Smile.
He touches me, and he does it.
Smile.
She berates me, and she does it.
Smile.
I don’t have a choice, and I do it.
Smile.
I keep going on, and what does it get me?
Smile.
One day I’ll leave this dog pen.
Smile.
One day it’ll be real.
Smile.
“Mom… I need to talk to you about something” I shook as I approached my mother. I was ready to tell her everything. About the abuse. About how long Father had been doing this to me. About how lost I was. That I was at the end of the world.
“Hmm?” Her contempt was visible – apparently this conversation was distracting her from her Higher Literature. That’s what she called it anyway; god bless her social standing.
“Daddy… Daddy does things to me… not good things to me.” I trailed off. I’ve never been eloquent, and her lack of interest in me had never helped. I don’t know why I called him “Daddy” when he wasn’t not around. Didn’t I have a choice if he couldn’t hear?
“Yeah, and?” Mother glanced at the clock, shooting me another dirty glare.
“No, you don’t understand… he touches me there.” Her face betrayed no shock. No hope that she was paying attention at all. My voice was dripping in… I wasn’t sure what, really. I couldn’t place the emotion. Was this “hope”? I had read about it in books at boring old school. I never understood it myself.
“Diamond Tiara, do you have the slightest idea how much that crown of yours costs?” She snarled at me.
“N… no, Mother.” I replied sheepishly.
“Daddy makes a lot of money for this family. For you, Diamond Tiara. You better be appreciative of what he does for you. He’ll do whatever he damn pleases to you, Diamond.” Mother was angry. Fuming, even. But at me – not at him. She went back to her Higher Literature.
“Yes, Mother.” I recited.
It’s been too long.
I can’t go on like this anymore.
I see the fillies at school.
That’s never been me.
They’d never understood.
They’d never help.
Hours with them aid nothing.
Staying here is worthless.
I rummaged through my belongings in my room.
“No, that can’t be it. No time to take that. That’s worthless.” I mumbled to myself as I pass through my closet, snatching the essentials and leaving my massive wardrobe. People think I’m Spoiled. Spoiled Rich, even. They wouldn’t understand – most of this wasn’t even my choice. I never asked to born into this family. And this crown – I never asked for it.
I tore down clothes en masse and dropped them onto the floor. Oops – her mess! I tore off my crown, like an actress, and threw it on top of the pile. That tiara is gone. I usurped power this time.
I grabbed my school bag and filled it with what I really needed: some extra food, my Ponyville ID card, a change of pyjamas for the evening, my diary, and a pen. Looking back, I didn’t need any of it. But heaven knows it was a tenth of what my parents would pack for a journey half as long.
I hummed as I work, sorting through a lifetime of old belongings. Most of them gave me a pit in my stomach, bringing back memories I would have preferred to stay put in a trash can in my head. Sighing, I pressed on.
Once I was satisified with what I had, I threw on the bag, checked to make sure I was still alone in the house, and ran.
Hoofs trotting.
Hoofs trotting.
Hoofs trotting.
A screech.
I had been running for an hour. Well, speed walking – it would have been awfully unladylike to run in public. I was past the outskirts of Ponyville by the time I was stopped, out by Sweet Apple Acres. I heard a curious familiar voice, and knowing the filly it came from, if she knew the truth, I would never have peace again. I thought she would just make fun of me and tell me to go back to my family. I hated the girls at school for what they had become, how stuck up and selfish they were. They never would have understood my predicament.
I wiped the tears and plastered on a fake expression. It was second nature for my interactions those days. I’ve had years of experience hiding it all around other ponies. One last time should not have hurt.
“Hello, Applebloom.” I jeered, acting all stuck-up, pretending to be the Tiara the fillies at school had always known.
An inquisitive glance.
A brush-off reply – she has no right to know.
An empathetic hug (after my “fine”).
A brush-off reply – she has no way to help.
A word of consolation.
I break.
I tell her everything.
About the days with Mother.
About the nights with Father.
About the girls at school.
About my drowning facial pool.
About the Diamond I act.
About the life I sacked.
She listened.
She responded.
With an inquisitive glance.
And an empathetic hug.
And a word of consolation.
Applebloom held me close. “It’s okay, Diamond Tiara. I believe you. I’m not mad. It’ll be okay.” For a moment I believed her, but as she finished her impromptu speech, the old me snapped back violently.
“Don’t you get it, you fool? It won’t be okay. I have two options. I keep dying in Ponyville, or I run out here. Maybe there’s a whole ’nuther world of ponies out there to explore, out in the distance. Maybe it’s all just a void. Either way, that’s for me to find out. I’ve made choice, Applebloom. You don’t understand any of this. You’re just another filly like me. You don’t even have your cutie mark yet! I’m leaving. Just… if you really were my friend, like you seem to think, you’d just leave me alone!”
I stormed off. She followed me, unfazed. The Apple family is made of strong stuff – apparently even the fillies. Ugh. Why couldn’t I have been stopped by Sweetie Belle or something?
Two sets of hooves.
Screeching lungs.
“Diamond, wait!”
Faster trotting.
Louder lungs.
“We can help!”
Trotting even faster.
One last breath from a green little filly.
“I’ll leave you alone if you try my way first.”
Two sets of exhaustion.
Agreement.
Solace.
“The farm is only a few minutes out. Talk to Granny Smith or Applejack or Big Macintosh. You’re right; I don’t know how to help you. But maybe they do. Just… come talk to them with me.” Applebloom was known around Ponyville for a lot of talents. Oratory was apparently not one of them.
“They’re just going to tell me to talk to Mother and Father, or to try to make it up with them, or that your family is the most important thing in the world. That’s what all the other ponies said to me when I told them. They’re not going to be any different. I appreciate the gesture, Applebloom. I really do. But it’s a waste of time.” I sniffled as I spoke. Applebloom replied with another hug. I’ll admit, it might have maybe made me feel a little teensiest bit better, maybe?
“C’mon, walk with me. It’ll be fun!” Applebloom beamed as I hesitantly agreed. Nothing left to lose, I suppose.
Two ponies, side-by-side.
Walking slowly, side-by-side.
Talking slowly, side-by-side.
Being slowly, side-by-side.
Smiling slowly, side-by-side.
We arrived at Sweet Apple Acres soon enough. I didn’t keep track of the time, but I didn’t mind. It didn’t matter if it was five minutes or an hour. For the first time in my life, I let up the mask and let loose in the company of another pony. We were alone, and while I don’t know why, somehow I trusted Applebloom not to betray. The odds were stacked against me, but sometimes risks are okay when there are no other options. That’s how I justified it to myself, anyway.
Applebloom led me to Applejack. Applebloom explained everything to her sister – er, mostly everything. I was rather skeptical she actually understood what she was conveying, but Applejack listened on in horror. Somebody understood what was going on. I braced myself for a berating.
“I’m so sorry, Diamond.” Applejack told me solemnly after Applebloom finished speaking. I waited to be told that it was all my fault, or that I should ignore it, or that friendship was magic.
“We have plenty of space on the farm. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you need.” My world stopped. I had mentally run through dozens of possible responses – I had prepared for every way this had gone wrong. I had never considered that somebody could be genuinely nice. Maybe I had met someone truly good, for the first time. Maybe my perspective had just changed. It doesn’t matter.
“I… I don’t know what to say.” I mean, it’s true, I didn’t know what to say. It’s no mystery that my cutie mark wasn’t in writing.
“Hey, you don’t need to say anything. Applebloom will show you around.” She smiled at me. I returned the gesture weakly.
I hated my old house.
Sweet Apple Acres was another house.
I never had a home.
Sweet Apple Acres became a home.
Applebloom and I were in our pyjamas that evening. The lights were out in her bedroom, but we were up talking to each other, of course. Who would spend the first night of their new life… sleeping in a bed? By the next day, I regretted that decision, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.
“Hey, Diamond Tiara. Did your parents have any idea you were going to run?” I cringed at the question, although I knew Applebloom was not trying to be intrusive.
“I don’t think so. Then again, it’s not lie they pay any attention anyway.” Applebloom nodded slowly, but her eyes told me her curiosity was nowhere near satiated.
“I guess. I don’t know. I just… hmm. Diamond, what’s your cutie mark for?” Applebloom seemed to be getting at something. Maybe she was making some grand point. I was fairly sure she was just asking disparate personal questions to make conversation or something.
“Getting other ponies to do what I want.” I snicker as the crude tale from when I was a little filly flashed before me.
“You really are a natural at deception, huh?” Applebloom cocked her head up as she spoke. I wasn’t sure anymore if Applebloom was still joking.
“I mean, I guess.” Maybe I wanted to sleep more than I thought I did.
“Can’t you turn that around? You could get ponies to do good. Or, at least, you could get bad ponies like your parents not to do evil, right?” Applebloom was insinuating something apparently. I groaned.
“Yeah, like what?” I spoke abrasively, which I quickly regretted as I realised that no, Applebloom was neither joking nor prying. I could not forget years of mistrusting others in an evening.
“I don’t know. Maybe help out with Pip and the school board!” Applebloom giggled adorably, lusting over the thought of a new playground.
“I guess I could do that.” I wasn’t so sure myself. I would find out in the coming days whether Applebloom’s prophecy would come into fruition.
Smile.
Family.
Smile.
Hope.
Smile.
Friendship.
Smile.
Author's Note
Written in about an hour of vigorous typing, to reconcile an unfortunate morning. Edited after publishing to fix a number of grammar issues resulting from my earlier carelessness.
