Scootaloo, with her bright orange fur and boyish mane, was the first pony I saw. She looked... surprised, to say the least. Disgusted? Speechless? I don't know. Next to her was Apple Bloom, giving me a look of, well, hatred. Pure, raw, country disdain. I shifted my gaze quickly, and saw a light pink pony with eyes filled with a familiar, yet amplified, unkindness.

Diamond Tiara was staring at me.

She looked at me like I was an alien from some distant planet. That's where I wanted to be-- a distant planet. Far away, where deadly gas could kill me or the low oxygen would suffocate me or the low gravity would shoot me off into space where my head would implode. I can see images of the incident again, and I stop imagining these horrible things.
Mrs. Trotter (which was written on her name tag) walked up to me with a look of obvious nervousness in her eyes. Adults shouldn't be nervous of little foals just going into middle school.

But this foal committed a second-degree murder. Who wouldn't be nervous, or scared, or even DISGUSTED by me?!

Then I remember it wasn't me.

Sometimes I forget that. I forget how the evil inside me controlled me and tore apart a living pony. But if it's inside me, isn't it me?

Glancing at the ebony-coloured magic suppressor around my horn, the teacher said "Miss Belle... you're late. Take your seat next to Miss Tiara and do as I say." I hurriedly jog to my seat and slide in, and busy myself with getting a piece of paper and a pencil out of my saddlebags. I pretend to not be able to find a pencil as I hear my peers edge their desks away from my spot. In the corner of my eye, I can see them all boring their curious eyes into the side of my head.

Why is she here?
Why isn't she in jail?
She's dangerous!
She'll kill us all!

I hear these whispers pass from mouth to ear around me. They think I cannot hear how their half-hearted attempts at veiling their words fail. I wonder if they know how reluctant I am to retaliate in any way. If I do, I would surely be punished tremendously. But is this not punishment enough? The voices ruined my family name, left my sister's business in shambles, and now the entire world wants me as dead as Tru--

I think I should finish writing instead of finishing that sentence.

It's almost time for lunch. The whispers have died down, but harassment doesn't. I feel a wadded up piece of paper hit me in the back and fall on the floor. Picking it up, I open it and read what it says.

It's a drawing of me standing in the middle of a massacre, with a dopey evil smile on my doodled face. A small note off to the corner says Monster! in bad writing, from an Earth pony.

As I realize it's Applebloom, I get hit with another. It's another drawing-- me locked up in a zoo cage, with a sign that says WILD BEAST in capital letters. That one's from Scootaloo.

A third one hit's me, this time on my shoulder. I sigh inwardly and open it, expecting another stupid drawing of me.

But it isn't.

It's a detailed drawing of me being stabbed by a zombie. The zombie's chest and abdomen are cut open, with dripping organs hanging out. Some are on the ground. It has no eyes, only empty, bleeding pits. Zigzagging cuts are everywhere on the figure. The zombie has curly brown hair.

That zombie is Truffle Shuffle.

Author's Note

Finally, it's done!

If it's short, i'm sorry, I've been trying to finish this chapter for a while.
This next chapter will probably go deeper into how Sweetie's peers treat her in general, inside and outside of school. Or should it go into Rarity's perspective? Comment and tell me!

Oh yeah, I'd also like to thank this dude for the Diamond Tiara plot.