Days turned into weeks: weeks turned into months. Cheerilee was still trying to condition Applebloom into her new persona. Knowing that the filly in question was more stubborn than Clara May, Cheerilee had imposed a stricter schedule for her, in the hopes that if she wasn't going to be broken by repetition, then perhaps she would be broken by some well-earned exhaustion.
Applebloom was woken up at 8 on the dot every single morning, suited with a corset done up as tightly as possible, and then forced into a tight Southern Belle-style dress before having the bonnet tied around her head. Next she had to walk gracefully from one end of her room to the other and back, with a book on her head, between 50 to 100 times. Most of the time, she would be barely awake, her eyes burning and begging for even just a few more minutes of sleep, and the book would often fall off of her head. The voice would chastise her kindly, but firmly, and make her start back from the beginning, sometimes adding even more rounds as punishment.
Once she had either completed all of the daily rounds or collapsed of exhaustion to the point where even just moving a tendon or a muscle would send an aching pain through her body, she would be carried to the bathroom and bathed. Applebloom would look forward to this, as every time she was washed, the pain would be alleviated for the most part and she would feel rejuvenated. Following that was breakfast, which she also looked forward to, along with lunch, snacks, and supper. While she was not a princess-to-be like Clara May, the voice told her that because of her "family's" new elite status, she now had servants to cook delicious food for her, so like Clara May, she was given well-sized portions of a variety of foods. These were two of the only times where she felt at ease when the brainwashing first began.
After breakfast, she would be coached on articulation and dialect. At first, Applebloom made a conscious effort to stick to how she normally spoke, but each time she tried, she would get cut off and talked down to by the voice; after this happened a few times, she begrudgingly complied and studied, in the hopes that whoever was coaching her would cut her some slack, but they never did.
Following lunch, she was forced to read aloud books on her family history and look at photo albums. After that first incident, Cheerilee had given up on forcing her eyes to stay open, so instead of being rewarded with blinking, she would be rewarded with a small treat for each chapter read aloud, with proper articulation and dialect earning her another treat each, and for every photo album she looked at. The only time for her to take a break and try to remember who she truly was was during snack time, which would be halfway through this.
Finally after dinner, she would be quizzed on who this voice claimed she was. Being the stubborn farm pony, for the first month or so, Applebloom took any and every chance she got to talk back to the voice in her own slang, articulation, and dialect. Unfortunately all of those only added extra rounds to the following morning.
What is your name?
"How many times do ah have to say it? Mah name is Applebloom!"
Aww, Anna Faye, the voice would coo, oozing with condescension.
Does the poor, wittle, itty-bitty, silly filly got a case of the grumpy-grumps, Anna Faye? That earns you ten extra rounds tomorrow morning, Anna Faye.
She would be drilled for hours on end, sometimes until 2 or even 3 in the morning, in which time she would be placed back into her crib and the cycle would repeat the next day.
All the while, Applebloom wondered if anypony had noticed that she was missing. To her it felt like years since she had talked to Applejack, Granny Smith, and Big Mac. By now they had to have more than noticed her disappearance. Surely they were searching for her, right? Right? But as time went on, Applebloom began to have doubts. For all she knew, she could very well be far out of Equestria by now. Maybe that was why nopony could find her.
One morning Applebloom awoke at 8 am, as her body was used to, but there was nothing from the intercom. This was unnerving, as it had been her only "companion" for months. At the same time, she was slightly relieved. That voice had beaten on her eardrums so much and it scared her how used to it she was. She didn't know how much time she had, but that didn't matter. Applebloom had to know where she was and what was going on.
There was only one problem for her in terms of leaving the room, and that was her crib. The hoof gloves and shoes were restrictive in terms of gripping against the bars of her crib, but she soon decided to use her upper forelegs as makeshift hooks in a way. But there was an even bigger problem: how was she going to be able to get herself high above the bar to begin with? She had to make use of the mattress. Applebloom tried to create force that would launch her high enough for her to reach the bars, but the mattress didn't provide much of a bounce right away. But after a few minutes, she found herself gaining momentum and coming closer to being able to grasp on. Finally with a grunt, she pushed herself forward midair and flung her forelegs over. There was a slight miscalculation, however, and Applebloom ended up landing her torso on the bar rather hard. Despite the restriction of the corsets the past few months, she was not immune to any sort of pain in that area. The cold of the metal bar made it feel as though she had taken several hard and fast snowballs to the area, and it stung immensely. She bit on her tongue to keep herself from crying out before she took a back leg out of the crib and swung herself down with a thunk.
Applebloom froze when she collided, her heart jumping into her throat. She dared to not even so much as breathe loudly in case someone had heard her. What if the voice found out and then the pony behind it was going to come into the room? She waited on the ground, fear and the lingering pain of the metal bar paralyzing her. After five minutes, there was no indication of any pony making their way to her room. With a sigh of relief, she then decided it was time for her gloves and shoes to go. She tugged at the ribbons on her gloves with grunts of determination and frustration, but they were tied on tightly. She thought of AJ, Big Mac, Granny Smith and how worried they were about her sudden disappearance. By this point, most ponies would say that she was dead, but the Apple Family was persistent. These thoughts gave the young filly strength, and she pulled out the ribbon on one of her gloves, allowing her to kick it off before quickly moving onto the next, Finally she bucked off the shoes and headed for the door.
Not surprisingly, her captor seemed to have underestimated her, as they hadn't locked it. Applebloom theorized that they were certain she wouldn't have escaped, especially while stuck in such a repetitive routine. She pushed open the door and stepped out into a dark hallway. The filly trembled, as the only light in the hall was coming from a small high window nearby, but she was determined to find out where she was, as well as how she could escape if possible. Her hooves echoed against the smooth, polished wood floor, echoing against the walls. It was a strange sensation to be able to move on her own and go wherever she wanted, and yet it felt exhilarating. However her happiness was cut short when she saw something that stopped her in her tracks.
Up ahead was a unicorn who seemed to approach Applebloom rather slowly and mechanically. At first she thought that she was shocked because it had been a while since she saw any pony face to face. But as the unicorn got closer, she realized that that wasn't it. The unicorn's fur, if one could call it that, was smoothed down so perfectly that they looked as though they were living porcelain. The mane and tail had barely anything distinguishable as they had no style or color, but when she could make them out, it was the eyes that made Applebloom panic. The pupils were barely pinpricks, devoid of any sense of emotion. The whites of the eyes seemed glazed over, almost as if the pony wasn't all there. Then they opened their mouth.
"Why are you out of your room, Anna Fay?"
The voice was also devoid of emotion, speaking in perfect monotone. The owner advanced upon the young filly whose blood had frozen the moment the unicorn opened their mouth. Applebloom began to back away as the unicorn asked once more, a bit louder.
"Why are you out of your room, Anna Fay?"
She tried to figure out a way to get around the unicorn, but she was slowly being cornered against the wall. The shadow of the unicorn loomed over her as they leaned in until their muzzles were practically touching, and asked once more, in a demonic scream.
"WHY ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR ROOM, ANNA FAY?"
The whole ordeal, especially with all of the repetition the past few months, was too much for Applebloom It seemed as though her mind was cracking. Everything began to split in two and lose form, as she stumbled where she stood. And before Applebloom knew it, she was out cold.