A Different Shade of Red

Cold, dark, and lonely. The first three are always in effect, the latter, not so permanent. The air was always chilly here. Not one time in years could I remember feeling the warm sun on my fur, or even the warmth of another body. Another countless shiver racked my body, shaking the chilly metal chains that held me from the ground.

Thinking of the sun, it had been years since I’ve seen its beautiful rays, or basked in its light. The room was always dim with the same dull gray stone. Light couldn’t penetrate these walls so I could never tell whether it was day or night. When I was first brought here, I remembered a desert. My only indication of day or night was when my breath would become visible in the cold desert night. If light could illuminate this room, I would see myself hanging mere inches from the ground. I would see the color of my cream fur stained with my own blood. I would see my left wing pinned to the wall after it had been ripped from my body. I would be able to see the stub it left behind on my back. What I would be able to see in the mirror staring back, would be a mare that had lost all hope and will to live.

Alone. These were the good times. Solitude was my only safety. Whenever they were around, I was beaten. Day after day, months, and years. The only thing I could look forward to was sleep. Sleep was the only time I could truly be alone. There was a time that I remembered being terrified of the darkness and uncertainty brought by sleep, but now it was a comfort.

Everything was quiet; the only noise was of my own ragged inhaling and exhaling. Silence, was another comfort, a reminder that I was alone for the time being. I concentrated my senses into just my hearing. The stench in this place was unbearable. The smell of blood, tears, sweat, and rotting flesh. Over the years my sense of smell became close to nothing, but when we lose one sense, often times the others are heightened. I could make out the faint sound of voices. Squawking, always squawking. Every griffin had the same annoying voice.

I closed my eyes and heard footsteps, they were coming. Their steps sounded different from a pony’s. They were heavier, more intimidating. I took in a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for the beating to come. Every time it was the same. The ritual started with insults.

“Morning bitch,” the one I knew as Lieutenant spoke. The ritual had begun. Of all the griffins, it had to be him. The way I could tell him apart from the other griffins was because of his title and the pink scar trailing down the right side of his face. Of all the beatings, his would last longer, hurt more, and leave the most scars. I did not answer him when he spoke. One of the first things that I had learned was to never speak. After that I learned to never make a sound of any kind. He stepped in the room with me and began to circle like a shark. I did not make eye contact, I did not move. I did nothing to acknowledge his presence.

“I said ‘morning bitch’,” the lieutenant repeated. I just kept my gaze locked to the ground. I heard his wings flair and out of and in the corner of my eye I noticed his claw extending into the air. I closed my eyes. Not a moment later he swiped his claw across my face. My left cheek burned, but I didn’t make a sound. He circled again. I watched him in the mirror and he ran his claw down my exposed stomach, waiting for a reaction.

“Lieutenant, you’re needed,” a voice sounded from the hallway.

“I’ll be back tomorrow you useless sack of meat,” the Lieutenant snarled and followed the other griffin.

I released a held breath as the door closed; lucky our session had been cut short. Dampness ran down my left cheek, but not from any crying. I rubbed my cheek against my foreleg and three lines of blood were left in my fur.

Tomorrow? Was it already that late in the day? He had just told me it was morning though. Maybe he wasn’t planning on coming back this day to continue, but none of that really mattered. Every day just blurred together into one mixed mess of blood and bruises. I closed my eyes and let the comforting void of darkness consume me.

* * *

This day I was jolted awake by cold water being sprayed in my face. I gasped and fought for air as the liquid was constantly being forced down my throat. If the icy grip of the water wasn’t bad enough, the chains that held me in the air would dig further into my skin as I squirmed. After another few agonizing moments, the noise of running water was cut off and the sound of laughter took its place.

“Bath time you filthy animal.” The voice chuckled. Bath indeed. Here the bathwater was either two temperatures, freezing cold or scalding hot. Today was the former’s turn. After a few minutes the warmth of the air stopped my shivering. Must be daytime.

I then heard the spray of water and the laughter started again in the distance. I was not the only pony here. My village, I can’t even remember the name, boarded the griffin lands. Being the territorial creatures they were, violence was always on everypony’s mind. Treaty after treaty was signed and approved, but every time a loop hole was found and another treaty was written up. One night I was taken from my home. I remember hearing a sound in the house like a surprised gasp. When I got up to investigate a large creature scoped me off the ground and held my mouth shut. I tried again and again to scream, but the claw kept applying pressure to my mouth until in dug into my cheeks. All around me other fillies and colts were being taken from their homes by similar creatures.

Later I learned that these creatures were griffins and that we were being taken to an old prisoner camp, hence the gray stone walls and chains. As I mentioned before, the first thing everypony learned was not to talk. Those who would not stop were taken away and never returned. Next everypony learned not to make a sound. Laughing, crying, or screaming, anypony that made too much noise was carried away and never seen again or beaten to an inch of their life.

I don’t know exactly how many of us were taken and I don’t know how many are left, what I do know is that our numbers diminished significantly. Just a short time ago I could remember hearing the ragged breath of many others surrounding me, as if each room held a pony against their will. In the course of just a few weeks I was lucky to hear anypony besides myself.

“Boss needs another one, take this bastard,” I heard the Lieutenant command. I had heard of the ‘boss’ before. The griffins that spoke of him regarded him as a leader and revolutionary. Day after day I could listen from my room and hear the other griffins speak of ponies living too close to their lands. Their opinion of ponies was less than dirt and their opinion of our princess was even less. They never stopped talking about making an attack on Equestria, but always complained about never having enough numbers or how their weapons couldn’t counter a unicorn’s magic.

A choked gasp broke my thoughts and I could hear a body scraping against the stone floor. Then I got to see. The griffin that was in charge of ‘bath time’ walked by the doorway holding a chain. After he passed, a dark blue unicorn with a light blue mane was drug behind him. I only got a small glance, but I could tell he was in the same condition as I, if not worse. His coat was covered in blood, most dried and some fresh. Cuts and scars decorated his body and his cutie mark was just a mess of torn flesh, like the griffins had removed it.

“Hey bitch! How’s it hangin’?” a voice sounded, bringing me out of my stupor. The Lieutenant, he must have smelt my fear. He advance quickly and examined his handy work from the day before.

“You see that piece of filth? We’re gonna kill him. That might be you tomorrow,” he informed me. Kill him? For what? He’s been down the hall from me as long as I could remember and he’s never made a peep. Where the griffins just so bored that they are going to resort to killing the rest of us one by one?

A strike to my left cheek broke my thoughts. I let out a yelp of surprise. The lieutenant’s ears perked up and a look of joy slowly crept over his face. I know what happens now, he’ll use the noise I made as an excuse to “teach” me to be quiet.

“Yo, what have we told you ‘bout makin’ noise?” he spoke and lifted my chin up with his claw.

“Whatever, I could use a little work out,” he replied to himself. Not a second later a balled fist connected with my stomach. I assumed he was trying to surprise me again, but this time I was prepared and held down any vocal reactions. The Lieutenant let out an agitated sigh and struck again, this time connecting with my right side. After years of abuse like this, I had gained a high tolerance to pain. His beatings were tough, but I only had to last until he got bored.

“Oh c’mon,” the lieutenant sighed, “I’ve wanted to kill ya myself for a while, so let’s make this easy.”

He then walked around behind me. I felt a claw caress my right wing and my blood went cold. I glanced into the mirror in front of me and I could see myself visibly trembling. In the same mirror the Lieutenant smirked and placed his other claw on my wing. I shut both my eyes and felt the Lieutenant extent my wing to its full length. Then he started to bend it further. The pain started as a dull throbbing, a warning. The Lieutenant bent my wing even further and a sharp pain shot through my body, but I managed to keep my mouth shut.

“Just scream already! Yell, cry, wail!” The lieutenant shouted from behind me. I can’t. I won’t.

A sickening crack echoed through the room.

Fierce pain exploded thorough my body. I’ve had a wing broken before, proof of that was my other wind nailed upon the wall. Even so, that did not prepare me for the pain that racked my body. I was able to bite my tongue and repress any screams of agony. My eyesight blurred and soon the rest of my senses went numb. The next thing I remembered was a light tap on my cheek. As my senses returned to me, the light tapping became a strong strike.

My breathing was ragged and choked with saliva. I could not feel my wing anymore, but a glance at the mirror confirmed that it was still attached to my body. I hung my head and concentrated on slowing my breathing. The Lieutenant cackled to himself before speaking.

“Screw it, no one’s around,” He said and wrapped his claws around my throat. Instantly my airway was cut in half. I panicked and struggled against his grasp. The lieutenant then tightened his grip until I could no longer breathe. I kicked my legs and twisted in his grasp, but to no avail. My sight began to blur again. Asphyxiation started to set in and my vision slowly faded to black.

At first I thought I had passed out, or maybe even died. There was no grim reaper. No void. No Heaven. No Hell. The only thing I could feel was coldness starting at the bottom of my hooves and slowly working up my legs. I reached out a hoof, but there was no resistance. Nothing like water, air, or even gravity slowing me down.

The next instant I was conscious again and I was screaming. My sense of touch returned next and I could feel something running through my mane.

“Easy girl. Everything’s alright. Hush,” a voice cooed in my ear. I turned my head to see another griffin, running his claw through my mane. The first thing I noticed was that this griffin was larger than the others and his face carried the weight of an elder. I waited and waited as he continued to reassure me that everything was alright. Waiting for a strike, cut, or lashing, but it never came.

“Lieutenant, just what was going on here?” The griffin sighed. The Lieutenant then responded in a way I had never seen before. He did not respond at all, he just stood frozen as if trying to form an excuse.

“Well!?” The griffin demanded, causing both the Lieutenant and I to flinch.

“She was… screaming. I was just enforcing the rules,” the Lieutenant mumbled.

“Is that right? I didn’t hear any screaming. Least not until I found you strangling her.”

“Dad I-“ Dad?

“Hold your tongue, hatchling, and get out of my sight.”

And with that, the Lieutenant scurried away with his tail between his legs. This griffin must be important, but now what?

“The Lieutenant Colonel, the worm I decide to call my son,” the griffin explained. I did not respond. The Lieutenant Colonel’s father circled me, inspecting me.

“Rendered wing, broken wing, choke marks around your neck, and I assume most of these cuts and bruises are from him,” he pondered aloud. He was right, but I still did not respond.

“It’s alright, you can speak,” he announced. I shook my head from side to side. That’s what the others always said, but part of me believed him. He looked like a battle toughened griffin, even more so than the other griffins that patrolled this place, but there was a gentle side to him. Or maybe I’m just being naïve. Nevertheless, I felt far from being comfortable enough to speak.

“Very well,” he started, “I need you to stay alive until tomorrow, alright? Be strong for me now.”

As he left my mind raced with activity. Stay alive until tomorrow? Was I next to die? Was I going to be drug away like the dark blue unicorn I saw earlier? What happened to him?

I ran these questions through my head again and again, but only came up with more questions. I let out a deep sigh and instinctively panicked. After a few moments of silence passed I let out a held breath, lucky that no griffins were around to hear it.

What felt like an eternity later, the familiar pull of sleep tugged at my mind. I did not want to sleep. For all the time I’ve spent in this horrible place, this was the one time I refused to give in. Sleep was my only comfort besides solitude. In a way sleep was better than solitude. Unconscious to the world and myself, I did not have to think, feel pain, or worry. To me, when I slept, I ceased to exist. It was the only time that I was untouchable. One side of my mind told me to stay awake and cherish the rest of my life. The other side said what life?

The darkness approached quickly. This time, rather than comfort, the darkness brought fear.

* * *

I was awaken by a scratching sound in my ear. My eyes slowly flickered to life and I found myself being drug along the ground. The chain around my neck threatened to dig into my skin and the pressure was already cutting my air supply in half. I coughed and struggled to breathe, but the griffin pulling me paid no heed to my violent hacking.

From the edge of my vision I could see the griffin come to a metal door. He wasted no time shoving past and into the brilliant sunlight. Pure and unfiltered sunlight. I haven’t seen pure sunlight in more years than I could remember. The light burned my eyes and I instantly snapped them closed. My fur felt warm. Not the kind of warm I usually feel from pain corrupting my body, and not the kind of warm from a suffocating room cut off from the wind. This was warmth from the sun itself and it felt good.

The griffin pulling me came to a stop and I dared to open my eyes. I did not like what I saw. A plain pale concrete ground stretched out in every direction and three griffins, the Lieutenant, the one I assumed who was the ‘Boss’, and another griffin I did not recognize, stood before me. But that’s not what bothered me. Behind the three griffins was a vertical piece of concrete and strapped to it was the dark blue unicorn that was dragged off the day before. The unicorn was dead. It looked like his body was smashed by blunt force, like he had been beaten, but a griffin’s fist looked much too small for whatever had hit this unicorn.

The griffins wasted no time in removing the deceased unicorn from the piece of concrete. The Lieutenant then pulled on my chain, dragging me forward. He then lifted me off the ground and began to strap me to the concrete. Something was wrong; the Lieutenant wasn’t showing any violence. I had expected him to pull me up by the neck as he lifted me up, strike me across the face as he strapped me in, or harmed me in some way. He didn’t even bother to throw an insult at me. It just felt strange.

His face portrayed a scowl with the hint of a smirk. My guess was that he was forced not to act violent, but I would die today. That’s what the ‘Boss’ told me yesterday. Stay alive until tomorrow. To my own surprise, I didn’t panic. I couldn’t place my emotion, but I attributed it to calmness. I felt at ease. All these years of pain and anguish were finally going to stop. I imagined death would be painful, but at least I could finally rest after.

The griffins then started to walk away, leaving me strapped to the concrete. I watched in interest as they approached a contraption of sorts, about seventy yards away from where I was held. The thing was a long metal cylinder that sat on two metal wheels. The third griffin that I didn’t recognize began to examine the contraception as the Lieutenant lifted a metal ball out of a box and placed it inside the cylinder. The third griffin then pointed towards the sky and said something that the wind carried away before it could reach my ears. The Lieutenant nudged the thing to the left and pointed it skywards.

Next thing I know, my ears register a loud bang, like the sky had been split open. I looked around for anything out of the ordinary, but all I see is blue sky and sand. Not a moment after I had completed my thought, another noise split the air right next to me and an intense pain shot through my right hind leg. I tried to scream out in agony, but I couldn’t even gather my breath.

Once the pain had passed, I tried to get a glance at my hind leg, but my head was tightly locked in place. From my peripheral view however, I could see a metal ball rolling away from me. Another crack split the air and I was able to pinpoint the noise. Whatever contraption they had, it was making the noise. A small object shot from the metal cylinder and soared through the air. Then I realized what was happening, the contraption was used to shoot the metal balls.

This time the ball slammed into the concrete beside me, missing my head by mere centimeters. Horror and panic started to creep in from the edges of my mind, but I reminded myself that it would all be over soon. No more pain. The unknown griffin scooted the contraption another three yards back. No more beatings. The Lieutenant put another metal ball in the cylinder. No more starving. The Boss took a match to the cylinder. I can rest. The air split again.

This time the ball connected with my chest. Pain like I never experienced before coursed through my veins. My chest felt like it had been pulverized into a fine powder. I didn’t scream, I didn’t cry, I hardly moved. I could taste copper in my mouth.

I forced my eyes up and saw a forth griffin that I couldn’t recognize join the group. He started speaking to the Boss, but I couldn’t hear him at this distance. I heard the Boss’s reaction thought.

“What! She’s here? Now?”

And just like that, the two griffins I didn’t know and the Boss took to the sky. The Lieutenant started to wheel the contraption away. No. No, no no. They couldn’t leave now. They couldn’t leave me in pain like this. For the first time in my memory I became angry. I sucked in what breath I could muster, and I screamed. That got the Lieutenant’s attention. I sucked in more air and screamed again, with words attached to my breath this time.

“Bucking feather brains!”

I giggled. I just cursed. First words I speak years and I curse. I noticed the Lieutenant take out his blade and leap into the air. I spat the coppery taste out of my mouth and screamed again. My breath was cut off as a claw gripped my throat. My adrenaline was wearing off and I could feel myself fading in and out of consciousness. The last thing I saw was the Lieutenant’s blade and a black cloud with the beauty of the night sky wrapping around it.

“Thy may rest now, my little pony, but it is not thy day to die.”

* * *

Notes: Don't worry brony dudes, the major dark part is over and the story will pick up from here.
Thanks to my bro Roxy Shot for pre reading and editing this hunk of words for me.