Warning: This is the first fanfic i’ve ever written, so it probably won’t be too good. Pardon my use of punctuation, quotes, or any other grammar issues, its not that I don’t know how to do them, its just that I choose not to. Swearing is involved, Violence is involved. Also, this is about Fictional Little Horses that have Wings, so if you’re not into My Little Pony, then run away.
My mother burned the cigarette into my orange fur, the pain was intense. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so loud. She closed my mouth and yelled, “Shut the fuck up, you little cunt!” I tried to fight her off, but it was pointless. She was much stronger than me, surprisingly. I hate whenever she gets drunk. I heard the door downstairs open, and I was filled with a wave of relief. My father was home! That meant she would back off, to go greet him, and I could bandage up my wound, and then go to bed, but what happened next, was completely different.
I don’t even want to write about what happened last night. Whenever I woke up, my body was horribly sore, covered in cuts, my fur was stained a dark, red, but the blood has already dried. My purple mane was mangled and knotted. I tried to mend my wounds the best I could, but I didn’t bandage them, that would bring attention. I took a shower, to try and clean the stains covered in my coat. I still had to go to school, after all. I flew there, and I saw that the entire place was decorated with red hearts, streamers, the works. It was Hearts and Hooves day, great. Another day where I can sulk around, watching my friends with their pegasi boyfriends have fun, and I get to sit there, lonely.
After school, my friend Saturn, a tall and slender pegasus walked up to her. Saturn was a good friend, I met him about 2 years ago, whenever I moved up to Cloudsdale. “Hey Scoots, whats up broo?” he tried to put his arm around me, but I quickly push him away. “I don’t feel like talking.” “Whats wrong? Are you alright? Why is some of your fur burned?” I appreciated his concern, but I wasn’t in the mood for it. “Nothing. I accidentally burned myself making food. Stop asking.” He moved back, as if Scootaloo had slapped him, “Alright, sorry. I’ll talk to you later.” I flew for home, not in much of a rush. I wanted to get home, except I didn’t feel like being around my mother. At all. I opened the door to my home, and flew as fast as I could to my room. Halfway up the stairs, I heard my mom yell up “Where the hell are you going so fast?” “I have school work.” I replied, coldly. I wanted to avoid her the best I could. I did not want anything to do with that bitch. Whenever I was about to go into my room, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, everything went black.
I woke up, hours later. The back of my head sore. Chained to a pole that in the middle of the room, like some kind of animal, the shackles on my neck made it hard to breathe. The room was dark, and the air was damp. The only light provided was from a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. I was still to dazed to where I was or what was going on, but after a couple of minutes, I realised what was happening. My mother, or someone, knocked me out, and threw me in their basement, or whatever room this. I found what seemed to be a notepad, which I intended to use to record what happens down here. I found a pencil in a box under it, luckily it had a hand sharper with it. Hopefully whoever is my captor doesn’t find it. All I could do was stare at the walls, and write.