Prologue
13 years ago…
A putrid stench curled inside the young mare’s nostrils. For a moment, they were blessed with the sweet smell of cinnamon, but the smell was soon drenched and lost in the smell of something decaying. The mare struggled to sit up, but in doing so resulted in sharp pains in her wrists and ankles, and the feeling of sticky, warm liquid running down her violet coat.
The mare tried opening her eyes to see the predicament she was in, but to no avail, despite her eyes being open, everything was pitch black and slightly tinted with purple. Panic set in, causing the mare to struggling more. However, the more she struggled, the more excruciating the pain in her wrists and ankles became. The smell of cinnamon returned, then left, only to return again a short time after.
She could hear what sounded like metal being dropped on metal and rusty wheels squeaking. For a moment, it sounded like a set of hooves shuffling somewhere near her. Whether they were in front or behind or above, she couldn’t tell. The rough cloth covering her face was violently ripped off.
For a few moments, the mare’s eyes had a hard time adjusting to the new volume of light. When they finally did, however, her rosy eyes settled on a horrific sight. For the part of the room she could see, blood-stained a good portion of the floor and surfaces in the room. Torture devices, buckets of light bulbs, fish hooks, and nails, as well as a rack of handcuffs and a few generator batteries, were scattered about in the light.
To her dismay, the corpses of a few other mutilated ponies were scattered here and there. Panic set in again, and with all her strength, she attempted to free herself despite the immense pain she was feeling in her limbs. It was then she realized she was strapped to a metal table, warmed by her body heat and those who lost their lives on the same table before her.
The table was angled at a 50-degree angle, her hooves strapped to it by rusted, blood stained metal straps. The smell of cinnamon, the only saving grace to her tortured nostrils, disappeared, leaving her to gag and choke off of the stench of the decaying bodies in the room. Knowing the cause of the smell made it twice as unbearable and putrid.
“Come back… please. The smell makes me sick,” The mare begged.
“Ah, of course, darling. Just a moment, though, okay? I’m helping this young filly.” A sweet voice replied.
The sound of hooves drew near, and a sweet looking mare came into view, half covered in blood, along with a small, bloodstained and injured filly. The mare’s eyes were lemon yellow colored and seemed to draw her in. The blood covered mare undid the trapped mare’s binds and helped her down.
“Th-thank you, thank you so much. I-I’m Nettlekiss.” The mare with sliced ankles and wrists spoke, hugging the other. The mare with the lemon yellow eyes smiled softly and hugged back.
“You’re welcome, I’m… Lemon Peaches. Can you walk on your own?” The yellow-eyed mare asked. Nettlekiss responded with a small nod of her head.
“It hurts to stand, I imagine it hurts to walk too, but I think I can make it. Do you know the way out?” Nettlekiss asked.
“Of course, I watched the pony who put us in here leave. Follow me.” Lemon Peaches spoke, walking towards the door. Nettlekiss and the young filly followed her. They stopped at a flight of stairs leading out of what Nettle assumed was the basement.
“Here, you two go first. If you fall due to pain, Nettle, I’ll be behind you to catch you, okay?” Lemon Peaches spoke with a kind smile.
Nettle nodded and she and the filly began to make their way upstairs with Lemon Peaches behind them. A sense of dread and the feeling that something was wrong began to overwhelm Nettlekiss. Something’s not right, she began to think, and freedom can’t be this easy. Slowly, Nettle looked back at Lemon Peaches, only to find the mare gone.
Panic set in once again as Nettlekiss bolted up the stairs with the filly in pursuit. Just as Nettle reached the doorway, the mare who was supposed to be aiding them in their escape stepped out, blocking Nettlekiss and the filly from leaving.
Lemon Peaches’ sweet smile and kind eyes quickly turned wicked and cruel. A psychotic giggled erupted from her throat.
“You honestly believed you’d both get away that easy? Just like that? And you didn’t think to question how I ‘escaped’? Or the real reason I let you go first? Ahahaha!! So pathetic!” She laughed, doubling over. Her psychotic laughter echoed against the wall, making it sound more intimidating.
“Y-You sick bastard! You’re a monster!! A devious, lying monster!! I bet ‘Lemon Peaches’ isn’t even your real name!!” Nettlekiss screamed, her voice a mix of anger and sadness.
“Now, now, that’s a strong accusation there, and monster is just barely scratching the surface.” The mare said slyly with a mischievous smirk.
“You can h-hurt me all you want, just let the filly go! She doesn’t deserve this fate!” Nettle screamed, choking back a sob.
“Why’re you screaming? Nopony can hear you, y’know,” The mare spoke in a matter-of-fact tone “even if you did escape, it’d be quite pointless, considering the fact we’re, oh, I don’t know, thirty miles out of town, in the middle of the woods. You’d never make it back to town, not with your injuries.”
“You’re bluffing! You… You have to be…!” Nettle’s voice wavered as tears began to roll down her cheeks. It took all she had to not full break down and cry in front of the killer before them. She wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of letting her see really just how much she getting to her.
“Believe me, dear, you’d know it if I was,” The mare spoke, taking a small step towards them “but I believed we’ve talked long enough, wouldn’t you say?”
“Gah! I fucking hate you! I hope you rot in Hell!” Nettle screamed, stepping back a bit.
“Language! There’s a child present,” The mare sneered “besides, that’s no way to speak
to the neighbor who graciously and willingly helped you when you moved in a few weeks ago. Did you parents ever teach you any manners, Nettle? You’re quite rude.”
Nettle’s eyes widened as a gasp escaped her lips as the mare had said she was her neighbor. The mare smirked and stepped forward again.
“What’s the matter? Nothing to say back or does the cat have your tongue?” She snickered, getting close to Nettlekiss.
“Y-you’re Or-” Nettle began to mutter, but was cut off by the mare punching her in the face. Nettle stumbled backward and fell down the stairs. With a sickening crunch, Nettle’s body came to stop and slumped over, completely still afterward. The sound of Nettle’s neck snapping in half put a satisfied smile on the mare’s face. The young filly whimpered and backed away from her.
“Now,” The mare began as she turned to the child “let’s play a quick game. A harmless, painless game. Okay?”
The filly reluctantly nodded her head and whimpered again. The mare smiled at her and said:
“Let’s play a simple game of ‘Would You Rather’,” The mare spoke as she sat down on the steps next to the filly and wrapped a foreleg around her “would you rather live or would you rather die? Now, before you’re quick to answer, let me explain the catches to each side.
If you choose to live, you have to live with me for the rest of your life, and you have to work with me and take up my profession, all the while keeping it a secret and the only pony who should know about it is me and if you tell, well, you’ll die. And feel free to call me whatever mother terms you’d like. If you choose to die, well, you’re obviously going to die, but it’s going to be a slow, agonizing one, even though I promised yours would be painless and quick. Got it?”
The little filly gulped and looked down, carefully thinking about and weighing her options. She was only five and dreamed of being a dancer like her mother or a musician like her father, or perhaps maybe both. If she were to choose to die, those dreams would be forever dead, along with her, but if she chose to live… maybe, just maybe… she could still achieve them.
“I… I choose to live,” The filly spoke quietly, her frail body quivering.
