“Vinyl, what the hay do you think you’re doing? Get up, idiot!”

Seventeen-year-old Vinyl Scratch stretched groggily in her bed. Barely bothering to reposition the contrasting dark-and-light blues of her mane, she and yawned loudly and half-opened her deep violet eyes. “Mmmph... Five more minutes…” she mumbled dreamily.

Somepony jerked the sheets on her left side with so much force that she flipped out of the small, badly maintained bed and landed spread-eagle on the rotting floorboards. “Buck that. You get up when I’ll say you get up, and I say get up now.” Scotch Records downed a quarter bottle of cider before glaring distastefully at his daughter, who was still holding tightly onto her bed sheets. “Did you hear me? I said move it, you dirty pile of dragon scat! Get out of my sight!”

Vinyl looked wearily at her father. He used to be a handsome stallion, his honey-brown coat, rugged brown mane and deep blue eyes attracting many a prospective mare. Now, his coat and mane were a grayish mud color, and he spent most of his days inside his old, dilapidating house, never bothering see the sun unless to gamble at the casino, drop by the bar, or buy more booze.

“Listen to Scotch! Get your flank out of here before we kick it out!” Vinyl rose slowly to a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. She looked over to see her father’s marefriend standing side-by-side with him. Wonderful, she thought. Stepmom number - what, 27? - and no different than all the rest: just here for the nights.

Vinyl stood painfully onto all fours, shaking her head to clear it of any drowsiness. Ignoring her two unwanted companions, she strapped on her saddlebag and silently left, the screen door slamming shut behind her.

Scotch snorted. “Finally. I swear, seven hours a day is not enough.”

“Definitely.” Stepmom # 27 nuzzled up to him.

“I could’ve at least had a daughter with a useful talent. DJ-ing? Not really much money in that.”

She rubbed her head against his neck. “That’s a shame…” she murmured softly into his ear. “But now… where did we leave off…?”

Scotch got the hint and grinned wolfishly. “Hmm… I don’t remember.” He put a hoof around her waist, and she raised an eyebrow.

She pulled away from his embrace and swayed towards the bedroom. “Then I guess we’d better start over, huh?” She looked back at him, eyes fluttering and a slow, playful smile creeping across her face. Her tail lifted ever-so-slightly in case he missed the tip-off.

He didn’t. “You’re such a tease.”

“And that’s why you love me.”

Scotch breathed heavily, through his nose. “Yeah.”

Wake up, here we go, cram it all down my throat,
stomach’s so full that I wish I could choke.
Seven AM, my head’s already in a spin.

Vinyl walked down the street, ignoring the cheap salesponies trying to sell her merchandise or the beckoning of a hoof from a nearby alley. The music was all that mattered to her right now, the music that pounded through her head, that pumped through her veins thicker than any blood. There was always a song in her head - always.

As soon as I’m out of that door,
Damn, it hits me like a ton of those red bricks,
can’t dig myself out of this
highest ditch,
this madness.

The music helped her cope. There was nothing that could soothe her more completely than a ballad, or some heavy metal, or dubstep. Anything, really. The DJ wasn't particular.

I swear sometimes, I can’t tell
which way is up, which way is hell.
It’s all up in my face, need to push it away,
somebody push it away!
So all that I can hear…
is a simple song…

As if on cue, the music in her head stopped as she reached the double doors that led into Manehattan Public High School. And all of the emotion came back with the absence of song.

The snow-white unicorn raised her chin up high, determined not to be affected. Briskly, she guided herself through the hall, the amethyst fire in her eyes warning anypony nearby of the dangers getting in her way would cause. Vinyl had a nasty habit of taking anger out on ponies she didn't like. Unfortunately for everypony, that was a great deal of the school.

Vinyl hadn't exactly had an easy foalhood - pretty much everypony in Manehattan knew her sob story. There had been no peace as a filly, constantly getting harassed by adults and foals alike. That is, until she had met -

“VINYL!” A mint-green blur tackled her and pinned her to the ground.

After the initial shock, Vinyl laughed. “Hey, Lyra.”

Vinyl had known Lyra Heartstrings as long as she could remember. The mint-green unicorn had befriended her with a directness she never forgot. Vinyl's eyes grew foggy at the memory...

Vinyl walked into the lonely little classroom, embarrassed. She knew the day was half over, but her father wouldn’t let her leave until her “chores” were finished, which consisted of scouring his room for empty liquor bottles. So she was late, and on her first day of school, too. Not to mention the fact that she smelled like stale alcohol and perspiration.

The teacher, a young red mare with golden mane, didn’t even acknowledge her presence. After a few moments of awkwardly standing by the door, Vinyl spoke. “Um, excuse me –“

“There’s a seat to your left,” was the curt reply.

Vinyl hesitated, then walked over to the seat the teacher had designated, which was next to a strong-looking lead-gray colt who looked at Vinyl with cruel eyes. Vinyl would much rather sit on the floor than next to this colt that looked like he wanted to punch her, but she sure as hay wasn’t going to disagree with the teacher.

As Vinyl approached the chair, he gave her a smile. Tentatively, she smiled back. He gestured for her to sit. Still smiling, she made to oblige…

Just as he pulled the seat out from under her.

The next thing Vinyl knew, she was lying with her back on the stone floor, legs wide apart and stunned to inaction. The entire class laughed hysterically, including the teacher.

Vinyl quickly closed her legs together and stood, face hotter than a noonday sun. Ashamed and embarrassed, she took her seat and buried her head in her arms.

Something happens, she thought, miserable. Something always happens.

She felt at tap at her left shoulder. Vinyl ignored it. No tears, she thought to herself. Tears just make it worse.

Another tap. Vinyl finally glanced up. Two bright amber eyes looked kindly at her, quickly followed by a genuine smile. Vinyl didn’t return it, not trusting this other pony for a second. She had probably been in on the joke.

The smile faltered the tiniest bit, then recovered. “Hi,” the mare said. “I’m Lyra. What’s your name?”

Vinyl hesitated. Then…- “Vinyl Scratch,” she whispered.

Lyra smiled “Hi, Vinyl!” She gestured at the colt who’d pulled the chair out from under Vinyl. “Don’t worry about Stone Rail – we’ll get him back later. He only pulls backwards pranks like that ‘cuz he doesn’t have the balls to go face-to-face.” She stuck her tongue out at the offending colt, who ignored her. “I’m thinking a swirlie. You?”

Vinyl giggled, a little too loudly. “Vinyl!” The teacher turned to her. “Is there something you’d like to tell the class?”

Vinyl opened her mouth, but then closed it. “I-I…” she stammered.

“…Was talking to Lyra,” Lyra finished for her before addressing the teacher. “It was me, Mrs. Holly. I was talking to Vinyl.”

The teacher looked aghast. “Lyra! I would think you were above interacting with this… this…” Mrs. Holly glanced at Vinyl distastefully. “…trash!”

Vinyl felt herself sink into her chair.

Lyra looked at the teacher for a long time, mouth partway open. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it. “You’re a bitch,” she had decided finally.

Vinyl smiled at the memory. Needless to say, it hadn’t ended well for either of them, but it brought Vinyl to a friend she planned on keeping for the rest of her life.

The golden-eyed mare leaped off Vinyl’s chest, shaking her green-and-white out of her eyes as Vinyl struggled to stand back up. “Vinyl, you’ll never believe it! I made the cut!”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped. “No way!”

“Way!” Lyra gave a little squeal of excitement. “I’m heading to Canterlot to meet Hoity Toity tonight!”

Vinyl’s eyes widened. “…Tonight?”

“Yes! Isn’t that great?!”

“Yeah!” Vinyl grinned with pride. “Lyra, that’s amazing!” Vinyl knew that Lyra had been trying for years-years-to get signed by Hoity Toity’s label, ‘Equestrian Conventional.’ The fact that she finally had was beyond amazing. It didn’t even cross Vinyl’s mind to be jealous: her friend, she knew, deserved this.

“And guess what the best part is?!”

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lyra, what could be better than this?”

Lyra took a deep breath, bear hugged Vinyl, and shouted at the top of her voice, “YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!”

Every passerby’s curious looks at the pair as they passed was lost on Vinyl. Everything was a blur, Vinyl's mind spinning so fast that it was a struggle to stay focused on one spot for too long. Everything was a hum of shock and happiness, and she couldn’t get her mouth to close. She couldn’t even think.

Lyra set her friend down. Vinyl didn't seem very enthusiastic. "Hey... you okay?"

Vinyl's jaw had to work for a few moments before she could say anything. Finally, she managed a word. “Wh…what?”

Lyra held Vinyl by the shoulders. “I sent one of your CD’s with mine! They loved it!”

“But… isn’t it a classical label?”

Lyra shook her head. “Yeah, but they said there are several ponies in Canterlot that they can send you to with good recommendations!”

“Lyra, I…” Vinyl swallowed, trying to overcome the lump in her throat, trying to think with a clear mind, trying to hold back the tears of joy that were struggling to rise. Her mind tried to convey the emotion, but her mouth wouldn't obey. She laughed at herself. "I... I really don't know what to say!”

“You don’t have to believe it!” Lyra shouted ecstatically. “In a few days, we’ll be in Canterlot, and you can see it for yourself!”

Vinyl grinned, ignoring her stinging eyes. “I can’t wait.”

Lyra paused, as if unsure about something, then asked delicately, “But… will your dad be okay with this?”

Vinyl’s smile wavered. “Y-yeah, he’ll be fine with it,” Vinyl stammered. “I mean, why wouldn’t he be? Any good parent wants their kid to follow their dream, right?”

“…Right,” Lyra conceded. “So, I guess just meet me at Grand Central Station tonight? Then we’ll be able to be there in… two days, I think.”

“Sounds good,” Vinyl said, relieved that the conversation’s subject had changed rather quickly. “And… Thanks, Lyra.”

“Don’t mention it,” The mint-green mare waved a hoof dismissively. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

The bell rung. Lyra glanced up at it in alarm. "Oh, crap! I gotta get to class. See you tonight, Vinyl!" With a final wave of her hoof, the mint-green mare took off galloping down the hall.

Vinyl watched her go, an irreversible smile creeping across her features.

The day could not end fast enough.

“You want to WHAT?!?”

“Scotch, honey, could you lower your voice a little? The neighbors-”

“To hay with the neighbors! This ungrateful mule of a daughter thinks she can just run off and join some salt-lick commune! I swear to Celestia, I’m gonna kick her lousy flank halfway to-”

Vinyl swallowed, then hardened her resolve. Bravely standing up to her father, she interrupted with as much self-control as she could manage. “It’s not a salt-lick commune, dad, it’s an audition, a chance for me to be somepony important for once! Why can’t you ever just let me-”

“I’m not gonna pay for your bail when you get thrown in prison for dealing in drugs to some idiot pony!”

“Dad, I’m not going to sell-”

“You’re not going to that audition, girl, and that’s final!”

Vinyl’s stomach clenched involuntarily, and in an uncontrollable tide of emotion, her resistance was swept away and her eyes flashed. “Why?” She spat. “So you can just milk me for bits the rest of my life?”

“Now look here-”

Vinyl cut him off, not tolerating him for even a second more. The words dropped off her tongue like coals, heavy as lead and laden with hate. “The reason I haven’t kept a job, Dad, is because every time I get one, I make next to NOTHING because you make me give you my paycheck EVERY BUCKING TIME so you can spend it on booze or waste it all on that damn casino!”

Her father ground his teeth. “Don’t raise your voice to me, girl,” Scotch seethed quietly. “You think I wanted a daughter?”

Vinyl blinked. “Wh…what?”

Scotch growled at her, like a dangerous animal unleashed from the depths of the Everfree Forest. “You. Were. An. Accident. I never wanted you. I didn’t even know you existed until you showed up on my doorstep with my name in the ‘sire’ section of your birth certificate. I looked for weeks for your mother to try and return you, but I never saw the bucking whorse again!” He struck Vinyl savagely on the cheek, and she fell to the ground. “Now get out of my sight before I decide to give you a chance to audition for Equestria’s Best Flyer competition,” he snarled. “I think out the roof would be a good place to start.”

Vinyl saw stars. As she tried to blink them away, she realized she was er body shook with a savage rage. Before she even knew what she was doing, her lips were moving. “Buck you,” she said quietly.

He leaned in towards her, sneering cruelly. “You. Wish,” he replied.

For some reason, that final statement pissed her off more than anything else. Her hoof began to move of its own accord, traveling far behind her head. Scotch’s eyes widened as he realized what she was doing, and made to yell. What am I doing? Vinyl wondered. He’s going to kill me. But she didn’t care. It was almost done.

With a scream of fury, Vinyl hauled back and slugged her father between the eyes.

Scotch Records stumbled backwards, complete disbelief covering every inch of his face.

The house was silent. No one said a word. Vinyl’s ragged breathing could be heard clearly, and her father opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. Finally, he spoke, the words soft at first, then bursting out with increasing speed and intensity.

“You…” Scotch’s brows knit in fury. His breathing accelerated twofold with every word. “You hit me. You goddamn punk! You UNGRATEFUL HOOLIGAN! YOU REEKING PILE OF DRAGON SCAT!” As he spoke, he rushed to the dilapidated kitchen, fumbling in the silverware drawer. “I’LL KILL YOU!” After a few moments, Scotch’s hooves found purchase on a large cleaver. The enraged pony spun to face his daughter.

Vinyl was nowhere to be seen, as she was already in her room the moment her father went galloping to the kitchen.

“That’s right, cower in your room, you little punk! If you were in my sight another second you wouldn’t be alive for me to yell at!” Scotch’s yells were muffled through the door, but Vinyl didn’t feel any safer inside a locked room as long as she was still in the same apartment with the homicidal maniac who was her father.

It took Vinyl less than five seconds to decide her course of action. Ignoring the rampaging sounds of her raging father just outside her door, she quickly packed several necessary toiletries, a water bottle, and all the bits she owned (which admittedly wasn’t much) into her saddlebag. She spun and ran to her closet, rummaging around at the bottom until she pulled out a small stack of CD's, a pair of Beats by Dr. Whooves, and the small, electronic RMA card that her tracks were stored on.

She rose, unsteady, and headed to the window, where a reflection waited to greet her. Vinyl saw bloodshot eyes, wide with terror and anticipation. She saw the light-and-dark contrasting blues of her mane, ridiculously tangled, each strand intertwining with another. She saw the spot on her cheek, red and throbbing, where she had been hit. And, raising her hoof, she saw the ticket that Lyra had given to her earlier, the promise of a better life.

“This is it,” she muttered.

She looked past her reflection, out into the hustle-and-bustle of late-night Manehattan. It was beautiful, really, when you were far enough away to appreciate it, when you couldn’t see the dust, the decay. When you couldn’t see the poor houses or the blood spilled by gangfights on the street or some unsuspecting mare getting pulled into an alley where the unthinkable happened.

Yeah, beautiful.

Vinyl took one last, lingering glance around her bedroom. Not to remember it, because Vinyl was happy enough to be rid of the place. No, what she wanted was to remind herself why she was leaving. She snorted, impatient with herself. No point reminiscing, she thought. And no point waiting any longer.

She silently lifted the glass window and slid out, hooves delicately making contact with the cold, rusted metal of the fire escape. Slowly and carefully climbing down, one rung at a time, she tried not to focus on how high she was, or how much it would hurt if she slipped.

The second Vinyl alighted upon the ground, she paused for a moment to readjust her saddlebags, then took off galloping breakneck to Grand Central Station.

Author's Note

Song is “Simple Song’ by Miley Cyrus (before you criticize, there's a story). Anyway, that song was written by my cousin's (now-ex) fiancé, Gran Bel Fisher, and Cyrus bought it off of him. So, technically, it’s a Gran Bel Fisher song :) Anywho, that version I posted is the original lyrics. Thought it fit the situation.

Sorry, I just went back over this chapter, plan on revising soon. All I ask is that you stick with me to the end of chapter three. If you are dissatisfied then, you can leave :)

~This fimfiction has been brought to you by the letter Q.