From the Desperate Struggle of a Mother

by Scootareader

Newborn

Words cannot express the grief I feel in forming these thoughts. All my life, I have looked forward to this exact instance, this captured image in my mind’s eye that neither time nor circumstance will ever erase. By all rights, I should be happy. I have heard from far too many others that this is the moment of a mother’s life in which she will be happiest. Nothing will elate me more than how I feel right now.

Instead, I felt sadness, which is now being quickly overtaken by bitterness.

I should not be unhappy. For my foal's sake, I should find the strength to persevere through this trying time. I am looking into its eyes for the very first time. My own flesh and blood, a foal which I created, stares back. Only moments before, it took its first breaths of air; is it not the more innocent of the two of us?

When I look into its eyes—when I see its coat color—when I see the way its face contorts itself as it prepares to emit another wail of protest—everything reminds me of him. He should be here; he should be the one holding my hoof right now, not Lumpkin. Everything about this moment is simply wrong.

His presence here would be the crowning moment of both of our lives—and he isn’t here.

It’s not his choice, obviously. He couldn’t have been more excited than I to see his foal for the first time. The bitterness I feel right now indicates the lack of empathy I hold; none of it feels right. I feel like a thief stealing what happiness he deserved.

The feeling wells up inside me, overpowering, taking control of my mouth and forcing me to spit out the venom. “Get it out of my sight.”

I feel Lumpkin’s eyes on my cheek as she stares blankly at me for a moment. She briefly cannot comprehend my struggle. Then, I see her facial features shift as she forces herself to ignore what she understands for my sake. “Doctor?” The doctor, who has watched my malicious request in silence, slightly shifts his gaze to rest on Lumpkin. “Please take the baby elsewhere.”

The doctor says exactly what would be on any pony’s mind. “What possible reason could a mother have for not wanting to see her own foal?” I cannot blame him for voicing his confusion; all the same, it hurts to have my faults pointed out.

There have been few times in my life in which I am happy; being subjected to extreme amounts of varied hormones, plus my own mental and emotional intricacies, would make this an even more difficult state of mind to obtain. All the same, my heart is warmed at Lumpkin’s next assertion. “Your job as a doctor is not to judge your patients’ desires. You are to care for the mother and infant under you as best you can. Right now, the mother is asking for you to put her foal somewhere safe. Please do your job.”

The doctor’s eyes flicker briefly in irritation, then he gestures to a nurse, who removes the foal from Lumpkin’s cradling hooves and spirits it away.

Lumpkin grabs my hoof between hers and squeezes it gently. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”

I say nothing.

Lumpkin tries to give words of encouragement. “Come on, hun. I know you wanna talk.”

Still, I say nothing.

Lumpkin sighs and leans back in her chair, looking away in discouragement.

It is difficult to put into words what possesses me to refuse to speak when expected to, then finally speak when a pony feels they will not get an answer. Perhaps there is this defiance of expectation, this little rebellious side of me that refuses to do what is expected. Maybe it’s just the little rotten slice of lime garnishing the foul-smelling cocktail of awful personality traits and emotional instability that is who I am.

At any rate, her discouragement is my cue to answer her. “I wish he was here. He would love my foal.”

“You love it too, Fuji. You just have to give yourself time to realize it.”

“I’ll only love it if he loves it first.”

“You know he would if he was here to see this moment. You know he wouldn’t have imagined it any other way.”

“You know I imagined him being here. Nothing is ever the way we imagine it. Let it go. I don’t love it. Not without him.”

“You were exactly how he imagined you, weren’t you?”

The still-tiny rational part of me has conceded the point—but I’m not feeling rational right this moment. “You don’t know what we were like behind closed doors. Maybe he pretended to be good to me when other ponies saw, but you have no idea what he put me through when you couldn’t see.”

Lumpkin appears unconvinced of my claims. “Maybe, you say. But I don’t think he did. I think you’re just being spiteful.”

I try to conjure memories of what may or may not have happened, and that my traumatized brain may or may not have experienced under Apple Cart’s care. “You have no idea how much abuse he put me through, Lumpkin. All of the rape, and the beatings. He destroyed my life.”

All too suddenly, Lumpkin’s hooves have me wrapped in an embrace. I am so shocked that I don’t react immediately, which Lumpkin mistakes for a positive sign. “I remember he’d always hug you when you got like this, and it would help. I want to help. That’s all.”

I get a grip of myself and shove her angrily away. “You’re not him and you never will be. You’re not my friend. You’ll side with a rapist and an abuser over me.” I move to get out of the bed, but the doctor and three nurses mobilize and surround me, trying to hold me to the bed. I feel my face contort into a snarl, my teeth baring and a growl forming in the back of my throat. I bark out a sharp, “Let go of me!” hoping they step back in surprise, but only one of them does.

The doctor calls to the nurse who stepped away from me, “Go get something to calm her down.” The nurse nods and disappears into the crowd of medical staff.

My vision blurs and dims, my mind focusing on how to get out of here. I need to say something, anything. I just need to escape from these monsters. “Help, help! They’re attacking me! They hate me! Help! HELP! I’M BEING RAPED! HELP ME!” To their credit, my ears pick up that some medical staff out of the crowd have halted and are looking at me from the hallway. I take this as reassurance that I will be saved soon and the monsters will be dragged away so I can escape. “They’re trying to eat me! They took my baby away! They’re trying to kill me!”

The staff start moving again, ignoring my plight. I start struggling as hard as I can, adrenaline starting to pump as I realize the absolute helplessness of my situation. They’re going to kill me, I know it. They’re going to shoot me up with something and it’s going to kill me. My body starts lifting up off the bed, despite the three sets of hooves attempting to hold me to it, as I scream at the top of my lungs, “I’M DYING! HELP MEEEEE! THEY’RE KILLING ME! PLEASE! SAVE ME!”

My desperation falls on deaf ears as the hospital continues to ignore me.

My vision focuses enough to make out shapes, then I look at Lumpkin and stare pleadingly in her eyes. “Help me. I’m dying. I need you. Please.”

Lumpkin turns her gaze away from mine.

As I’m staring at Lumpkin’s cheek, trying to comprehend what this betrayal actually means, I hear the nurse re-enter. “This should put her right to sleep.”

The doctor says, “Perfect. That will do nicely.”

The syringe the nurse is holding comes into focus as it advances on my leg. I start bucking harder than ever before. One of the nurses lies down on top of me, pinning most of my body, while the doctor and the other nurse hold my leg totally flat. The nurse shoves the syringe into my leg.

I let out a high-pitched scream, as if I’m being murdered. In all likelihood, I am. In fact, I am. This entire hospital will be closed down. All of the hospital staff will be executed. None of them will be allowed to treat ponies like this when word gets out. Lumpkin will make sure they all die for how they killed me.

Except... Lumpkin hates me.

The needle is no longer in my leg; its contents were ejected into my body. I cannot stay awake much longer. This is the last moments of my life. I won’t go down without a fight. I continue my valiant struggle against the monsters. Maybe I can stagger back to other ponies before I die so they know how I died here. My attempts to force myself out of their terrible hooves gain a renewed fury, my entire body geared to defeat them so my death will not be in vain. I scream with a renewed fervor. “THEY’VE KILLED ME! YOU MONSTERS WILL PAY! EQUESTRIA WILL KNOW YOUR EVIL! YOU WILL ALL BE KILLED IN TARTARUS! MURDERED! MURDERED! MURDERED! MURDERED!”

My vision fades again, my muscles beginning to weaken. Still, I struggle to survive just a bit longer. I keep up my assault as best I can, refusing to stop repeating my accusation. “MURDERED! MURDERED! Murdered! Murdered! Murdered!” I know my words fall on deaf ears, but I cannot stop repeating what I know to be true. “Murdered! Murdered! Murdered! Murdered!”

I repeat the word until my mouth refuses to move anymore and my body goes limp. I cannot remember where I am or what I am doing. All I can remember is my word. “Murder. Murder. Murder. Mur....”

And then, nothing.

Author's Note:

Coming out of retirement to write about crazy ponies.

Comments

[pokefreak13]

This is really interesting. I'm loving it!