I mustn't cry. She dislikes tears. I mustn't run. Running only makes things worse. I mustn't speak. She hates the truth. I wish her friends knew of her atrocities, they'd haul her to the Alicorn Sisters in a second. The Pink One is always watching, even as I think these very thoughts. I can only hope she cannot read them. I often think about my journey into this living hell.
My birth name is Frederick Gumm, I used to live in Froggy Bottom Bog with my family. The Bog gave no respite to its inhabitants, it was a constant war for food and shelter. A harsh existence, yes; our family endured it together. Family legend says our great-grandfather fought off the hydra by himself, thus we lived better than most. Whether it's true or not doesn't really matter now. She found me during the worst famine the bog ever experienced. Out foraging beyond the bog, I captured some non-vigilant insects to feed my younger siblings. Along an old dirt path, I noticed a pink blur from the corner of my eye. Faint giggling echoed in the distance. I hastened to our nest, at least my siblings were fed that day. Hunger and the overbearing heat took its toll that night. I ventured out to a nearby pond to cool myself from the day's hunting, the world spun, and went black. I'm not really sure what happened, but I awoke to strange surroundings.
Structures comprised of wood and stone, filled with the creatures who visited the bog on occasion. Most of the time they brought frogs or such prey to feed us, none of them ever interacted with us. The Pink One was there, watching me as I came to. She wore a terrifyingly wide grin, as if I were her next meal.
"HI! I found you all sleeping out alone in Froggy Bottom Bog! I thought to myself, I said, Pinkie, what should we do about this poor little alligator? Oh yea, my name's Pinkie Pie! What's yours?"
Speech isn't something we normally shared with outsiders; I figured this was an extraordinary situation, "Well, if you really must know, strange one-"
"You can talk?! This. Is. AMAZING!" This 'Pinkie Pie' screamed, she zipped about the room in a flurry of explosive excitement.
I waited for her to calm down, which took surprisingly longer than anticipated. "I wish to be brought back to my family at-"
"But you're so thin! You look like you haven't eaten in days! I know just the thing-" She sprinted out a nearby opening. Carts of food rolled into the room, filling the air with an irresistible aroma. A stream trickled from my mouth, stomach clear on its intent of sating itself after days of starvation. Giant blue eyes filled my vision, "Sooooooo, what do you think? It looks good, huh? Doesn't it? It's all treats from here at Sugar Cube Corner!" She picked me up, and showed them all off. Each more delicious looking than the last. Instinct took over, and I ate in a fury. Entire carts were tossed aside while I satisfied my seemingly unstoppable hunger. I doubt there could've been a bigger mistake. All the cakes and sweets piled up to my eyeballs, it lulled me to a comforting haze. She saw me slowing down, and swooped in. My bloated half-conscious body was laid in a soft fluffy nest, where I promptly blacked out.
The following day looked bright and hopeful. For once I didn't feel the burden of my family's stomachs upon my shoulders. Pinkie Pie snuggled with me in the nest, she quietly snored while I watched her. 'Perhaps I could grow to like this', I thought. Free food, kind (if not a bit nutty) company, this could work. I decided not to run away at top speed from Pinkie Pie. The days melded together, we laughed, shared treats, she introduced me to her friends.
"Just be sure not to talk, ok? They'd probably freak out. While that'd be pretty funny-"
"Of course, Pinkie. I understand." I reassured her. We held a delightful gathering for her friends, she called it a 'picnic'. I stayed out of the commotion most of the time, I sat with nature as my companion. It felt like eons since I last felt nature's touch. My family. I completely forgot about them. Did they wonder where I was? Perhaps they thought me dead? I needed to tell them. The night after the picnic I asked if she could bring me back to my home. We were making treats called cupcakes in the kitchen, flour strewn about the room, our usual mess. I set the timer for the next batch, and decided to bring up my thoughts. "My family must be worried sick," I explained, "Would you bring me back to the bog?"
Her normally bouncy demeanor grew cold and still. Back turned to me, she set the cupcake tin down, leaning on the counter. "No." I'd never heard her sound such a way, nor use so few words. I quickly took my leave to our nest, thinking about what I might do next. By refusing to bring me back, did Pinkie ever want me to leave? This worried me, I decided on doing what I should've done that first night. While she and I slept in the nest, I slid from her snuggle and made my way to the exit. Each step I carefully placed, for the slightest creak might wake her. At this point, it didn't matter whether or not I knew my way back to the bog. Slipping down the stairs, I saw the giant blockade that led to my freedom. Too massive for myself, in my small stature, to open alone. It was constructed of fairly thin wood, so I decided my teeth would serve to burrow through. I bit into the door, carving a hole just large enough for me to slip under. I wasn't cautious of my noise level, and as I slid through my escape tunnel, pink towers obscured my sight of the town. A quick look up revealed these towers to belong to Pinkie Pie. No joy or mirth was visible anywhere about her. She wore an expression I can now only describe as one death itself might wear to its funeral. I charged between her legs, desperate to make my escape. A large pain shot through my tail, and I levitated in the air.
Her teeth dug further into me, "Help me, she's trying-" I started to scream, it only served to anger her. Suddenly I was arced through the air, and caught my last glimpse of freedom as it smashed me into blackness.
Time passed without my awareness of it, though after some time I finally came to. Constant aching pain throbbed through my entire body, the only comfort being Pinkie's nest I occupied once more. She shoved herself in my face once more, usual smile and joy abound, "I think I know what to call you now!" I looked at her inquisitively, at least as much as I could considering most of my face felt numb. She lifted a strange board to me, it reflected images. The reflection showed a battered copy of my visage. My left eye swollen shut, and one of my legs bent in a strange direction. Moving it excited torturous pain to erupt, forcing me to keep it inactive. Her free hoof extended to me, pulling my jaws open. While I moaned in pain, I saw what she defined as fit punishment. My wobbling tongue stood as the only present thing in my mouth. Blood dripped from a few crevices in my gums. "I'll call you Gummy! I like that name, it's really cute! Don't you think so?" I sat in shock, staring at my empty jaw. She threw the mirror, it shattered against a wall which thus shattered my own concentration. She gripped my jaw, pushing it slowly into itself. Sore tissue rubbed against itself, reopening weakly clotted wounds. It felt as though she raked my mouth with a well honed blade, each passing second the pain going deeper and deeper. "Don't you think so?" She repeated, the joy drained from her speech. I obeyed and nodded, tears dripped from my eyes. One wayward tear splashed on her hoof, and she gripped my jaw even tighter than before. A swift strike with her free hoof communicated her message. Tears were not tolerated, especially on her.
My recovery time felt eternal. She tried to recreate our previous experiences, I couldn't reciprocate. Each time I didn't respond, she hurt me. Flaying my scales was a favorite of hers. She also enjoyed reopening healing wounds, just to remind me that I'm not to recover from her lessons. Week after week passed and I learned to just play along. Playing dumb didn't get me hurt. After a while I was allowed to again socialize with others. Only her friends and their pets. Her version of socialization of course meant staring at them, occasionally making some brand of common 'animal noise'. It kept her happy, so that's what mattered.
On a picnic one day with the Pink One's blue friend, I think called Rainbow something-or-other, it doesn't matter anymore. The Pink One went off to gather some flowers as the other one flew in. Anxiety paralyzed me as I fought internally to say something. I'd meant to plead for help so she might get justice. I opened my mouth, ready to speak. Out the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a completely still pink figure. A quick glanced confirmed my fears. She stared deep hatred at me, poison enough to kill the hydra of the bog. Quickly my mouth obeyed and shut, and it didn't open for the rest of the picnic. That night she beat me within an inch of my life. She chanted merely one phrase over and over, "Gummy doesn't talk!" So many times it was repeated that night, it wedged in my mind. To this day I fear even looking at her friends. Where once there stood a chance at rescue now sits another blockade of fear.
After the 'friend fiasco' as she came to call it, she started 'lessons'. 'How to be Gummy', she named them. The main tenets, "Gummy doesn't talk," She said, "Gummy doesn't run, Gummy doesn't cry, Gummy is always happy to see his amazing owner Pinkie Pie." There is no Pinkie Pie to me, she died that night which now feels so far gone. Now there is only The Pink One. The Pink One always watches. I'm never alone with The Pink One. Even when I am in rooms alone, I see her staring at me through mirrors and windows. I must be Gummy to see the next day's sunrise. Gumm hasn't died, but won't be waking until Gummy is gone. I chant the tenets internally to continue drawing breath.
I mustn't cry, she hates tears. I mustn't run, that only makes things worse. I mustn't scream, for it is the only way she might know justice. One day I'll be fed up with being Gummy. Her laws can only hold for so long before I snap. One day I will scream to her friends about her evil deeds. The Pink One will be destroyed, and perhaps I as well. I do not fear death anymore, The Pink One dragged me through things much worse than petty death by now. I only fear one thing, and it scratches in the back of my mind. The Pink One always watches. The Pink One. Always Watches. Does The Pink One watch beyond death?
