My name is Concerta, but my few friends call me Connie. Well, my full name is actually Concerta Glissando, but I haven't gone by my last name for roughly four years now. I am a blank flank.
I know in my heart I don't expect anypony to really read this. I guess I'm writing this more for me than anything else. It helps just to sit here and drag this pen across the page and let the words fill it up.
Taking the time to write all this down is a little painful for me. I haven't been able to tell anypony about what happened to me. It's a little cliché, choosing to write it down, but I can't think of any other way to get these emotions out. I guess my teacher did teach me something about writing.
I don’t know why I keep talking about ponies reading this. It’s a diary entry, not a book. I guess I’ll just get to the story so when I read over this I don’t bore myself to death.
I guess it's easier to start from the beginning so you can understand more about me. Again, I'm bordering on clichés, but... it's much easier for me to tell it when I write down my back-story.
I lived in Canterlot when I was a little foal. My mother, Autumn Veil, disappeared before I was old enough to say her name. I was sent off to live at an orphanage, where I lived for three years. I learned how to talk, write and read within the dull gray walls.
I wasn't adopted as quickly as the caretakers thought I would be. In fact, I was the only pony left in the entire orphanage from the year I was brought in. When I started to give up hope, I was adopted by a single stallion by the name of Quick Silver.
Silver loved me and raised me as if I was his own foal. He wasn't rich, but he gave me a decent lifestyle. I came to love him and he loved me. We lived a happy life.
We lived in a small three room apartment in the outskirts of Canterlot. Silver provided me everything that I needed to survive, and then some. The two of us were never hungry, thirsty or poor when I was growing up.
I mention that because I want to remind myself of the good times. I had so much fun with Silver. He always spent all the time he had on me. In fact, I came to think of him as my actual dad. I don’t know who my real dad is, so I like to imagine that he was the one who helped give birth to me. It’s a lie, but one that brings warmth to me.
But not all things are ever meant to last. Quick Silver became involved in drugs, mainly when he found out his best friend died. I was turning seventeen, so I would be out of the house soon. Silver took that as a sign he could do whatever he wanted to and it wouldn't affect me. He went downhill and became involved in dangerous drug rings. After three months, he wound up becoming hooked on weed.
I didn't notice it at first. It started as him coming home at night stinking up the room. Soon it became him being sent home from work early. When he stopped buying food, I began getting nervous. After I took over the budget, I finally saw him smoking the foul plant in our living room. That was when it all clicked for me.
I would find it everywhere. He shoved it under the pillows, inside pots, even inside his little piggy jars. It was everywhere, permeating my life. He started bringing strange little jars home, which I wasn't allowed to touch.
However, after a while, he started bringing home mares and stallions. Who they were, I wasn't sure. Yet they always would give me this look. A look that made my body run cold. Every single one I met gave me that one.
The stallions never touched me. The mares never seemed interested in me. They would always go straight up to our bedroom, stay for a few hours, then leave with more money than they came with. What they did with my father, I don't know. Yet I wanted to find out.
Little did I know I was about to get that wish.
I was on the couch, reading a small book I’d gotten a few days earlier. I was completely immersed in my book, so I didn't hear the knocking at the door when it first began.
However, after several minutes of it, I assumed it was Silver coming home high as hell, so I ignored it at first. I called out that I would be there in a second.
They weren't having it. The three of them entered with a huge crash, shattering our door. I yelped and looked up, only to feel one of them magically hold me still. I was a pegasus, so I wasn't able to escape. The three advanced on me, surrounding me.
The first was deep orange and had a yellow mane. The other two were both black, one having a gray mane and the other magenta. Each of them had a cutie mark pertaining to hardware: a wrench, a drill, and a hammer, respectively.
The orange one walked up to me and spat in my face. He asked me where my father was. They referred to him as ‘Qui.’ I pleaded that I didn't know. That I had no idea who they were talking about. That I had absolutely no clue where he was.
The gray stallion called my bluff almost instantly and my head was pushed down against the couch. When my head was pulled back up, I could see every detail about the orange stallion: two small, green pupils, three freckles on each cheek, a scar running from his eye to his mouth, and a pointed snout.
Silver had left a day earlier. He said he was going to be back in a few days. Where he was now, I had no idea. I was informed through a note that was tapped awkwardly to the fridge.
The gray haired one laughed and he put a hoof down on my neck. The orange one bent down, putting face only an inch from mine. His breath carried the scent of weed and alcohol. I wasn't able to break myself away, and as such, I smelled it.
I knew that smell from when dad would come home, rambling on about having discovered how to get to new heights. It didn't take a genius to know he’d been drinking while doing weed. It was common knowledge not to drink and do drugs. It increased the high, yet would cause faster long term damage. These stallions probably wouldn't remember me tomorrow.
The other black stallion spanked my butt so hard, I screamed. The third stallion grabbed my face and he spat something into it. I struggled hard in the magical aura, yet I was trapped within it. I was their own. I couldn't escape.
The orange stallion leaned in and bit my ear. He breathed out a few words into it: He said that I was going to be a discount for my father.
It hardly took me three seconds before I knew what that meant. I screamed and jerked around violently, yet the magic still held me within its grasp.
The first black stallion laughed and he suddenly mounted my backside. The orange one mounted my face. The third stallion slipped underneath me and laid so he looking up at my head, pointed so he was going to push his hips… up.
I struggled. I wasn't able to think very clearly. I was hyperventilating. I screamed, kicked, tried to do anything to get away. The three simply just laughed.
The orange one started kissing me and he said to enjoy it. The two black ponies only grunted.
Then the white hot pain began. Then… I prefer not to tell.
That memory… it haunts me. It follows me, no matter where I go. I can’t do anything to escape my past. I am trapped by the three stallions, pinned to the couch.
I'm scared of what the future will bring. Sometimes, I find solace in the memories of the past. The fond memories. The memories that pull me in and give me the warm feeling in my chest that has deserted me for so many years.
Yet for some many years, I haven't had a memory I can look back fondly at. I've always been scared, deathly scared, of what the future will hold. I've been scared ever since that night.
I never saw my father again. I was left at home to mull over recent events for three weeks. By that point, I ran out of food and the city shut down our water supply. I had no choice but to gather up my things and leave.
I spent a few years living in small towns and making a living off of awkward jobs. Eventually, I overheard somepony about a weird town named Ponyville. Since I knew it was on the edge of Everfree, it wasn't too hard to find.
Now, I live in a little cottage in Ponyville. It’s… nice, if one could say that. Despite the fact it’s on the threshold of the most dangerous woodland in all of Equestria, the town is friendly and I managed to get a job helping sort packages at the post office.
There’s only one problem with me: I’m almost twenty, and I’m still a blank flank.
Normally, I wear a dress that covers it so that nopony can see it. Yet it still remains on my flank as a reminder of my worthlessness. I have never been able to free myself from the grip of being undefined.
All I can do is pray that I find it one day. Until then, I continue to go by Connie, holding myself together despite the fact my strings were used years ago.
I feel like all I am is the exact thing that they made me. I had no idea what to do. I still feel like part of me remains at that couch.
No matter what I do, I can’t escape that memory.
After all, I can’t escape the past.
