Equestria Copes

When Rarity arrived in Ponyville, she was quickly able to find Sweetie Belle. That was her target, after all. Not by sight, as Sweetie had wrapped herself in a cloak and was keeping the hood up. Then again, it'd be pretty difficult to recognise Rarity in the outfit she was wearing, too. No, she could feel it. She was drawn to her.

"Sweetie Belle, I've been told you were in trouble," Rarity called to her.

Sweetie Belle didn't respond, just continuing to walk away.

"Oh, right..." Rarity moved closer and placed a hoof on Sweetie Belle's shoulder. "Sweetie Belle, you need to tell me what's wrong."

Sweetie pulled her shoulder away and started running faster, causing Rarity to have to speed up to keep up with her. It was very rarely that she was able to even touch Sweetie Belle's shoulder, much less strike up a conversation with her. She could barely say her name before Sweetie Belle pulled away.

Finally, Sweetie Belle slowed to a stop, in an area Rarity did not recognise. It was a very drab location, with a concrete floor and ceiling, and haphazardly-mortared brick walls. It also smelled awful. Why would Rarity have ever been here? More importantly, why was Sweetie Belle in here now?

The sound of hooves clopping against the floor echoed through the chamber they were in as a big, burly stallion approached. He looked and smelled like he hadn't bathed in a long time, nor had he shaved, and the way he eyed Sweetie Belle set off major alarm bells in Rarity's head.

"Run!" commanded Rarity, placing herself between the stallion and her sister.

But Sweetie didn't run. Instead, she pulled off her cloak and set it aside. She had bruises and scabs all over her body, and her voice was hoarse. "I'm ready."

"Then let's do it," said the stallion. "The mattress is just over here..."

Rarity swallowed hard, doing everything she could to keep Sweetie from doing what she was about to do. But as the mattress came into view, a rolled-up raincoat acting as a pillow and a bunch of rags threaded together to act as a blanket draped unceremoniously over the top, she turned away. As much as she wanted her sister to turn around and leave, she couldn't bring herself to watch what was about to happen. What had happened that would force Sweetie Belle down this gruesome path?

"Why does it have to be so big?" she grunted.

"I can't change the size of my body," the stallion breathed. "Just upright is good enough. Then you can show me how good you are with your hooves..."

Rarity felt sick to her stomach as she started to hear the impact of flesh hitting the ragged mattress. There was nothing more grotesque than what she knew in the back of her mind must be happening this very moment.

"Come on, Sweetie Belle, work it! Make sure you switch up your position. You'll know you're doin' it right if you feel yourself starting to sweat."

"It feels..." panted Sweetie Belle, "...harder than it did yesterday..."

"That just means you're improving. Keep going."

Where had Rarity gone so wrong? Where had her parents gone so wrong? Why was Sweetie Belle doing... this?

"Don't slow down, now," urged the stallion. "At least last until the end of the first round."

"This is... really tiring," gasped Sweetie Belle.

"Just one more big push, and then we can take a break. You can handle it."

The pace quickened, with the impacts coming more and more frequently until a small bell rang. Rarity dared to look at the situation behind the corner, expecting the worst.

It turned out to not be at all what she thought. The stallion had rolled up his mattress and stood it on end, and was holding it upright for Sweetie Belle to use as a punching bag. With the ringing of the bell, Sweetie moved over and sat on a stool while the stallion rolled the mattress back onto the ground.

"Thanks again for teaching me how to fight, Knuckle Duster."

"Not a problem, kid. Let me know when you're ready to pick it back up again."

She was boxing. Rarity had thought that... No, it didn't matter what Rarity had thought. Sweetie Belle had been striking a rolled up mattress, in an attempt to become better at fighting. Which meant that she was fighting. Which meant that the bruises and cuts on her body were not from being battered and forced to perform acts against her will. They were from fighting.

"Your blows were stronger this time," Knuckle noted. "I'm guessing she hit you again?"

Sweetie Belle nodded and indicated a fresh bruise. It was still red, having not turned purple yet.

"Did you hit her back this time?"

Sweetie Belle shook her head. "Everypony was watching me. I didn't want to make a scene..."

"Sounds like you already made one," he chuckled. "Rather, it appears that a scene was already made. Everypony was already watching you."

"Yeah, but that's the problem. Since they were all staring at me, I needed to be able to prove that I was strong enough to defend myself, or I'd just end up being made fun of again, like pouring salt on the wound that I was already beat up."

"You're probably stronger than she is by now," commented Knuckle. "Your form has definitely improved, too."

Now feeling slightly more confident that her sister was in good hooves, Rarity approached Sweetie Belle and placed her hooves on her shoulders. For once, Sweetie Belle didn't pull away, but she didn't react otherwise, either. "Who's been beating you up?"

Sweetie Belle sighed and hopped down from the stool, grabbing her cloak and pulling a bottle out of it, from which she drank. "Okay, let's do it."

Knuckle moved to the foot of the mattress and gestured for her to take her position. She lay down on her back with her knees bent and her hooves behind her head. He took hold of her ankles, and she started a set of sit-ups, touching each elbow to the opposite knee. She may not have answered Rarity's question, but she was thinking about it. She could tell by the determination in Sweetie Belle's eyes. She was going to hit that other filly, and she was going to mean it. That's why she'd come here. She was refusing to continue being a victim.