Why Tell?

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Scootaloo was gifted unto the world December 10, 1996.  She was a healthy baby, bubbly, happy, and strong.  Unfortunately for her, she had two of the dumbest sots for parents.  Scootaloo was a mishap, the product of thirteen shots of whiskey and a forgotten condom.  Her mother had no idea about the small miracle growing in her womb until the sixth month of pregnancy.  The mother nonchalantly admitted that she both drank and smoked during those short six months.

This confession scared the doctors.  They've all seen first hand the results of these stupid mistakes during pregnancy, and in fear for the baby's life, began to run all kinds of tests on the five-hour-old infant.  The head of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, or NICU, Nurse Redheart hated negligent parents like them.  Your child wasn't even born, why try to kill it before birth?  Nurse Redheart also felt remorse for the new-born.  Here she lies, not even a day old, and these strangers were hooking up these weird machines up to her.  On top of that, they were poking and prodding her entire body with out end.

The process didn't take long.  Nurse Redheart took a sigh of relief at the results sheet delivered after the physical examination.  The newly born Winged baby displayed no physical disabilities or deformations.  Now came the hardest part of her day.  Letting the "parents" see their child.  She picked up the sleeping baby and cradled it close to her body.  The baby curled up and pressed into the nurse's body.  "Come on precious, let's go see mummy and daddy.", she said.  As nurse Redheart approached the mother's room, she put on the best faux smile she could muster, and took a shakey breath.  "Here she is ma'am!", Nurse Redheart beamed.  The mother elicited no response, and the father proceeded to take out a cigarette.  He looked up at the nurse and snorted.  "So, there aint nutin' wrong wit' it?",  he asked.  He put the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a zippo lighter.  "Sir! There is no smoking in th-", Nurse Redheart tried.  "Save it toots!  I'll do what I want!", he boomed.  He flicked the top of the lighter open and hit the lighter a couple of times until it got a steady flame.  He held the flame to the paper roll of toxin and lit the tip ablaze.  "P-please sir!  Not around the baby!", Nurse Redheart said, pressing the baby closer to her body in an attempt to shield if from the fumes.  She looked to the mother for help, but saw that the mother was fast asleep.

The father scratched his fat belly as he took the cigarette out form his lips and blew a noxious cloud of smoke into the air.  He wiped his balding head.  He was truly an ugly man, short and fat.  He had on a stained, smelly, what used to be white t-shirt.  It smelled as if it was used to clean every mess in a normal household and then he took a jog in it.  It was too small, so it revealed some of his belly fat.  His jeans were faded and ripped in multiple places.  It was one of the wonders of the world that they actually fit him.  His shoes were black and were barely in one piece.  He was getting annoyed, so in spite he extinguished his cigarette and threw it into the near-by waste bin.  "Nurse, please give me my baby.

Nurse Redheart handed the man his baby.  She swiftly turned around, not wanting to see the precious thing in the hands of that man.  She walked as calmly as she could out of the room and into the nearest storage closet.  She locked the wooden door and sank to her knees.  In an attempt to calm herself, she wrapped the arms around herself, imitating a hug.  She began to cry, letting those few hours of hardship just slip through her tear ducts.  She was in the closet for a good five minutes.  She walked out and decided to call it an early day.

"Mom, I'm home!", the seven-year-old Scootaloo called as she walked into her home.  "Yeah, whatever kid.  Did you miss the bus?  Again?", her mother called from the second story.  Scoots looked at the digital clock.  The green numbers read 5:15.  Her school ended at 2:30.  "Yes.", Scoots shamefully admitted.  "Dumbshit!", her mother called back.  Scoots sighed and went into the small kitchen.  She took her backpack off and set it on the table with a muffled thump.  She unzipped it and removed tonight's homework.  Even though she had to constantly endure physical and verbal abuse,  Scoots still held school to a very high standard.

She was in the middle of a colourful picture book, with her sight words highlighted throughout, when her drunkard father and his poker buddies stumbled through the door.  She ignored the five, blatantly drunk men.  As they continued to communicate in slurred sentences, they remembered where the kitchen was.  "Hey!  Get out of my seat!", her father shouted as he entered the kitchen.  She looked up at her father, who walked over to the girl.  He got close to her face and muttered, "Move!"  He planted his hand into the centre of her chest, and violently pushed her out of her seat.  She fell hard to the floor, hitting her chin.  In doing so she bit her tongue.  She rose to her feet and rubbed her sore jaw.  When she did, there was a warm liquid on her hand.

Blood.  The force of the fall had made Scootaloo's chin bleed.  The tears began to well in her violet eyes.  Her father noticed the sudden shift in emotion in the girl.  "Listen here, bitch.  You cry, and I'll hit you twice as hard!", he threatened.  She knew he wasn't lying this time.  "Why is your shit still here?!"  He grabbed her picture book and her backpack and flung them across the small kitchen like trash.  "Get out!", he yelled.  Scootaloo reluctantly obeyed and sulked off to the bathroom.

The hot water from the tap felt nice against the cut on her chin.  She dried off the area, and placed a colourful bandage over it.  In the seven short years she's lived on this Earth, she's learned to take care of her self.  Not wanting to face her father's verbal abuse, she stayed in the bathroom.  She plopped her small body onto the toilet and hugged her knees to her chest.  She went into her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper.  She unfolded it, and looked at the little colouring her friends, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom, made for her today.  "I'm so lucky to have friends like you.", she whispered to the colouring.  This little arts-and-crafts project made it an easy night in the bathroom.

"Scootaloo, come here please.", Ms. Cheerilee commanded.  This elicited an annoyed groan from Scootaloo.  The final bell on a Friday afternoon had just rang.  She was twelve now, didn't Cheerilee know that she had plans?  "It'll only take a second.  Be a dear and get the door?", she asked.  Scootaloo obeyed and shut the door.  Ms. Cheerilee went over to the curtains and closed them, preventing anyone from looking into the classroom.  "What do you want?", Scoots asked.  "Lift up your shirt", Cheerilee said with all seriousness.  Scoots' face burned with a red blush.  "W-what the Tartarus?", Scoots said to the clearly perverted teacher.  "Please?   I need to confirm one suspicion.  Do it for me?", she asked kindly.  Knowing that in the past, Cheerilee wasn't this...molest-y, she lifted up her shirt, revealing her stomach and ribcage.

"Sweet Celestia.", Cheerilee breathed.  She was looking at a gigantic, black bruise spanning the entire left side of Scootaloo's ribcage.  "Yeah.", Scoots said, averting the teacher's kind eyes.

"Did he do this to you?", she asked.

"Y-yeah.", Scoots responded

"Sweetie, why didn't you tell anybody?", Cheerilee asked caressing the girls face.

"He said he would kill me."

"What?"

"He said if I ever ratted him out to the police, he would take a knife to my throat."

"Oh my."

Then the sudden realization hit Scoots.  "Y-you're not gonna tell anyone, right?", she asked the teacher.  Cheerilee averted her gaze.  "Right?", Scoots asked more intensely.  Cheerilee was still staring at the wall behind her.  "No!  Please!  Please don't tell anybody!", Scoots vehemently pleaded.  "I'm so sorry, but I have to.  It's a federal law.  Just know I would never do anything to hurt you.", the teacher said looking deeply into the student's eyes.  Cheerilee opened the door, and Scoots left.  She knew that Cheerilee wouldn't be persuaded, and she certainly didn't want to get the best teacher in trouble.  She walked out of the middle school and unfurled her wings.  She gave them a strong pump and flew home.

Scootaloo took a deep breath and walked into her house.  She tip-toed in and closed the door as quietly

as she could.  She was praying to Celestia that her father was sleeping off a hangover.  This wasn't the case.  "Hey!  You piece of shit!", her father screamed.  He barreled out of the kitchen and pinned the twelve-year-old to a wall.  "Why the fuck did I get a call from the school asking to meet me?  Huh?", he yelled in her face.  "I-I didn't....I swear!", Scoots protested.  "Fucking bitch!", he yelled and punched her in the abdomen.  It knocked the wind out of her and she fell to the ground.  "You rat me out?", he boomed.  He kicked her in the ribs, where an existing bruise was.

She tried to crawl away, but her father staved her progress by grabbing her collar.  He stood her up, whirled her around, and grabbed her face.  He then slammed the captive head into the wall as hard as he could.  The resulting impact made a small hole in the wall.  She swayed on her feet, and she told herself if she passed out, she would die.  She screamed in pain as her father grabbed a fist-full of her hair.  He looked her straight in the eyes and punched her in the nose.  She fell, once more, to the ground.  He walked back to the kitchen, and Scoots tried once again to escape.  This brief respite of hope was shattered when her father returned with an empty whiskey bottle.  "Rat me out, this is what you get!", he shouted one last time.  He brought the empty glass bottle down with tremendous force across her back.

Scoots felt the cold shards of glass enter her body.  She also felt the warm blood flow over her back.  However there was one sensation she couldn't explain.  It felt almost like several pieces of twine snapping at once.  This was her final straw.  She kicked her father's shin as hard as she could.  He fell to one knee and grabbed his leg.  This was the opening she needed.  She rose painfully to her feet and burst out onto the lawn.  She tried to fly away, but the glass in her back was causing her too much pain.  So instead, she ran, and ran, and ran.  Ran away from that awful place.

Apple Jack had just finished today's harvest.  It was a good day in the Apple house.  Almost two tons of apples were collected.  She was resting on the couch, sipping a glass of apple cider.  "Sis!  Can you help me for a quick sec'", her sister, Applebloom called from kitchen.  "Why sure sugarcube!", Apple Jack called back.  Apple Jack rose to her feet, and walked over to the kitchen.  Her progress was stopped by a faint knock on the door.

Apple Jack opened the door and looked at their new guest.  The guest was nothing she had expected.  It was Applebloom's friend, Scootaloo.  She was in a very sad state.  She was hunched over and was bleeding profusely from the nose.  Her regularly orange shirt was soaked in blood.  "P-p-please....help?", she sputtered.  She fainted and landed in Apple Jack's arms.  Apple Jack's eyes went wide in fear.  "MAC!", she shouted at the top of her lungs, "Call 911!"

Scootaloo awoke on a surprisingly comfy bed.  There was an annoying beeping coming from somewhere in the tiny, blue room that she mysteriously ended up in.  Last she could recall, she was knocking on Applebloom's door.  "Ah!  Sugarcube, you're awake!", a voice beside her said.  She looked over towards the sound.  The voice, in fact, belonged to Apple Jack.  Her eyes were all red and puffy , and there were lines drawn in her dirt-covered face, more than likely from crying.  "Apple Jack?", she asked,"where are we?"  "Why, we're in the hospital, sugarcube", she said.  Tears of relief began to fall down her face.  Scoots painfully lifted herself up and stretched dramatically.  Something felt.....off.  Scoots went rigid in shock. She couldn't feel her wings.

"Apple Jack, I can't feel my wings.", Scoots panicked.  Apple Jack looked away and whispered, "Oh sugarcube."  "Why can't I fell them?", she asked in fear.  "I", some doctor said as he entered, "can answer that."  Scoots looked over the man like some kind of astral deity.  She was terrified about her wings, and could feel the tears coming.  "Please, doctor, please!  Why can't I feel them?", she asked loudly.  "Calm down, I assure you they're still very much attached.", he began.  Scoots looked at him in agony, desperately awaiting his answer.  "You can't feel them because we had to numb them for surgery."

"Surgery?"

"Yes, you had over 27 pieces of glass in your back."

"So what did you operate on?"

"Why, your back of course.  But...there was a small complication."

Apple Jack held a hand to her mouth and began to sob.  The doctor went over to Scoots and sat down on the bed beside her.  "As one Winged to another, I hate to be the one to tell you this.

"The procedure was a complete success.  The glass was effortlessly removed.", the doctor began.  "So what went wrong?", Scoots asked.  He took a very long breath.  "The glass did, unfortunately, sever multiple tendons in your wings.", he led on.  That explained the snapping twine.  "So?  What does that mean?"  "It means....you'll never be able to properly fly again.", he finished.  "W-what?", Scoots asked, tears falling.  "The tendons that were cut were required for flight.  You may be able to hover a few feet off the ground, but not for a long time.  I'm so sorry.", he said.  He clapped her on the shoulder and left the room.

"Sugarcube, I'm so sorry.", Apple Jack said as the doctor left.  Scoots continued to cry.  Apple Jack pulled the depressed twelve-year-old into a warm hug.  Scoots continued to violently sob.  "Shh, shh, it's going to be all right.", Apple Jack tried.  "N-n-no it's not, what's a Winged without the ability to fly!", she cried.  "Well, I've got some good news for you.", Apple Jack said, trying to get her mind off her wings.  Scoots pulled away and looked at her with those sad, purple eyes in total disbelief.  "The police got your parents, and they'll never hurt you again.  They won't bother you for a long, long time.", Apple Jack said through the tears.

"T-they did?", Scoots asked.

"Mmhmm, I promise.", Apple Jack said.

"But, where will I stay?",  Scoots asked.

"Why I reckon you can stay with us.", Apple Jack smiled.

Scootaloo's eyes went wide with shock.  "I-I can?", she asked Apple Jack.  'Why sure, an I'll bet Applebloom will be mighty happ-".  Apple Jack was cut off by a tight squeezing hug form Scoots.  "Oh thank you thank you, Apple Jack!", she shouted happily.  Apple Jack chuckled and returned the hug.

This was the new start in life Scootaloo had always wanted.