Scootaloo opened her eyes. She lay motionless in bed. A thick green checkered blanket covered her, and her plain white ceiling fan spun very slowly above her, creating a slight breeze. It was still dark outside. That should make sense- Scootaloo had awoken at 2:37 in the morning. She only had four minutes, but that would still be enough time. She glanced over at her calendar. Although she couldn't see it because of the darkness, she knew that it was November 15th. As she closed her eyes, she remembered the terrible thoughts flowing through her head as she was reliving those horrific moments again.
She was only a foal- only about a pony year old, and already she has grown a strong love for her family. She is sitting by the fireplace, falling asleep. Curled up into a small orange, fuzzy ball against her mother's side, she quickly drifts into a deep sleep. She hears the crackling of the fire and the warmth of it, too. Scootaloo remembers the warmth of her mother, too. Always such a safe place- when she ever felt cold, or scared, or uneasy, Scootaloo knew her mother would be her refuge. She remembered the mare scooping her up in her wings, and slowly Scootaloo opened one eye to see that the fire had died down. Then she looks over at her father, who gives her a kiss, and her mother brings her into her bedroom. Scootaloo remembers the faint but lovely moment when her mother whispered, "Goodnight, my daughter." Scootaloo was almost already asleep, but still awake enough to hear those comforting words.
A tear fell from Scootaloo's right eye and down her cheek. She didn't open it, because as much as she was scared of these memories, she loved them.
Now she was four pony years old, and it was her birthday. She didn't have a lot of friends, but she did have a lot of family. Scootaloo had eaten cake, opened cards, and was now almost done opening her presents. She only had one more to go- and it was the biggest one. The small filly began to tear the side of the yellow and orange paper. Inside was a huge box. "What's in the box?" She remembered asking, and as with all faint memories, she forgot most of the dialog. Inside was her scooter. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Scootaloo remembered hugging her mom, and right then she felt like the most important filly in the whole world.
Now Scootaloo is ten pony years old. She is coming home from school. "Bye, Sweetie Belle! See ya' later, Apple Bloom!" She runs home, eager to tell her parents what she did today on her field trip. Rushing inside, Scootaloo sees that her mother is nowhere to be found, and that her father is in the living room going through papers. A worried look is on his face, and he isn't in the mood for talking. Scootaloo asks where her mother is, and her father doesn't tell her at first. After a few minuets he breaks the news. "She is at the hospital. She has stage four lung cancer, Scootaloo. We didn't know until now, and she only has about six months left." Her father says, his eyes closed.
"Six months left? Left until what?" Scootaloo remembers asking him back.
"Death", he replies.
Right then was the beginning of change for Scootaloo's life forever. Like the gears in a clock, the world began to fall down and grind into her like burdens. She hoped she was dreaming.
"No! This can't be right! Mom's almost never sick! How could she catch something like this?!" Scootaloo asked, frantic.
"You don't catch cancer, Scoot. You just have it. If it grows, it's a problem. Now please, I don't want to talk about it. I have to call the insurance company. Go play or something. Mom'll be alright, I'm sure." Her dad said, sounding scared, too.
Scootaloo opens both of her eyes immediately. Glaring at her alarm clock, it says 2:41 AM. This is it. Tears come falling from her eyes as she remembers the worst day of her life.
It has been about six months after they took Scootaloo's mom to the hospital, and it is November 15th. Scootaloo and her father, along with her loyal friend Rainbow Dash are sitting in the waiting room of the Ponyville Hospital. A nurse comes out, and she tells the three that they are allowed inside the room in which Scootaloo's mother is in. They slowly walk in, and she isn't doing good. She breathes very heavily, even though she has breathing tubes. Her eyes are slowly closing, but her almost grey irises and small pupils are still visible. She lay in the hospital like a statue. She chokes, but then continues breathing. She then rolls her eyes over to look at Scootaloo and her husband. "I... I lo...ove you... b...bo...oth. N...ever... f...f...forget... th...that." She said.
Scootaloo's eyes filled up with water. "No! You can't die! NO! MOM! MOM!" Scootaloo yelled, seeing her mom close her eyes.
"You had better go out into the waiting room," The nurse said.
"No! My mom- she needs me." Scootaloo said, unwilling to budge.
"Sc...scoo...t..." her mom began to say again, trying to open an eye.
"Mom? Mom?!" Scootaloo's whole face was red, and tears fell even faster down her cheeks.
"G... good... ni...night... my... dau... daugh... t... er." She said. She exhaled, and didn't breathe back in.
Scootaloo didn't want to, but she was forced to leave the room.
She buried her head into Rainbow Dash's shoulder. "Was I a good kid? I know I was bad, but not like some pink ponies I know. But why her? Couldn't somepony else die?" She asked her friend.
"Don't think that, Scootaloo." Rainbow Dash comforted.
"Here's the nurse." Her father said, holding back his tears.
"She's gone." They said.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Scootaloo screamed.
It was November 15th, 2:41 AM when she died.
Scootaloo opened her eyes. It was so real to her right now, like as if she was just there. But that was a year ago.
The nurse's cold, monotone message. "She's gone."
Her own pain becoming audible. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
Above all the horror, the sadness, the burdens, she could still hear the comforting voice ringing in her head of her mother saying, "Goodnight, my daughter.", almost as if she was really there telling her.
Author's Note
I cried as I wrote this. This story for now is going unedited and it would be a big help if you could point out any grammar mistakes. Thank you, and I hoped you enjoyed my story! 
