SCOOTS

Chapter 3: “That was way closer. We almost died, like, for real.”

My heart breaks a little as Junior opens the door to his room. A chunk of it crumbles away like stone under a chisel, turning to powder inside my chest. He calls it his bedroom but it looks more like a closet. A paper-thin wall is all that separates it from the kitchen, and all the syrupy smells waft in from next door, flooding my senses. I think of Pinkie Pie again, her usually cheery face twisting into a frown as I tell her AJ and Rainbow and I are going away for a long time. She cried then, in that dramatic way children do when they want attention. She cried for my loss, but there was something insincere about the tears rolling down her cheeks. I watched her eyes go puffy, and her bottom lip quiver, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was moments away from bursting into laughter.

That was the last time I ever saw Pinkie Pie. It was our final moment together. Sometimes I lie awake at night, and wonder if it was our first…

Junior is a messy pony. He apologizes to me as we step over mounds of dirty clothing and make our way to the bed hunching in the corner. Junior offers me a seat. His mattress is lumpy but at least the sheets are clean. The rest of his room looks like a crime scene minus the caution tape. The carpet is stained in several spots. The wallpaper has started to peel, looking like shreds of a torn dress worn by an abused mare. Neglect has the room looking wounded. Lonely. Judging by the lack of upkeep, I’d guess this place hasn’t been graced by a lady’s presence in ages. Good. That makes things easier on me.

The big lug mutters another apology as he shoves a mound of junk under his bed, clearing a spot on the floor where he intends to sleep. Then he asks me if I need anything: something to eat, a glass of water, some extra blankets. I answer with a headshake.

“Let me get your coat,” he says, embarrassed that he forgot to take it at the door. I recoil when he touches my shoulders and hug myself again. Then I flash my best guilty look and turn away like I’m too ashamed to meet his gaze. It takes all of two seconds for Junior to bite. He sits down beside me and asks what’s wrong.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you,” I say, feigning the note of reluctance in my voice. “I didn’t come here because I had no place to go. I need your help.”

“What is it?” he asks, tensing up. I don’t answer at first. I let him wait. Let him stew in it.

He inches closer like a colt afraid to put his foreleg around his date's shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Twily.” His voice comes out gruff with barely stifled desire. I don’t know why he does it. Why he tortures himself. He’s not fooling anypony. He wants me. I know he does.

“I still intend to find what I’m looking for,” I say. “I may have lost Dash and AJ, but I still have my plans. I’m not done yet.”

“What plans?” Junior says stupidly. I lean into him. He leans away.

The hell are you doing, dumbass? Touch me, damn it!

My heart beats faster. My stomach lurches, then squeezes itself into a golf ball. “I need a specific drug,” I explain, forcing the words out of a dry mouth.

Junior’s head tilts slightly. “Why would I be able to help you with something like that?” he says defensively.

Ponyfeathers, you’re losing him Twilight, I think as Junior pulls even further away.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me,” I say, shrinking my voice to a mouse’s squeak, reeling him back in. “I know it’s not your fault. I know how Filthy Rich’s thugs force you to house their drugs here in your bar. It’s awful what they make you do.”

That’s a lie; nopony is forcing Junior to play ball with the local drug dealers. The truth is he cut a deal with them. Junior is a model citizen with a spotless record and a flawless reputation. Nopony would ever suspect him of throwing in with the neighborhood pushers, which makes him valuable to them. He lets the hoods store their product at his place whenever the streets heat up and the cops start cracking down harder than usual. And for his cooperation he gets a cut of the drug money.

“How do you know about that?” If Junior sees through my lie, he doesn’t let on. He likely thinks I’m just misinformed—and the white knight in him will never admit that he willing breaks the law.

“I’ve been…” I stop short and let him put the pieces together himself.

“You have been getting into trouble again.”

“No more than usual.”

“Twily,” he sighs. I wish he would stop calling me that. We aren’t kids anymore, and even then I hated it. “Filthy Rich is a dangerous pony.”

“Filthy isn’t my concern. He doesn’t handle his own dirty work. He doesn’t even live in Fillydelphia.”

“But his enforcers do. He’s got ponies running his businesses all over Equestria.”

“Exactly. A criminal network with that kind of reach is just what I need,” I explain. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about these thugs, it’s that they take care of each other. They fight each other. They know each other. They hide from the rest of us, but they can’t hide from each other. And a network as big as Filthy’s must be nearly all-inclusive. I’ll bet a pony can’t stick up a liquor store without Filthy hearing about it.”

“And the ponies that answer to him…you really think they can help you find…” Junior’s voice trails off. His words die in his throat long before they reach my ears.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say. “But I know you’ll help me. You’ve always helped me in the past.”

“You’re asking a lot of me, Twily,” he says.

“I know. I don’t have any money, but I can pay you, Junior.” I take one of his hooves and place it on my naked thigh. “I can pay you…” My skin crawls. Junior suffers a mild panic attack.

“W-what are you doing, Twily?” He jumps off the bed. Furious, I do the same, following him. He starts to say something else just as I rope my forelegs around his neck and pull him into a rough kiss. He fights me at first. Tries to push me away. Then he stands up on his hind legs, and his mouth opens, and his tongue glides over mine. Thick forelegs circle my waist. Eager hooves slip under the folds of my heavy trench coat, fondling my hips, my dock, and the matching starburst cutie marks on my flanks.

I try to pull him back to the bed but we stumble, dancing an awkward lust-drunken waltz before tumbling to the floor. I land on my back and Junior lands on me. His chest heaves against mine. He’s so heavy I can hardly bare his weight. Hardly breathe. His mouth opens, wide and greedy as he kisses me that same hungry way Inky kissed me all those nights ago. Our lips part long enough for a few heavy breaths to blast my face. Warm my cheeks. I stroke the back of his mane and tilt my head, pulling him into another rough kiss—licking his tongue, and biting his bottom lip, and breathing in his scent, and tasting him. Junior smells like Pinkie Pie. He tastes like her sisters. Like hunger and selfishness.

A little voice in the corner of my mind screams. It reminds me that Junior is big and strong and that he’s kissing me. That he’s licking me, holding me, stroking me, tasting me, smelling me…

…Touching me, touching me, touching me…

I tell the voice to shut up. When it doesn’t I start rocking my hips, dry humping Junior until the member poking my pelvis stiffens. I show the voice that I don’t care. That I like it. That I want to be touched again. I can take it. I’m not fragile. Not precious.

Touching me! The voice screams, calling my bluff. Touching me!

Junior moans into my open mouth, rocking his hips, rubbing his member against the folds of my entrance.

Lips and teeth graze my neck.

My skin crawls. A thousand fire ants creep through my fur, biting me all over.

Touchingmetouchingmetouchingmetouchingmetouchingmetouchingme!

I try to ignore the voice, but it repeats the words over and over. Too loud and too rapid—and over and over and over and over and over and over…

Shut up! I tell the voice. This is what I want! Leave me alone!

I scissor my hind legs around Junior’s waist, rocking against him harder now, whishing he was inside me. Whishing I could feel him—feel something, anything that isn’t fear or disgust at the thought of being touched.

I rock my hips.

My skin crawls.

I rock my hips.

The ants creep through my fur. Their hairy legs make me itch. Their pincers sting.

I screw my eyes shut, and my hips rock, and my mouth mashes against Junior's, graceless and hot and lusty. I hold him. Moan for him.

Junior rocks against me too. Then he stops suddenly. He breaks our sloppy kiss—and he splays my hind legs—and he grabs hold of his penis—and he strokes it once, twice, then guides it toward my warm entrance. My warm, inviting hole. Begging to be stuffed. Begging to be pleasured. To be wanted.

“Tell me…you want me…Junior.” My voice comes out strange and gnarled, my words separated by huffing pants. The sound stops Junior cold. His eyes glaze over, like he’s not sure what he’s looking at. Then he wipes flecks of sweat from his brow and sighs.

“No,” he says, more to himself than to me. “I don’t want you. Not like this.” He stands up dreamily and wanders to the other end of the room, leaving me lying on my back, panting.

“You liar!” I rise on shaky legs. “You’re no different from them. No—you’re worse. The Pies are monsters but at least they were honest. They didn’t lie about wanting to have their way with me.”

Junior doesn’t say anything. He stands silently and stares at a picture on the wall. It’s a portrait of him and his father.

“Look me in the eye,” I say. “Turn around, and look at me, and tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you’re different from them.”

“How are you even comparing the two?” he says, his gaze still fixed on the picture.

“What?” I shout, marching over to him. “What did you say? Don’t cheapen this, Junior. Don’t play games with me.”

His head lowers. His ears wilt, folding against the sides of his head. Then he sucks back a heavy breath and turns to face me like a stallion. Like the stallion he’s always pretending to be.

“Listen to yourself, Twilight. You’re not thinking straight. How are you comparing me to them? I have…” He struggles with the words for a few moments. They didn’t struggle. They came right out and said it. “I have feelings for you, Twily. I always have. Every since we were kids.” He struggles. They didn’t struggle. They were honest.

“They had feelings for me too,” I say bitterly. Junior’s eyes widen. He looks at me like I’m not making any sense. But he’s wrong. I’m making perfect sense. For the first time in my life, everything is making perfect sense. “Of course they had feelings for me. They even said so—just like you did.”

“They violated you, Twilight,” he says, shaking his head in pale-faced horror. “They raped you. They didn’t have feelings for you. Pinkie’s sisters… They wanted to hurt you.”

“That’s why they hurt me,” I say, frustrated that Junior doesn’t understand. “It’s Because they had feelings for me. Because they wanted me. Everypony who wants me hurts me. It’s why you’re hurting me right now.”

Junior’s head tilts in confusion. His eyes soften. “…Oh, Twily…” he pulls me into a gentle hug that makes me want to jump out of my fur. “What did they do to you? I’m so sorry. I wish I could… Oh Celestia, I’m so sorry.” He holds me for a long time. Then he lets me go and wipes his face, smearing his cheeks with fresh tears before saying, “You needed something right? A drug, you said. What was it? What did you need?”

“I don’t need anything from a liar.” I spit the last word in his face.

“Come on, Twily, I want to help. Just tell me what you need.” His voice comes out all lonely and tired and beaten. I search his face for deceit and find plenty. But he’s right. I do need that drug.

“It’s not really a drug. It’s a potion that temporarily renders a unicorn’s magic useless,” I explain. “I was told you would have something like that.”

“Told by who?” He waits for me to answer. I don’t. “Never mind. Yeah, I have it.”

He turns around and looks at the portrait of him and his father. His horn glows. The framed painting drifts away, revealing a hidden combination safe embedded in the wall. He twists the dial, stops a moment to think—like maybe he’s forgotten the combination—then he twists it again and swings the metal door open. The safe is full of bottles. Bottles of pills and liquids, all bearing nondescript labels. I stare inside the metal box. Then at the back of Junior’s neck.

My left hoof slips into my right sleeve, reaching for something cold and cruel. I almost cry. Almost.

“Is it true what you said, Junior?” I pull the ash-black garrote from my sleeve and rear up on my hind legs. “Is it true that you don’t want me?” The wire goes taut between a pair of sad hooves.

“It is, Twily. I would never lie to you.” Junior says the words but he doesn’t turn around and face me. He doesn’t look me in the eye. He can’t. He stares into the mouth of the open safe, sobbing quietly.

He tries to whisper one more apology, but the time for that is behind us now. It’s too late. The wire is already slipping around his neck.

Twi’s been gone a while. It’s gettin’ late.

Rainbow and Ah are still standin’ 'round in the cold. We was talkin’ ‘bout the state of things not too long ago, but all that talkin’ and ponderin’ has us plum tuckered out now. Rainbow especially. Ah’m starin’ into her big beautiful eyes, watchin’ her blink away tears and painful memories, when Ah hear a knockin’ sound come from inside the trunk. Ma heart skips like a scratched record, and ma head spins, and the memory of Twilight stuffin’ a stallion in the trunk earlier tonight comes rushin’ back with a taunt and a chuckle. Twi clocked him good and knocked him out cold. He’s awake now, and Ah reckon he ain’t none too happy ‘bout being stuffed in a trunk for the better part of the night.

Rainbow don’t waste a second. She shoves me aside, swearin’ as she drops down into a fightin’ stance.

The knockin’ gives way to a muffled cry. Then the trunk lid gets to glowin’ bright pink in the center before a blast of light blows it into the sky. The slab of metal cartwheels through the air for a spell, then smashes on the hood of another parked car. Ah look to Rainbow. Her eyes flick from the trunk, to me, then back to the trunk. Then her wings spread mighty quick, kickin’ up a small wind that rustles her trench coat. She pushes her hat down till its snug on her head and lets’ a fiery grin wipe away the sad look she was wearin’ not one minute ago. Her eyes turn into sparkles, all bright and wild with the excitement. And then she’s gone. The moment takes her.

Ah try to follow Rainbow’s lead and strike a fightin’ pose myself, but ma legs are already shakin’ somethin’ powerful. The unicorn stallion in the trunk—the one Twi knocked out and stuffed in the car during our scrap with Filthy’s thugs—he ain’t right in the head. He’s got a gaze like this pegasus Ah used to know, all crossed eyed so you ain’t never sure what he’s lookin’ at. He can’t talk proper, neither. Sometimes his words come out soundin’ longer than they should. And he’s got this wail. This right ghastly banshee-shriek. Twi said his name was Soprano. Ah reckon it suits him.

Soprano lets out a furious wail as he climbs out the trunk. His legs are long. They seem to unravel as they come down on the sidewalk, like ropes bein’ lowered out a window. He’s the tallest unicorn Ah ever seen, only a hair sorter than either of the princesses. It’s a wonder Twilight managed to stuff him in trunk at all.

Rainbow makes a dash for Soprano, rammin’ him head on and crushin’ him between her shoulder and the rear bumper. He shrieks as Rainbow grabs hold of his thin barrel and flips him onto his back. Ah watch his long legs kick at Dash’s head, missin’, hittin’ nothing but empty air. She’s too quick for him. Laughin’, Rainbow stomps his mouth, shuttin’ him up for a spell. Ah shake the fear out ma limbs and follow Rainbow’s lead, chargin’ forward and tellin’ myself there’s nothin’ to be scared of. It’s two against one, and Rainbow’s mighty tenacious in a scrap. She’s already got the feller on his back. We can handle this, Ah tell myself. We can handle this.

Rainbow stomps him again, grinnin’ her fiery grin. Soprano wails. Ah’m a step away from joinin’ in on Dash’s fun, when suddenly Soprano’s horn flashes. Bright light burns mah eyes and Ah go blind. Somethin’ that ain’t there grabs ma tail and chucks me like Ah don’t weigh a thing. A second high-pitched scream wallops ma eardrums. It mixes with Soprano’s, fillin’ the empty parkin’ lot like somethin’ tangible, as Ah flip through the air like a tossed coin. Air rushes. The world spins in slow motion. By the time Ah realize the second scream is comin’ form me, Ah’ve already dented the roof of Rainbow’s car with ma spine. Pain darts up ma back, laughin’, enjoyin’ itself plenty as a bounce off metal and then thud against concrete. A moment later ah hear a second thud that can only be Dash hittin’ the pavement.

Ah’m lyin’ on ma back, tryin’ to re-teach myself how to breath, when Ah see a rainbow shoot across the sky and try wrap itself around a streetlight. It makes a wicked pingin’ sound, then drops to the floor in a heap. It’s not till Soprano trots toward it that Ah realize the fallen in rainbow is Dash. Ah see under the streetlight, grinnin’ at some secret joke as she struggles to stand.

Ah try to stand myself, but the pain in ma back keeps me glued to ground. The best Ah can manage is rollin’ onto ma stomach.

“Stuff me in a trunk, huh? I’ll learn yaaaaa! I’ll learn ya goooodd!  St—st—stupid dykeeeee!” Soprano’s wail bursts into a slew of curses and slurs as he kicks Rainbow clean on the jaw. Her head snaps back and she falls onto her side, still smilin’ at her secret joke. “Do you know who I am? Who I work fooorr?! Who my family works foooooorr?!” he sheiks.

The unicorn pummels Rainbow. She takes her lumps like a champ. She’s all courage and bravado, that one. There’s nothin’ but fight in her.

Ah try to hurry to Rainbow’s rescue, tellin’ ma body to stop messin’ around and get up. But it’s no good. The pain in mah back is too much. Ah can’t move.

“Rainbow…” Ah try to shout her name but the words leave ma mouth quiet as prayer. Hopeless front legs drag me forward. Ah grit ma teeth and haul myself, crawlin’ on ma belly like the useless thing Ah’ve become. Twilight was right. Ah have changed. Ah’m weaker now. Slower. Dumber. Ah couldn’t keep the knife from slidin’ between Spike’s ribs. Ah couldn’t stop Inky and Blinky from hurtin’ Twilight—and Ah can’t stop this piece of trash from beatin’ Rainbow to death. Ah’m useless. Twi was right all along. She always is.

An earsplittin’ holler tears out of ma throat. A belly-deep, soul-shakin’ scream, like a somethin’ out of a night terror. Ah let it out. The anger, the frustration, the helplessness, and the fear—it all comes gushin’ out of me. Everything Ah am spills onto the sidewalk—and it keeps spillin’ till there ain’t nothin’ left. When the holler finally fizzles out the old apple-buckin’ farmhand from Ponyville is gone. She ain’t nothin’ no more. Nothin’ but a lame horse.

The unicorn hears ma holler climb above his own, and his head cocks likes it’s on a swivel. He faces me, his horn glowin’, his lazy eyes rollin’ in his head. Pink light halos around his pale face—and the face wails—and Ah screw ma eyes shut, waitin’ for it.

While Ah’m waitin’ Ah hear Soprano’s shriek change. It ain’t his usual angry, frustrated whinin’ no more. He yips like a hurt puppy at first, then starts makin’ these wet chokin’ noises. Ah open ma eyes and see Twilight ridin’ him like a buckin’ bull, that cruel black wire garrote of hers tied tight around his neck.

He tries to throw her off but Twi scissors her hind legs around his barrel and pinches her thighs. He bucks. Hacks. Wheezes. Flecks of spit dribble down the corner of his mouth. His eyes glaze. His legs buckle. They fold beneath him as falls on his side, lookin’ like a tangled mess of rope piled on the ground.

Twi breaks her scissor hold. In the dim glow of the streetlights Ah watch her take Soprano’s mane between her hooves, lift his head, then drive his face into the ground. She does it repeatedly, liftin’ and drivin’ till a red puddle forms where Soprano’s muzzle keeps strikin’ the pavement. When she gets board of smashin’ his face, Twi grabs one of them long forelegs and twists it behind the unicorn’s back. He yips, beggin’ Twi to stop. She doesn’t. She’s past stoppin’. She’s in too deep now. Twi’s up to her neck in evil, but it still ain’t enough to sate her. She won’t stop till all that anger and hatred rises up over her head. Till it covers the scar beneath her bangs, that jagged wound in her skin—in her mind—that marks the spot where her horn should be.

Trapped in a painful daze Ah watch Twi twist the unicorn’s foreleg till his shoulder gives with a nasty pop. Then she lays the leg on the ground and braces her heel against the knee. The unicorn screams for mercy, but Twi don’t pay him no mind.  She pulls the limb toward the sky, bendin’ it a way it ain't meant to bend. Soprano wails. Begs. Twilight don’t make a sound. She’s quiet and expressionless the whole time, pickin’ him apart like a kid pullin’ the legs off an insect.

Ah try to speak up and ask her to stop but the words hide in ma throat, afraid, not wantin’ to find Twilight’s ears. She goes to work on his second foreleg. Watchin’ her makes me so sick Ah have to look away. Ah’m not like Twi or Rainbow. Ah’m not brave enough to chance a gander into the abyss.

Eventually Soprano passes out and Fillydelphia goes quieter than the Everfree Forest at night. There ain’t no noise except for Rainbow’s groanin’, ma own heavy breathin’, and the barely-there clop, clop of Twi’s hooves ghostin’ along the ground as she trots toward me. Ah tilt ma head up and see Twilight standin’ overhead, her eyebrows lookin’ like a pair of flat lines. There aint a shred of concern showin’ in her face.

“Get up and help Spike out of the backseat,” she says, her voice as flat as her eyebrows.

“Ah…Ah think Ah hurt ma back,” Ah say, tryin’ to stand again and failin’ somethin’ awful. “Help me, Twi. Ah can’t get up…”

Twilight don’t say nothin’; she just shakes her head and trots back to the fallen unicorn. She drapes  Soprano across her shoulders, wearin’ him like a cape as she makes a beeline for Junior’s place.

“I’ll be inside taking care of this piece of trash,” she says as she walks by. “Let me know when you and Rainbow are done being useless.”

“Twi, please,” Ah mutter, soundin’ all kinds of pathetic. “Ah can’t get up…”

She stops cold. Drops the unicorn. Trots up to me. Kneels down and offers me a helpin’ hoof.

When ah reach for Twi’s hoof she pulls it away harshly.

“It doesn’t feel too good when your friend isn’t there for you, does it?” She runs a bloody hoof through her bangs, stain’ the spot on her forehead where her horn should be. “I hope the damage isn’t permanent.”

“Punk,” Rainbow mutters through a mouthful of blood. She can’t seem to get up either.

Twilight turns to face Rainbow. “I’ll be inside when you work up the nerve to say that to my face,” she says. Then she picks up the unicorn and walks off, leavin’ me and Rainbow to lick our wounds.

Ah look all around, suddenly worried that our ruckus might’a earned us some unwanted attention from the cops. Thankfully Ah don’t see any blue suits. There ain’t nothin’ to see but a busted-up Rainbow Dash and her busted-up car.

It feels like hot dragon teeth are chewin’ on ma spine, but Ah suck it up, grit ma teeth and manage to crawl closer to Rainbow. She’s lyin’ face up, smilin’ at the stars with a bloodstained mouth.

“You all right, Rainbow?” Ah ask.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but she answers me all right. A laugh creeps up her throat, and Ah see her stomach contract violently as her body pushes it out. It’s a deep, unnervin’ belly laugh. Hearin’ it gives me a fright much worse than Twilight with her blank face and her garrote.

“I definitely felt that,” she laughs. “That was way closer. We almost died, like, for real.”

Ah stare at Rainbow for a spell, watchin’ her cover her face as the laugh shakes her from the inside. When Ah can’t stand no more Ah roll over and look at nothin’ at all. Ma gaze roams free across the empty lot till it falls on Rainbow’s car. It’s full of holes. The trunk is gone. The roof is dented. It’s startin' to look like us, Ah think. All beat to hell and back. All ugly and misshapen and less than it was at the start of this crazy journey.

Ma eyes fix on the license plate. It’s still there. It’s danglin’ off the back of the car, but it’s still there...