anything, alright?" I smiled softly to her seeing her eyes water even more as she cried into my chest again.
"Hey, Scootaloo." I began, causing her to flinch slightly. "You want to know something?" I asked seeing her nod. "I'm the one who is sorry here. I know that you've been through a lot of sadness and torment these past few months, but I ignored it because I thought things would eventually get better for you. I've heard the stories that have been gossiped around town, but I never wanted to believe any of them. As time went on after I moved here, I watched you wither into almost nothing. When I found you a few days ago, I brought you here, and I've stayed here with you since. I should have stallioned up and did what I should have done a long time ago." I meekly smiled to her as I watched her look up to me in fear and wonder.
"I should have offered you a place to stay when I knew you needed it. So now, I am going to offer it to yooooUUUUUUU," I managed to finish as she wrapped her arms around my neck crying loudly, sobbing yes over and over again. Telling me that she would do anything to be taken care of and loved like she had been oh so long ago.
Several months have passed since that day, and my new daughter is more vibrant and full of life than she has ever been. With her friends back, and they all three crusading to get their marks, along with getting into a lot of trouble at times, she would of course make me worry, but that would only cause me to love her even more as a daughter.
As we look into our past, we come to find many things that we would always ask ourselves, what if? What if we had done something different? What if I had stopped to help that lady cross the street. What if I had stopped to allow those children to cross the street? What if I had given a hoof full of bits to that homeless pony?
There will always be those what ifs that will haunt us throughout our lives. So don't give yourself a chance to say it. Do what you know feels right and help someone out if they need it. It can only be returned to you as help in the end.