'Okay class, that's it for today! Don't forget, tomorrow is the last test on bioogy before the final, so study hard!' Cheerilee clapped her hooves, and began to wipe the blackboard clean.
Scootaloo pulled on her coat and saddlebags, and ambled over to the table where Sweetie Belle and Applebloom sat. Usually, after school, the three of them would dream up various ways to get their cutie marks. Today, however, the other two were deep in discussion, and didn't notice Scootaloo until she cleared her throat loudly.
Applebloom turned around. 'Oh, uh, hey Scoots.'
'Ready to get out of here? I have this great idea - Cutie Mark Crusader-'
Before Scootaloo could finish, Applebloom shook her head. 'Sorry Scootaloo. Me and Sweetie Belle are way behind on our biology work. If I fail that test, Applejack will kill me.'
Sweetie Belle nodded in concurrence. 'Rarity's already mad at me for screwing up my preliminary magic training. I don't think she'd let me back home if I failed biology on top of that.'
'Ahw come on now, Sweetie Belle, that wasn't your fault. You didn't mean to set the instructor's mane on fire...'
Scootaloo cut in. 'Okay, sure! I need to get some biology prep in as well. So, are we going to the treehouse?'
Applebloom shook her head. 'Nope. Applejack and Big Mac are showing some apple merchants around, so Sweet Apple Acres is off limits.'
Sweetie Belle chimed in. 'Rarity's designing her new line at the moment, so we're not going to the Boutique, either.'
'Yeah, that's just what we were discussing. Maybe we could stay behind at the school... wait, Scoots, why don't we go back to your place?'
Scootaloo had been half-asleep throughout this exchange, but the mention of her home caused her to sit bolt upright. A freezing sensation, as if ice was running through her blood, began in the pit of her stomach and rose upwards, threatening to throttle her brain.
Before she had time to compose herself, Scootaloo instinctively yelled out. 'NO!'
Time seemed to come to a standstill as every foal in the vicinity turned to stare at her. Flushing crimson, Scootaloo hastily tried to amend her mistake.
'I-I mean, my dad, ha ha, he's a little- a little uptight about visitors. So, y'know, we should just probably not bother him. He's, uhh, he's painting the house. Yeah.'
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle looked thoroughly taken aback by this response, and not in the slightest bit convinced by Scootaloo's explanation. Applebloom was the first to speak up. 'Ya okay, Scootaloo?'
Of course not. 'Fine. Sorry, just dozed of there.'
Applebloom didn't seem so sure, but Sweetie Belle seemed satisfied with this answer. 'I guess we shouldn't bother him, then. Hey, should we ask Cheerilee if we can study here?'
Scootaloo sank back into her chair as Sweetie Belle trotted off to badger Cheerilee. That was stupid. Why can't I just keep my mouth closed once in a while?
Dad was right. I really do screw everything up.
For the next three hours, the three fillies worked through page after page of equine biology. Scootaloo trailed behind the other two, only making the occasional note, or answering a few questions in a worksheet. These days, it seemed like she hardly had the energy for schoolwork.
In fact, she rarely had any interest in doing anything. It was only when she was playing with her friends, lost in her own imagination, that she could see the world as having a little bit of the colour it had once held.
Everypony noticed. Sweetie Belle and Applebloom complained about how she wasn't as fun. Cheerilee complained about her failing grades. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were bigger spoiled, stuck up bitches than ever. Scootaloo could feel her life slipping away, and the worst part was that she hardly cared any more.
'Scootaloo?'
Scootaloo realized she had dozed off, and was now lying face-first against the table. 'Yeah?'
'Scootaloo, is this all you've done in the past three hours?'
Applebloom waved two pages with some vague scribbles on them in front of her. Scootaloo blinked at the pages as they came into focus.
'I guess so.'
Applebloom threw the pages down. 'Get your act together, Scoots. We have finals in two weeks, you know!'
Sweetie Belle cut in. 'Applebloom, don't be too harsh.'
'"Too harsh"? Sweetie Belle, she's done nothing! She never does anything these days, either!'
Scootaloo felt anger rising in her stomach. Before she could stop herself, she snapped back.
'I didn't ask for your opinion, Applebloom!'
Applebloom snorted, but didn't respond. Instead, she opened up her book and flipped to a random page. Picking a question at random, she began to read. 'What class of diseases are characterized by inflammation of the fetlock?'
Scootaloo stared at the ground. 'I don't know.'
'What dietary changes must be made for a pony suffering from Cushing's disease?'
Scootaloo didn't answer. Applebloom began to chide her. 'Want to phone a friend?'
'Applebloom, stop it.' Sweetie Belle's voice was quiet, yet commanding. When Applebloom turned to her, she nodded at Scootaloo, who was staring intently at the floor, tears dripping from her face, her breathing tightly constrained, and interrupted only by short, sharp gulps.
Guilt welled up in Applebloom, yet no words of apology were forthcoming. Instead, she could only watch dumbly as Scootaloo gathered her saddlebag and coat, and strode out of the building.
Scootaloo didn't head straight home. She only did that when she had to, when it was dark, and she was expected. Instead, she headed for the edge of town, towards the Everfree forest. Though she would never have the courage to go in on her own, she had discovered a small clearing that only she knew about. It was a private place - not even her friends knew about it. After all, she had no privacy in her own home, so why not find privacy somewhere else?
As soon as she reached the clearing, she broke down. Collapsing in the middle of the clearing, she sobbed until her body ached, and she could no longer continue. Instead, she laid pitifully on the ground, hoping it would open up and swallow her whole. She had almost certainly just lost the respect of the only two ponies in the world she was certain cared about her. Her future was in tatters. Why even move from this spot?
Time passed, and the sun set across Ponyville. As the day's fading light shone through the branches of the Everfree forest, Scootaloo knew she had to leave. The Everfree forest became a much more dangerous place at night, and fear of the shadows was enough to convince her to postpone her own demise.
She began at a snail’s pace, making her way through Ponyville. Around her, doors and windows closed, as happy couples and families settled down for the night. She saw happy, smiling ponies populating the various brightly-lit bars and cafes of Ponyville, ponies having a good time, making new memories, making new friends.
And all too soon, Scootaloo found herself standing outside her own home. A single light was on - in the kitchen. She knew what that meant.
Scootaloo crept inside, praying she would not be noticed. The second she had finished closing the bolt on the door, she heard his voice.
'Scootaloo... come over here and give daddy a kiss.'
Scootaloo had long since stopped resisting her father. All it did was make him angry, and when he got angry, he beat her. So she put up with it. She would never enjoy it, no matter what he said. But she still knew better than to resist.
She knew what it was. At first, when she was younger, she hadn't understood why her father did such things. She had even thought it was a game, even though she hated playing it. Over time, she had come to realize what he was doing, and that it was wrong. But she still didn't do anything about it. Partly because she was worried about being homeless, but mostly because she didn't want anypony to know what had happened. What she had done.
Either way, her father didn't get fancy over the affair, and wasted little time in pinning her to the sofa, using his own weight to hold her down. All the while, he slobbered a stream of vile utterances into her ear, belittling her mother for leaving him and denying him a mare's touch, all the while crooning about how much he loved her in gorish detail.
Scootaloo said nothing. If she said nothing, it was all over sooner, something she had learnt from experience. Sure enough, her father quickly tired of his leering and pulled back.
Scootaloo braced herself, but she was never quite able to prepare herself for the utter revulsion she felt when her father penetrated her. The first couple of times, she had been physically sick, a sight that had at first amused her father, but quickly made him merely irritable and violent, so she had had to learn how to control herself quickly. She quickly assumed her default posture - head facing downwards, arms limp. That way, she felt less like a pony, more like a doll.
This routine continued for several more minutes, until eventually her father's movements grew faster, and she heard him begin to grunt and wheeze. She knew what came next, and stiffened upon feeling a warm sensation spread through her. Her father grunted in satisfaction, and collapsed on the sofa beside her. Scootaloo collapsed beside him, only to be shoved off the sofa by her father.
'DON'T GET ANY ON MY FUCKING COUCH!'
Scootaloo flinched, and nodded quickly. 'Yes daddy. Sorry daddy.'
Her father looked disgusted, and a little guilty too. But then, he always looked guilty afterwards. It never stopped him doing it again. 'Clean yourself up. I left some hayfries in the mircowave.'
In the safety of the bathroom, Scootaloo stared at herself in the mirror. A soulless, dead pony stared back. If this was the face Sweetie Belle and Applebloom had to look at all day, no wonder they got sick of her.
Scootaloo wondered if her father knew what he was doing to her, or if he even cared. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, he did love her. Sometimes, he would break down and cry, beg for forgiveness, promise to never, ever hurt her again.
Of course, he would still do it again, but the fact, just the fact that he apologized, meant he must love her, right? Otherwise he wouldn't care at all! If only he wasn't so lonely, if only her mother hadn't left...
But then her mother would be in the same position she was now. Scootaloo didn't blame her for leaving, if that was the case.
Scootaloo reached over and turned the shower knob. A stream of ice cold water shot out. No hot water. Great.
It took her less than a few minutes to clean herself. Once she was done, she crept out of the shower, and crossed the kitchen. There were indeed a plate of hayfries in the microwave. Her father fed her too. Surely that must mean he cared for her. Surely...
Surely there must be somepony out there who loved her.
She took her food into the living room, where her father lay sprawled across the sofa, watching TV. She ate in silence for a few minutes, plucking up her courage. Finally, she spoke up.
'D-d-daddy?'
Her father snorted. 'What?'
Scootaloo couldn't believe she was about to say this. 'Do you love me?'
Her father stopped channel-surfing, and turned to face her. 'What does that mean?'
Scootaloo said nothing, letting out the tiniest squeak. Her father rose to his hooves and grabbed her by the shoulders.
'Am I not good enough for you? Do you know how much I've invested in this family, you stupid cunt?'
Scootaloo felt fresh tears roll down her cheeks, and she shook her head repeatedly. 'P-p-pleease,,,'
Her father snorted, and raised a hoof. Instinctively, she flinched and braced herself for the inevitable blow. When no such strike came, she tentatively opened her eyes to see her father pointing at the stairs.
'Room. Now.'
Merciful for her escape, Scootaloo scrambled upstairs, fled into her room, and slammed the door. Downstairs, she heard her father grumbling, a brief pause, and then the TV blaring again.
She shouldn't have provoked him. He worked hard to feed them both. She should just try to be a better daughter. He really did love her. Right?
Right.
Right.
Scootaloo wasn't sure who she was talking to any more.
