The first thing was that it was cold. The officer sat in front of me behind a rather simple desk. Though the sounds of ruffling paper should have been quiet, they were amplified by the sheer solidness of the room. My ears twitched at the acoustics. The humming of the air conditioning, the shuffling of the papers, the movement of clothes, even the breathing, were all deafening yet quiet at the same time.

I said nothing as I watched the stallion. He was burly, obviously having sat down a long time, but not unfit. His black uniform reminded me of a police uniform, but this lacked a shining metal badge in favor of a machine-stitched embroidered emblem at the chest. The sleeves of his front hooves, at the shoulder, had similar emblems. From this angle I couldn't quite tell what they said, though I could see the colors of the Ponyville County flag. The shirt was unbuttoned right before the collar, and a pen was clipped there.

I watched as the pony shuffled papers about with his hooves. Though he lacked a horn, the dexterity of his appendages said he had done this a lot.

“Alright, filly,” he said, not tired, but not enthusiastic, just routine, “Name?”

Name? Name…

“S-weetie Belle,” I stammered. The question caught me off guard with its simplicity. I guess I didn't expect it. Then again, I don't know what to expect at all. Silence befell the room again as he wrote on a page laying before him.

“Equestrian Identification Number?” He asked, looking up expectantly.

“Z-zero six eight, three s-seven five, z-zero four three two,” I managed. I noticed I was shivering. It was cold, but I didn't think it was that cold.

The officer wrote yet again, this time for a bit longer. I could see him checking boxes and filling things out. I guess this was some sort of identification paper. He paused and looked up at me again.

“Taxpayer Identification Number?” a pause… “If you don't know it, it’s fine.”

“I-I don't, I’m sorry sir,” I managed to squeak, my voice low. Some more writing, and he flipped a page. He breathed and shuffled in his seat, obviously finished with that paper.

“W-why am I here, sir?” I said finally after a moment of silence. He looked up at me, both the glint of hardness yet sympathy in his eyes.

“That isn't for me to know, Belle. Your caseworker will handle your case, though your pod officer will be able to tell you your specific charge once he receives the paperwork,” He explained matter-of-factly. He slid out a piece of paper, clipped it under a clipboard, and hooved it to me.

At first I faltered, forgetting I was unable to grab it with my magic. I reached my hooves out and took it, and took the plastic pen he hoofed me into my mouth.

“When you’re finished make sure to put a signature at the bottom. Please fill it out as ‘most relatable’ to ‘most unrelatable’, and be perfectly honest.”

I nodded and looked down at the sheet. It read “Psychological and Emotional Evaluation” at the top in imperfect lettering. It was clear this form had been photocopied many times over.
The questions asked things like “Have you had any loss in the family lately,” and “Have you recently been experiencing depression,” to “Do you have many friends at school,” and “Are you hopeful about your future.” I answered them honestly, but… not really. I had a feeling they were using this to gauge if I was suicidal or not. I knew I wasn’t, but I felt that if I answered truthfully on some questions they would deem me as such, and that’s the last thing I wanted.

After a few minutes I had the form filled out and, having asked the officer the date, dated and handed back. He took the paper, unclipped them from the clipboard, and put some more on, handing the board back to me.

“These are medical consent forms,” He explained, “It allows us to treat you and test you for cutiepox.” I nodded and signed the papers. The next one asked for any allergies or known medical issues, to which I all answered ‘No’.

The officer put the paper in a folder then proceeded to stand, walking around the desk. My eyes followed him all the way. I wasn't scared, or worried, I guess I was just wondering and waiting for what happened next, trying to be as cooperative and still as possible. He walked to a door at my right, and cracking it he hollered for another pony to come.

“Sweet Creame, could you come to Intake please?” he asked politely yet with authority. Soon, a brown earth mare with a golden mane appeared in the door. “We need to do a cough check and search on her,” he explained to her.

The mare walked briskly to a solid blue door to my left and opened it. Inside it was a bit dark, but I could tell it was tiled.

“Come on, filly,” she simply commanded as she pulled some plastic hoof covers on. Hopping off my plastic chair, I briskly trotted to the room, which was darker than I expected. I guess the light above was just going out or something. It was small and tiled, and simply square. As I went in, the stallion deposited a neat stack of clothing, a towel, and an opened plastic bag on the floor just inside the door then exited, closing the door until it was just cracked open.

The mare stood in front of me, her figure a little imposing, and her straight face not doing her any favors.

“Go ahead and take off all of your clothes one piece at a time starting with your shirt, and hoof each item to me,” she stated authoritatively. I did as she said. Stripping my upper pj’s off, I felt the cold air of the room against my bare fur and shivered. I handed the item to the officer, who proceeded to shake it and run her hoof along it, then plop it into the opened bag on the floor. I proceed to my socks, and then finally my bottoms. Though I didn't normally wear clothing, I felt nude and exposed in front of the mare, and nervously shifted on my hooves as she deposited the last bit of clothing in the bag.

“I am going to touch my hoof to your groin like this,” she said, making a cupping gesture with her gloved hoof, “To check for contraband items. I will ask you to turn your head and cough. I don't want girly coughs, I want real coughs, got it?” she explained. I nodded nervously.

“Stand.” She commanded. I stood, wobbling on my back hooves but gaining a steady balance quickly. The mare walked up, reached her hoof out, and touched me. “Cough.” she ordered. I coughed twice, turning my head like she had asked. “Cough.” she said again, and I coughed twice again.
After this the mare backed away, and I returned to all fours. The mare opened the door and shuffled out. Turning around, she pointed to the pile of clothes and said “Shower and then put these on. You have five minutes. Make sure to shower well.”
I nodded again and shuffled towards the pile as she closed the door. Without the light from the cracked door, it was even moodier.
I picked up a small bar of soap in my hooves that had been laying on the towel and trotted to the other side of the room. A small nozzle protruded from the wall. It wasn't like a usual showerhead, it was just a small, bullet-shaped nozzle with a hole in it, angled down. Looking down, I saw a button and not a dial. Having thoroughly studied it for a few seconds, I set the towel and soap down away from where I thought the affected area would be, turned, and pressed the button.

I shrieked as the freezing-cold water hit me, jumping back and breathing hard. I stared at the flowing water for a moment as I recovered, it shooting out much like a garden hose than the showers I was used to.

Figuring I had no choice, I stepped forward into the cold stream. It immediately sucked the breath out of my lungs but I powered through. Grabbing the soap, I noticed it was on a small washcloth, so I used that to scrub myself down.

In the middle of scrubbing my back legs after having lathered my front, the stream suddenly stopped. I looked at it, a bit confused for a second, and then pressed the button again. The water continued, and I continued scrubbing.

Having rinsed and dried, I went to put the clothes on. And what I mean by ‘clothes’ I mean one single piece of clothing: an orange jumpsuit. It was obviously a little worn, with the black buttons on the front having been rubbed to brass. I slipped it on and buttoned each button, their metal cold against my fur.

Stepping out of the room with the towel, washcloth, and soap neatly folded atop my back, I walked back over to the desk. The mare was gone and the stallion sat there doing more paperwork.

Immediately, though, he got up, leaving his pen on the desk, took the stuff on my back, set it next to the desk, and walked towards yet another door. Picking up what looked to be some folded blankets sitting there, he plopped them on my back.

“Right this way, Belle,” He voiced, holding the door open. I trotted out, the hallway beyond consisting of the same gray linoleum tile and white-painted cinder blocks.

“Left,” he said, and I trotted left, him following closely behind. We came at a junction and I stopped. On the wall was black lettering:

← Cluster II
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ Cluster III & IV →

“Right,” the officer directed, and I trotted. More hallway, and before me lay a large blue steel door. Stopping at it, the officer walked up and pressed a button.
Wheiiirschlick it emanated, and the officer opened it. Beyond was a hallway branching off around an octagonal hub with an open door, and two officer ponies were sitting inside at what looked to be control panels, thick glass windows all around them. They looked at us as we walked by, my officer directing me to the right. He opened another, smaller door labeled ‘D-Pod’, to a large room with dimmed lights.

Inside sat three square metal tables with connected metal seats, a J-shaped desk to the right, and a high ceiling. The room was shaped like an odd trapezoid. The back wall ran perpendicular to the hallway we walked in through, and on it were nine large blue doors with windows, each numbered ‘D1’ through ‘D9.’ To my left, running at an odd angle towards the back were ten, eleven, and twelve. I could only assume these were jail cells…

The ninth cell in the back was open, a dim light inside of it. Walking towards it, the officer held the door open and motioned for me to enter. As I entered, I saw it was just as simple as everything else. Hard floor, brick walls, a metal toilet and sink, and a concrete slab with what looked like a sort of bare mattress on it.

SLAM!

I jumped and spun around as the door behind me shut. It wasn't actually a slam, but the sound of it was loud enough to truly startle me.

I turned back, taking the linens off my back and walking over to the bed. Unfolding the sheets and linens, I dressed the bed neatly and prettily, tucking in the sheets and blanket tight, ignoring my hooves shaking the entire time.

When I was satisfied with my work, I climbed up and shimmied under the covers, closing my eyes.

For the first time since I entered the cold walls of the facility, I cried, my quiet sniffles and whimpers reverberating off the hard concrete as the sheets beneath me caught my tears.

There was not a pillow to lay my head.

Author's Note

And there we go, first story ever published to Fimfic! I have a few more chapters already written, but I need to check over them first, and I do in fact plan to finish this story, in time.
I hope you all enjoy

And do give your local sweetie belle a hug