Little Toy Guns

by Nugget

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Dark, Twilight Sparkle, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5739

Sugar Lily is hiding in her closet once more. She hopes the fighting between her parents would just stop.

A long time ago, I wanted a family that was just as perfect as the ones I found in fairy tales. However, what I have isn't something I'd ever wish for.

Warning: This story contains mature language and disturbing scenes of domestic abuse and violence. Reader's discretion is heavily advised.

Edited by Princess Amore Dudette & Samey90

This story is based on a personal issues I had in my past along with these songs:

Carrie Underwood - "Little Toy Guns"
Five Finger Death Punch - "Coming Down"
John Michael Montgomery - "The Little Girl"
Les Miserables - "Castle on a Cloud"
Nickelback - "Never Again"

Published 2017-11-26 13:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-11-26 13:40:06 UTC

Broken Frames, Broken Relationships

A stuffed pony - my most prized possession - laid before me. It bore the likeness of Princess Twilight Sparkle, the proclaimed Princess of Friendship. For the longest time, she’d been my favorite because of her belief in the power of friendship and love. No matter what the problem may be, she knew that friends could settle disputes between each other.

To quote her words, “Friendship always prevailed since its magic was the most powerful thing in world!”

That statement was the reason why I'd always looked up to her as my favorite princess for all my sixteen years!

I kept her close to me every night while I hid in my bedroom closet, praying the real Twilight Sparkle might come find me one day and help my family out. She was capable of doing so since everypony in Equestria knew about her amazing feats. If she was strong enough to defeat a foe the size of small mountain, then I’m sure she could settle the disputes between my mommy and daddy.

In the meantime, staying in my closet kept me safe from them. In fact, this place became my shelter from all their yelling and fighting. Every time my parents screamed, I’d run here, shut the door behind me, and then dive into a pile of my clothing. Lastly, I would cover my ears and drown out the noise.

Depending on how long their argument lasts, I’d usually wait in there for an hour or longer. I think the longest time I stayed in my closet was close to three hours. I’m ashamed of that since I knew I shouldn’t be afraid of the two ponies who loved me dearly. However, when they turned on each other, it scared me. They were completely different ponies once the fighting began.

That’s why I always held my Twilight doll close to me. She was the only one I could turn to during these harsh times. I could depend on her to be there for me.

I heard their voices echo down the hallway and into my pink bedroom. It terrified me. With my Twilight plush pressed up against my chest, I thought about how they didn’t seem to love each other like how I loved them. I was their only daughter, their flesh and blood, and the best thing they claimed to have ever known.

I had no brothers or sisters. I was born to a father who always acted funny every Friday night after he drank a few bottles of this al-co-hol. He said that it made, “Daddy feel a lot better about himself.” However, I knew he had to be lying since it always brought out the worst in him. Usually, he would be one who started the fight with mommy.

I could hear her slurred speech through the teeth she had lost in the years gone by. Mommy loved her medications to the point where she would fight against daddy over keeping them in the household. Daddy always said they never helped her, but mommy would yell back at him and say, “It’s just as helpful and fulfilling as his bottles of beer.” I had to disagree since nopony would sell everything they got in order to pay for the, as daddy called them, drugs she craved.

I learned a long time ago that if you had to give up everything in the world for just one meaningless thing, then it’s not worth it to you at all. These drugs weren’t worth it to me or my daddy, neither was the alcohol. I wished both of those things were out of this house for good! They never did anything except get my parents to argue over how the other isn’t necessary for them. They're a nuisance!

They took the ponies that were once loving and sweet and turned them into something I never wanted to call my parents before! It’s a description I’d read in fairy tales and fantasy novels, but never would have thought to use in real life. I constantly begged and pleaded to myself to never use the word before, however I could only do so for so long.

The fighting had gone on for months. It’s hard for me to remember the last time this household was silent and peaceful. When mommy or daddy were out of the house for certain lengths of time, the fighting was minimal. Keeping them apart meant no pony was going to bicker or yell at the other. A thin layer of serenity could linger in the air while I spent precious time with either mommy or daddy.

Why couldn’t they be normal parents and just get along? That’s all I wanted at the end of the day. I wanted the picturesque family I read about in storybooks. I’d dreamt of having a mother who would always care for me even in the worst situations. Meanwhile, I wanted a father who would do what he could to protect and keep me safe from threats like the ‘schoolyard bully.’ But I guess I didn’t deserve those ponies for some odd reason because as soon as the other came home, the fighting would start up once more.

That’s when they showed their true selves.

I’m sorry mom and dad, but you two are just... j-just...

Monsters.

When they appeared, I’d hide from them in my closet. I’d wait there until the madness was over, when one of them left the house. That’s how their fights usually ended. Afterwards, I wouldn’t see either mommy or daddy until they returned a few days later.

I missed my mom whenever she was gone. When mommy was around the house, she treated me like a princess and this home like a wondrous castle on a fluffy cloud. “Everything in this household is filled to the brim with magical discoveries which are waiting to be unfolded,” as my mother would say. When she wasn’t tidying up the place or cooking meals, my mom was always finding time to teach me the usefulness of magic around the household.

One time, she helped to perfect my levitation spell with a heavy object. Encasing an old cookie jar within her magical aurora, mommy flew it into the air while I stood right beside her in the kitchen. She told me, “Never lose your concentration on the object you wish to suspend in the air. Otherwise, it will…” She transferred the control of the jar to me. However, since I wasn’t as strong as her, or as focused, it didn’t take more than two seconds before it…

“...crashed to... the ground. Uggg!” she facehoofed.

“I’m so sorry, mommy!” I cried out, tears escaping my trembling eyes. With my lips quivering, I felt horrible for dropping the jar. What was I supposed to do? It weighed a lot! My magic wasn’t strong enough to hold up the jar. I was a weak little filly. I knew I would never-ever be as strong as mommy.

She kneeled down and wiped the tears from my cheeks, telling me that it’s not my fault at all. Mommy admitted that we should have started with a smaller object, like a ball or toy. The jar was too big and bulky for a beginner. However, since she didn’t think things through, using the jar was going to inevitably result in it being dropped towards tile floor and broken.

My mom said it was her fault, yet I stood there crying over the broken cookie jar. I didn’t do what I was supposed to do, and I even said that I should be punished for my actions. All bad deeds shouldn’t go unpunished. Proceeding towards my bedroom, I started to walk away with my head hung low.

Shaking her head, mommy softly told me, “You’re alright, my dear. Come here Sugar Lily.”

She pulled me into a hug and reminded me of a passage from my favorite story. It’s a rule between her and I. In a place of positivity and happiness, there would be no tears shed among anypony. Crying at all wasn’t allowed inside our house, or castle as me and mommy liked to call it. Crying meant that bad things were happening inside in the house. Bad things didn’t belong in a home. Therefore, why should you ever cry there?

Dwelling within the darkness of my closet, I’m kept my eyes tightly shut. While I whimpered, I tried to not let a tear escape from them. Holding my Twilight plush close to me, I told myself not to cry since bad things weren’t occurring. Mommy and daddy’s arguments were just normal events inside my home. It couldn’t be a bad thing if it’s routine. I’d yet to ask them why it was this way, but I’m too afraid of angering them once more.

My parent’s hateful attitudes terrified me to the point where I hid away from their sight. I didn’t want to further their anger anymore than what I had already done. Besides the drugs and alcohol, I’m another reason why mommy and daddy fought. When one of them took themselves out of the household for an unknown length of time, the other claimed they’re horrible enough to leave me behind.

So I’m told, “A real parent would never abandon their child under any circumstances.”

Those words came from my father. While my mother was absent, daddy would treat me less like a princess and more like a tough and rugged warrior. We played games like Roughhouse, where him and I ran around and tried to chase the other down. Once him or I were within our grasps, we would tackle the other to the floor and wrestle. Since I was a filly, it didn’t take long for me to submit victory to my macho father.

Nevertheless, I always tried to put up a good fight. My father always taught me to be a fighter and not a coward. He said I needed to stand my ground and never back down from my foes. That’s what a fighter does. They stood for what they believed in and refused to be broken down and kicked into the dust.

My daddy said, “I must stand tall for myself since I’m worth it to me and the rest of the world.”

I’m his “Little Cowgirl.”

Besides Roughhouse, another game we played was Shoot’em Up Cowponies! Using two metal toy guns, him and I would run around the house and try to shoot at the other. We would say “ bang!” every time we pulled the trigger, hoping the other would go down and surrender. It took some effort to chase my dad through the living room, kitchen, hallway, and bedrooms. I tried my hardest to line up a shot on him and hope he would fall to the ground.

There was one time were I caught him off guard. When he wasn’t looking, I snuck thru the kitchen and got behind the couch in the living room. His favorite spot to stand by was near the fireplace, right behind his personal lazy colt. He held his pistol within a bright green aurora, waiting to aim it at me.

However, I had the upper hoof in this situation. Using the cover of the couch, I crawled closer and closer to him while my gun levitated above my head in a velvet glow. I knew my father was trapped in that corner and had nowhere else to go. He then ran in front of the couch and tried to dive towards the hallway, but my gun was a lot faster than his legs.

“Bang! Bang!” I shouted with glee.

After my father dropped his pistol, he fell towards the ground and laid out on the carpet. Acting like he actually got shot, he took a forehoof and covered his chest. With drawn-out agony, he cursed my name and proclaimed his death will only serve as a beacon of justice towards how cruel I can be. I’ll rue the day I shot and killed him after he didn’t give into my demand for pizza as dinner for tonight!

“Oh the humanity!” where his last dying words.

I ran towards my father and hugged him closely. I loved him dearly. I never wanted to bring any harm to him. Therefore, I kindly asked him to get back up while pulling on one of his legs. With his eyes shut, my father still pretended to be dead while I did what I could to resuscitate him. If pulling in his legs or soft nudges against his shoulders didn’t work, then I would have no other choice but to punch him in the chest.

It always worked.

Like a bolt of lightning shooting through his entire body, my father instantly jumped back up. As he brushed the dust he collected off his back, daddy sincerely thanked me for my herotic services. When I miraculously save his life for the thousandth time, he always rewarded me with something him and I constantly craved. Isn’t it weird how we both loved leftover pizza?

In the kitchen, I sat at the dinner table with my delicious, heated up dinner resting on a plate before me. While I had a glass of water to drink, my father indulged himself with another cold bottle of beer. Taking a few sips, he pulled up a chair and sat across the table with his pizza. I never understood why he sat there instead of next to me, but I wasn’t going to ask him that question.

Instead, I remained quiet while we ate our dinner. The only time I talked was when daddy was curious about my schoolwork and friends. I always told him nothing was going on with my school work. I was always stayed on top of it. I wasn’t the model, straight-A student, but wasn’t a total failure like some of the other colts and fillies I knew at the prep school in Canterlot. I just minded my own business and kept my head in the books like Twilight Sparkle.

As for friends, I never had any at all. My daddy said that’s ok since I was introverted, some pony who prefered to be left alone and by themselves. My dad assumed I took that trait from my mother, who was also an introvert, but I’d admit that wasn’t true.

I never took it from her! Instead, I developed it from all the times I continuously hid away from their arguments. I shut myself out from the world since I was afraid of speaking up against their fighting. I became an introvert not because it was genetically passed from my mother, but because I had no place to speak.

It shutout my ability to voice my concerns. I hated their fighting more than anything else in the world, yet I couldn’t do anything about it without getting into trouble myself. I was always told to go back to my room and wait until their argument was over. If that didn’t work, they held my hoof, escorted me to my room, and slam the door behind me.

Throwing a huge temper tantrum, I pouted, punched, shredded through my pillow. I watched the feathers fly before they covered my entire bedroom floor. With enraged hysteria, I then grabbed at my Twilight doll and tossed it above my dresser. I watched it collide with an old picture I kept up there. In a matter of seconds, it fell straight toward the floor with a crash! The picture frame cracked while it’s glass shattered into small pieces.

As the photo laid by my feet, I saw it was still secured within the wood frame that now had a broken glass window. The picture itself was torn, but I could still see the wonderful waterfall in the background along with all three of us effortlessly smiling for the camera. It was taken during the family’s first vacation to Neighagra Falls. It captured a beautiful, yet dreadful moment for us.

We actually looked like we were the definition of a perfect family.

I wish I could show them the photo and ask them to return to this state of mind, when everything was fine and there was no such thing as hate or spite for the other. All I wanted was harmony between my mom and dad! Their fighting and arguing had gone on three years too long! I had enough of it! After pacing around my room for more than an hour, I finally snapped and pushed my door back open.

I walked up to them and yelled until my voice cracked. I wanted their fighting to end on the spot. I wanted all the shouting and screaming to reside so I could have the normal parents I dreamt about and read in fairy tales. However, my idea backfired and earned me a slap across the face from my parents. They told me to never meddle in their heated discussions ever again unless I wanted to be punished further.

With tears falling from my eyes, I shook my head and murmured, “No.”

That’s the last time I ever intervened in their arguments.

Now I sat inside my closet like a trapped princess who waited to be rescued from the monsters. As I held my Twilight plushie close, I prayed for their vicious argument to not last for more than ten minutes. If that happened, then it would be considered a victory over the nasty creatures which inherited my parent’s bodies. I could then go back to the state where my family seemed sane and ordinary.

I’ve hid inside my closet for more than thirty minutes tonight, listening to the screaming and growling from my parents. This time, the fight was all about how mommy had used too much of his salary to buy another bag of glass. I had no idea what she meant by “glass,” but I just assumed it was drugs since daddy told her it was a complete waste of their money.

I heard the snark in my mom’s voice as she shouted, “Well your alcohol is another complete waste of our money as well!”

That got my father riled up as he told her to, “Not be such an idiot when it came to the good stuff you’re addicted to! Therefore, how about you quit so I could have a caring wife once again!”

She screamed back at him at the top her voice, “And I should say the same to you! All the alcohol you drink around here causes you to be nothing but a drunken fool! Then you’ll sit there on your chair all day like a sleazy scrub with a gut the size of a watermelon!”

My father didn’t take the fat joke kindly as I heard something smash into side of a wall. Did he throw something at my mother? I asked myself. Whatever he threw had to heavy since it shattered upon impact.

My mother immediately barked at him with ferocity, “Why the fuck did you throw your beer bottle at me you retard!”

My father then growled, “It’s because you called me a fatass, you stupid bitch! How would you like it if I sat here and called you a toothless mare?!”

“Then it wouldn’t be any better than the words you’ve already said!” my mother cried out. “All I ever wanted out of you was kindness and respect for the things I’ve done for you and Sugar Lilly! Yet, it has amounted to more name calling and shouting at each other!”

Something slid across the living room counter. “You know what?” My mother firmly stated, “I’m done!”

There was another loud thud against the wall, followed by a grunt from my mother. “Let me go you asshole! Free me from your magic this once!”

“No!” he shouted.

I gasped out of shock. Why did he pin her against the wall? This was the first time he had ever touched my mother in an argument before! What in tartarus is going on in there? I wondered.

I drew my ear closer into the wall, trying to catch every last word they shouted.

I heard my father command my mother to, “Drop.... the fucking…. gun! Right now!”

“Suck a long stallion cock!”

In my head, I was sure my mother had picked up one of my metal toys in the living room and tried to throw it back to my dad. “Stop… please, just stop,” I pleaded to myself, cradling my Twilight plush within my forehooves. “I want this to be all over. I want this to be all over. I WANT IT TO STOP!”

My parents sounded like two immature kids exchanging insults between each other before one of them resorted to asserting their dominance. That’s the lie I’ve chosen to believe in order to help cope with all the noise I heard. With my eyes closed and my hooves gripped to my Twilight plushie, I wished my lie was the truth since play-fighting can be stopped at any moment. There were no hard feelings involved,and no real inflictions from the fights

For ages, I wanted my mom and dad to tell me that their arguments were all just a part of a game they played each night. Just like my little toy guns, they were fake and never had any real implications or meaning to begin with. When they said something hurtful, they never actually meant it. They were as empty as blank bullets, fired from the mouth of the gun.

I could settle with the fact they faked all the yelling and screaming for some reason I had no idea about. I would care for their explanation since it meant the end of my trepidations. I was ready to see the light at the end of this long and misery filled tunnel, to finally get the chance to move on and have a real mommy and daddy.

BANG!

I jumped, letting out a shrill before my body ran cold. It shook me, leaving my ears to ring from the sudden blast. My eyes then grew wide as my breath shortened to little puffs of air. The fear within me began to creep out since an eerie silence settled into the household.

Once the ringing was subsided, I heard nothing from the living room. There was no shuffling, mumbling, shouting, or screaming any longer. It was dead silent. I believed the fight had ended, but for mommy and daddy to suddenly stop their arguing after a loud noise was strangely odd. It usually escalated their anger since the loudest sound they sometimes made was from shutting the front door on the other.

This new noise had a distinct metal sound to it and bared no resemblance to my mother or father harshly slamming a door shut. It was louder, abrupt, and it sent chills down my spine. I felt disturbed, as if something cold crawled through my skin and left goosebumps in it’s wake. My body trembled while my ears remained glued to the wall.

I remained in the closet for another minute and heard nothing from the living room. Through the chilling fear which made my body shiver, my mind had to wonder, What just happened inside the living room? Did daddy bang something solid on a table? Did mommy throw my toy gun at him and it crashed?

My curiosity began to set in, which was added by another sound I now heard through the walls. Somepony in the living room was softly crying, and I had no idea why or who it was. All I heard was moaning and agony expressed through their sorrow.

My father then screamed out the word, “Why?!” before silence ensued once more.

He repeated the word “why” a few more times, crying out to the heavens! A part of me wanted to find out what would cause my father to act out this way. As I pushed a piece of clothing off of me, I froze. My mind remained wrapped around the fear of him lashing out like he usually does to my mother or me.

I heard the desperate pleas and moans continue to cry out from my father for another minute. Like a puppet, they tugged at my will and forced me into a decision of whether or not I should remain in my closet. I knew the fighting was over since my mother never spoke another word since the loud noise.

My first assumption was that my mother left the house and that the noise was from the door being shut. However, I immediately ruled that out since my father has never been this upset over my mother taking herself out of the home for some time. In fact, his reaction was usually the opposite. He’d be angry, on the verge of screaming out words I shall not repeat. Therefore, I believed the issue didn’t lie with something that my mother did to my father, but what my father did to my mother.

What did he do? I asked myself.

I had to investigate. Leaving my Twilight plushie behind, I raised myself off the closet floor and shook the clothing off my body. With a nervous grin and a lump in my throat, I hesitantly pushed my closet door open and stepped out into my bedroom. The photo I tore up and the frame still remained on the floor as I crossed in front of my bed and made my way to the door.

Cracking it open, I carefully stepped into a dimly lit hallway with a small whimper in my voice. Knocked down from the walls they once hung on, my family photos laid scattered on the wood floor along with their broken picture frames. The bulb which lit the corridor flickered uncontrollably as I nervously tried to carefully tread over glass. It softly crunched underneath the weight of my hooves.

As I gradually approached where my father was, I heard his cries grow louder along with my nerves. I knew he couldn’t be doing that for a good reason. Something bad happened, and the thought of what that bad thing was now scared me. What could be so bad that it got my father, the pony who taught me to be tough and stand for myself, to cry?

I then turned the corner and froze dead in my tracks.

I felt the overwhelming chill of death gently brush through my coat and mane. It petrified me the moment my eyes laid upon the scene in the living room. It was a disaster beyond my imagination. From the from the busted lights to the cups and paper that cluttered the floor and over the large rug, I’ve never seen this room completely destroyed before. But the scenery wasn’t the sight that left me still and speechless.

I saw my mother’s body on the floor, curled up next to the torn-up window curtains. Blood trickled down from her stomach and collected in a pool that stained the white carpet red. She laid there lifeless, and I cried out to her in dismay. She couldn’t be dead! Their had to be life left within her!

My outbursts caught the attention of my father. He had himself reclined against a lazy colt with a pale look painted on his face. Within an aura of his green magic, a gun floated inches from his head.

With tears flowing down from my eyes, I turned to him and asked, “How could this have happened?! How could she have been shot dead! That gun we have is a toy! It can’t be real!”

My dad didn’t respond, remaining silent while he shook his head in despair.

Every word and question I yelled at him brought unbearable guilt upon his conscience. I knew father was the one who killed my mother out of anger, to which he used to scream back at me with mental agony powering his voice. I cried out to him once more, causing my father to bury his face into his forehooves. He knew he had brought shame to himself. He knew how terrible it was for me, his only daughter, to discover my mother had died due to his own spite.

With every tear in my voice, I directly said to him, “If it has come down to this, where my mother now lays dead, then you’re no father to me anymore since a father would never kill my mother!”

Once I spoke those words, my dad remained completely silent in defeat. With his head bowed and eyes closed, my dad turned away from me and aimed the gun directly at his forehead. I desperately tried to use my magic to change the position of the weapon at the last second, but I was soon proven to be inferior to the strength of my dad’s spell.

With tears trailing in his eyes, he muttered the words, “I’m sorry.”

BANG!

I… I just froze in shock. I watched his body go limp while I remained dazed upon what I just saw. My ears rang from the gun fire. I couldn’t believe it actually sent a round directly into my father’s skull and killed him almost instantly. Just like my mother, he laid there lifeless as the gun dropped to the floor with a thud! Smoke could still be seen trailing from the barrel.

Time seemed to almost stop as my head pushed through the trauma that settled within my body. My heart raced as the sweat built-up underneath my coat. Once more, I felt the eerie chill of death run through the blood in my veins. My hooves began to shake while my tail flickered wildly. I panicked from not knowing what to do at that moment.

I then shook my head and tried to gain a bearing on reality once more. What ran across my mind first was the fact that I couldn’t leave my father on the chair to die by his own hoof. In what seemed like slow motion, I dashed over to him and stood beside the lazy boy. I then took my forehooves and pushed against his shoulders. I hoped it would stir and shake him wake.

With a crack in my voice, I told him, “This isn’t funny dad! This stunt you’re pulling is a cruel, cruel joke! Please, daddy! Please just wake up!”

Tunged and pulled at his legs as I pleaded for him to respond, “Please just wake up and talk to me! Whatever I did to deserve this act wasn’t fair!”

With a trembling voice, I asked, “Please, dad! Can you wake up? I’m sorry for what I said I earlier! I was a fool, and I never should have denounced you as my dad! That’s my fault, and I admit it! Now please, just wake up!”

I tugged at his legs a more few times before I gave up. Nothing seemed to work at the moment. Finally, I decided to punch him directly in the chest.

He didn’t spring up or come back to life in an instant. All his body did was flop against my punch before resettling in the chair. I tried once more, but yielded the same result. With a forced outcry from my quivering body, I struck him a third time with all the might I could muster.The result was the same as before. My dad’s body did nothing except be a punching bag.

The blood began to trail from where he shot himself down his face and onto his chest. I used the tip of a forehoof to touch a spot where the fluid had stained his coat. I then pulled it back and saw my hoof covered in his blood. My breath stuttered upon the site as I confirmed to myself that he was certainly dead.

I looked to where I placed my hoof on the floor and saw the gun he used to take his own life. Using my levitation magic, I flew within my sight before I threw it across the room in anger. The weapon he used was strangely familiar to me, and didn’t take more than a few seconds to confirm why I had that suspicion. The gun he used to kill himself was the same one I used to play with.

They were never toy guns to begin with.

My father had lied to me about how they never brought harm to anypony. He said these firearms were only for play, and could never be used to actually take another pony’s life. He covered up the truth and stated these guns were fake countless times.

I closed my eyes, pretending to not believe how my life had flipped upside down. To me, nothing made sense anymore. I swore I was living through a gruesome nightmare. All that’s gone wrong with my life has cascaded to the point where my mother and father are now dead.

With the weight of Equestria crashing down on my shoulders, I fell to the floor and crawled over towards my mother. All I wanted to do now was hug her close while murmuring the words to a lullaby she sang to me every night before I went to sleep. Grabbing her tightly and wrapping my hooves around her neck, I thought I’d confort her one last time since her sleep was eternal.

I softly sang my heart out. I felt it ache with my voice as it countlessly cracked upon the notes to “Hush Now, Quiet Now.” I didn’t care at all. Wanting to lay there and sing to my mother one last time, the tears flowed from my eyes once more. I even swayed my head to the rhythm of the song, mirroring how she presented it to me after I was tucked into bed.

I gave her one last kiss on the cheek before I got up and stood in the middle of the living room. Turning around, I gazed upon my mother and father and sighed. I lowered my head to the floor and felt one last tear drop to the carpet. I just lived through the worst night of my life. As much as I wanted mommy and daddy to come back from the dead and live once more, I knew I had to accept the reality;

Both of them are now gone.