All Things Begin

We'd already prepped the place for us to leave when I'd decided to speak up to Chet, so when we went to leave all we had to do was turn a couple lights off and lock the back door behind us. We rode home without really talking, mostly because Chet had installed a new stereo system in their car, (there previously wasn't even a radio, just a hole and some wiring) and we blasted a recording of a live mix by Jam & Spoon on the way back to my house. We said our goodbyes and 'see you tomorrows' and Chet had waved, driving off as soon as I got up near the front door and the automatic porch light had come on.

I prepped myself for the worst, and quietly slid my key in the lock, turning the cylinder over, and carefully pushing my way into the house. I shut the door with the same care and tried my best to sneak downstairs to my room. As best I could, being a pony in a house with creaky wood floors.

I'd made it to the top of the staircase in the den, when I heard the flick of a lighter, and that little sizzle that accompanies lighting a cigarrette.

“So,” My mother, who, as she spoke, flipped the light on, said, “Out until 9:15, huh? I thought that job of yours was only gonna keep you 'till 7?” She asked, her feigned sweet voice laced with a secret venom.

“I-it, uh, it ran late, uhm, today, just like, just today though, Mom, 'cause it was m-m-my first day, y'know?” I stammered. It wasn't a secret that my mother scared the shit out of me.

“Liar!” She yelled, throwing her cigarrete out of her levitation. It hit me in the cheek, but I caught it before it hit the carpet and snuffed it out in the ashtray on top of the television next to me. “I bet you were out hittin' that pipe, weren't'cha? You little shit, think you can lie to my face? I oughta lick you good, you little bastard!” She screamed, her spit flying across the six foot space between us and tickling the fur on my face. I winced with every word, tears coming to my eyes. I could smell the booze on her breath from here.  I backed into the corner at the top of the stairs, and she took a step forward.

“I bet you're high as a fucking kite, aren't you, fucker? Aren't you?!” She yelled, evidently not asking a rheotoric question this time.

“N-n-n-no, no m-ma'am.” I said, trying to be as loud an clear as possible, even though I was about to wet myself. Tears streamed down my face and I tried futiley to back farther into the corner.

“Ma'am? Ma'am?! Are you makin' fun of me? You smartass! I'll beat the smart right out of your ass, you little snot! How dare you patronize me, I'm your mother! I brought you into this world, you ungrateful brat!” She screamed, and picked up a full ashtray from the coffee table and flung it at me. I ducked under it and it buried itself in the drywall behind me, but not before spilling a large pile of black cigarette ash all over the white carpet. The only carpeted room in the house, of course.

“Oh. My. Luna. Look what you made me do, you moron! You're gonna clean that up right after I kick your ass for being so fucking stupid! Get over here, right now!” She said, stomping her foot so hard on the floor I heard her hoof crack. She'd have to go to the doctor for that, and it'll be my fault, too.

The sad part is, I'd have gotten it worse if I'd run from her, or stayed where I was, or fought. I knew, I'd tried before. So I had no other choice but to take it, and so I did. I dropped my school bag on the top step of the stairs and dragged myself toward her, head down, trying my best to mentally prepare myself for what happened next.