Sisters at Heart

by Lunatone

Chapter Five: Our Deepest Fears

Sisters at Heart

Lunatone

Chapter Five

Our Deepest Fears

The next morning, I found myself still on the floor, where Vinyl and I had our special moment, and I was still lying on her. But something was different: Jazzmere wasn’t home. If he did come home last night, he would have broken Vinyl and I apart, and we would have been lectured on how being intimate with a pony of the same gender wasn’t a moral declaration in society.

Instead, I woke up to a blanket being on top of us, the fireplace rekindled, and the fresh aroma of oatmeal and toast. Dusty didn’t have a problem with Vinyl and I being intimate, considering that he put a blanket on us—after seeing us together in each other’s comfort—so why should my father have one?

Then again, Dusty had a recalcitrant attitude when it came to the views my father had. Dusty had a more liberal standpoint than my father did, and they would get into heated arguments, Dusty often being the one who gets angry, about topics such as this.

In these types of situations, I wished Dusty had fathered me instead of Jazzmere, because Dusty was not only more understanding, but he was also more interested in me.

Sometimes I imagined giving Dusty a hug, crying into his chest while telling my father that I hated him, in hopes I would feel Dusty’s gentle, warm touch to make my foreboding vanish.

After I had that thought, I bolted to the bathroom and threw up in the sink, releasing the revolting guilt that built up inside of me from the thought. Vinyl, apparently, wasn’t too far behind me, and she hasted to the bathroom to see if I was well.

“You doin’ okay there, Octy?" Vinyl asked.

“I’m quite all right, thank you,” I said, rinsing the sink. “I’m comfortable with you here.”

“Is this about what happened last night?” Vinyl asked, walking in.

“No, not at all. I have no regrets with what we did last night,” I said. “It felt good. Really good.”

“I know, right? I was surprised you’d make a move like that, Octavia. I didn’t expect that at all, you crazy filly.”

“You make me happy, Vinyl,” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How about we go get breakfast? I’m sure you’re hungry, and I think Dusty is calling us.”

Vinyl wrapped a hoof around me and smiled. “Let’s get some grub.”

§

We found our breakfast laid out neatly on the dining table: hot oatmeal, dry toast, and apple juice. Dusty was already at the table eating his breakfast. Vinyl and I took our seats opposite of each other, so we weren’t sitting next to each other for obvious reasons.

“Thank you for making breakfast, Dusty,” I said. “And for putting a blanket on us when we were asleep. My father wouldn’t have been too happy to see Vinyl and me sleeping together.”

“Yeah, that was cool of you dad, thanks,” Vinyl said, smiling. “Means a lot to us.”

“I was happy to do it. I know how close you to are, and it doesn’t bother me one bit that you two were intimate,” Dusty said, finishing his meal.

I took a sip of my juice. “Say, where is my father? He didn’t come home last night, did he?”

“I believe he attended a party of some sorts last night. Not sure where the party was held, though. He may still be there. That’s everypony’s guess.”

“Oh, okay,” I said, short sobs heaving between my words.

“He’ll be back, Octavia, don’t worry,” Dusty said, reaching out to me with a hoof. “Say, rather than being stuck in here all day, would you two like to tag along with me to the market in a bit? I have to do some errands, and it’s quite a nice day.”

“Pop, Octavia and I love being outside. Of course, we’ll tag along!” Vinyl said.

My smile broadened. That was another thing I loved about Vinyl. She always knew when to say the right answer when it was called for.

“Okay, then. You two go get ready while I clean up these dishes.”

Vinyl and I went to our rooms and got our saddlebags. Before we left, I had taken the liberty to take some bits that were on my father’s desk, so I could get a present for Vinyl.

We crossed the residential streets and were trekking our way to the busy Manehattan market. Garrulous ponies surged through the many aisles of the merchandised kiosks, articulating indecipherable words. There were sale associates left, right, and centre, trying to sell their newest items in stock. When we approached the market square, Dusty had stopped us midway.

“All right you two. Meet me back here in an hour, okay? Be safe. Oh, and take these,” he said, giving us some bits, not knowingly I already had some. “If you find something you like among the millions of kiosks here, get something nice for yourselves. See you in a bit.”

Vinyl and I hustled to the empty side of the market, to get to the kiosks that sold items to our liking: musical accessories, aluminium balloons, and homemade candy. Vinyl usually cavorted at the sight of homemade candy, a specialty around here, for Manehattan had been, and still is, known for its famous confectioners.

We paced through the multitude of kiosks until, suddenly, a rock struck the back of Vinyl’s head. We whirled our heads around, and my heart sank into the abyss. Bulldozer and two of his friends, Chains and Bloody Knuckles, were approaching us.

Bulldozer was the son of one of my father’s friends, Arrowsmith, a fletcher and blacksmith. His family—despite them being rich—lived in the slums of Manehattan, place where you could get mugged at night, or even killed. If you were a filly or colt growing up in the Manehattan slums, you knew about Bulldozer’s renowned stainless-steel brass horseshoes, crafted by his father, though—hopefully—not through personal experience.

Born to a rich mother, and a devious father, Bulldozer, with a yellow mane, and dark green coat, grew up to be a relentless colt. He towered over the other fillies and colts, tormenting them, physically and mentally, with his brass horseshoes. He attended my school when grade three started, but the principal expelled him the same day for his unspeakable act.

On the first day of grade three—during lunchtime in the cafeteria—I saw him beat another poor colt over his lunch. I will never forget how he grinned—how he laughed—as if he took abhorrent pleasure in his act—as he pummeled the poor colt unconscious.

Flanked by his obeying friends, they roamed around my neighbourhood, like evil minions about to commit sinister acts, through its eager-to-please entourage. His views were purely by law—and, if you needed a little education, those brass horseshoes were the perfect teaching device.

And now he was heading for Vinyl and me, grinning, kicking small pebbles our way.

“Hey, it’s my favourite dykes. How's it going queers?” Bulldozer asked, waving. That had been two of his favourite insults he used against us, merely because Vinyl and I were never apart. Vinyl retreated behind me as the three stallions closed in on us. Their shadows blocked the sunlight, beaming on us, and all we could see were the grins on their face, silhouetted by the sun.

Bulldozer tipped his chin to Vinyl. “Hey, Vinyl,” he said. “How’s your cracker of a father doing?” Vinyl didn’t say anything and took another step back behind me.

“What do you want, Bulldozer?” I asked, taking a step back too.

“What I want is for you two to make out right here in the middle of the market for us. That’d be hot,” he said, laughing among his friends.

“You have a twisted mind,” I said, stammering. “Just leave us alone, all three of you, or else I’ll tell my father about this.”

“Or else I’ll tell my father about this,” Bulldozer said, mimicking me in a whiny voice. “Did you hear what she just said boys?”

Chains and Bloody Knuckles nodded at Bulldozer’s question, their grin widening. They stepped closer, and each step increased my heartbeat.

I wondered if anypony would hear me scream in this remote section of the market. I wished we stayed with Dusty instead.

“Your father doesn’t care about you, one bit.”

“Of course he cares! He’s my father!” I snapped, scowling. “He loves me, as his daughter.”

Bulldozer snickered. “Oh, really? You think he cares about you? Then why didn’t he come home to his precious daughter last night? I’ll tell you why. He was at my birthday party last night.”

“You’re lying!” I said, whimpering. “Why should I believe you?”

“You don’t have to believe me. You could just ask your father. He’d tell you the same thing I did.” Bulldozer guffawed with his friends as they exchanged hoof-bumps with each other.

For a brief second, nothing came to me as I stood in front of the towering stallion. Bulldozer gave me a cheeky grin and crept closer to me. His glare made me quiver, and I whimpered at everything he had said and done to me.

“Oh, look boys, is the little filly gonna cry now? Want me to get you a bottle?” Bulldozer said, rubbing his eyes like a crying filly would.

Suddenly, there was a rapid flurry motion behind me. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Vinyl reach out for something on a kiosk and quickly retracted her motion. Bulldozer’s eyes flicked at the movements going on behind me, and his grin widened. I noticed the same look on Chains and Bloody Knuckles as they both witnessed what was going on behind me.

I turned around and saw Vinyl holding a short bow with an arrow. Vinyl had pulled the cock of the arrow all the way back and targeted it at Bulldozer. The arrow had a blunt arrowhead, yet it still appeared as deadly as a broad arrow. Vinyl’s hooves trembled from the sheer strain of pulling the bowstring back, and beads of sweat trailed down the side of her face as she concentrated on keeping her aim steady.

“You leave her alone right now, Bulldozer,” Vinyl said. “Or else you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Bulldozer burst into peals of laughter again. “You’re gonna shoot me with that? You gotta be joking,” he said. “Put it down, you loose dyke.”

“Get lost, Bulldozer, I don’t want to hurt you!”

Bulldozer smiled. “Did you forget that there are three of us and only two of you?”

Vinyl nodded at the question but didn’t reply. To an outsider, Vinyl didn’t look scared, at all, yet she feared Bulldozer and his friends immensely. Her face told me everything I needed to know, for I knew all of its subtle nuances, since the day we were born, knew every twitch and flicker that rippled across it, and it told me that she had been scared. Scared plenty.

“There may be three of you, but I’m the one holding the bow with an arrow here. And if you make another move on Octavia, you’ll be the laughing stock of Manehattan.” The way she spoke her words restrained me to keep quiet.

Bulldozer’s mouth twitched. Chains and Bloody Knuckles watched this exchange with something akin to wonderment. Vinyl had challenged the great Bulldozer. She humiliated him. And, worse of all, he was humbled by a girl. Bulldozer glanced from the readied arrow to Vinyl. He searched her face with every detail it had. What he found must have convinced him of how serious Vinyl’s intentions were because he stepped back away from us, because his grin, finally, diminished to the humiliating defeat.

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life, you stupid dyke,” Bulldozer said with an icy glare. “This isn’t over yet, mark my words. Let’s go boys.” They all retreated, stepped back away from us, and ran in the distance, eventually fading to a black dot.

Once they were out of my sight, I rushed over to Vinyl, making her drop the bow and arrow, and clasped her in my hooves. Her silken mane slid through my hoof as I patted it. We both collapsed to the ground, and Vinyl held me in her stubby forehooves.

“Vinyl…he can’t be telling the truth! He…”

My throat closed tightly, and each word pitched higher than the last. I wept into her chest, and my cheeks itched from the tears that were streaming down my face.

“Don’t worry about those idiots, Octy. We’ll get through this together,” Vinyl said, her voice soft. “I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always be here for you…”

After I had collected myself, we both got up from the ground. I turned around to focus my attention to Vinyl, who tried to tuck the bow and arrow in her saddlebag with her quivering hoof. It took her more than five tries to put them into her saddlebag, so I helped her with doing so. Neither of us said anything as we walked back to the market square in trepidation—certain that Bulldozer told the truth of my father’s whereabouts last night.

We got back to the market square and met up with Dusty. He had been standing near a street bench, levitating two paper bags with his magic. We ran up to him, and Vinyl gave her father an immediate hug.

“Dad, dad! Bulldozer and his friends…they said mean stuff to us and wouldn’t leave us alone,” Vinyl said, letting go.

Dusty placed the levitating bags down on the adjacent bench. “Wait, Bulldozer? The one that beats up fillies and colts? What did he say to you?”

“Yeah, that’s him! He said that Octavia’s father never cares about her. Then he went on about how her father went to his birthday party last night.”

Dusty focused his eyes on me. His friendly look made my heartbeat pump at irregular intervals. “Is Vinyl telling me the truth? Did he say those things to you?”

“Well…he did say…” I hesitated in telling him.

Dusty stepped up to me, put a hoof on my shoulder, and smiled. “You can tell me, Octavia. Whatever happened between you and Bulldozer, we'll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

At that point, I wrapped my forehooves around Dusty, hugging him. “Vinyl is telling the truth! Bulldozer did say those awful things! And I…” My words stammered, and I couldn’t pull myself together.

“Shh, it’ll be all right, Octavia, don’t you worry,” Dusty said pulling me in an embrace. “I know your father better than anypony else in this world. And he wouldn’t do or say such a thing about you. Shh, you'll see. Everything will be, okay.”

I buried my head into his warm chest and wept, again. Dusty held me close, told me everything would be fine, and rocked me back and forth until my tears dried, until my quivering stopped, and my frantic yells dwindled to indecipherable mumbles. In his hooves, I had forgotten everything that happened that day. And that was good.

Comments

[Bynoan]

“You’re gonna shot be with that? You gotta be joking,"
Shoot me?
Other than that, this story deserves more attention hehe

[Lunatone]

5226042

I'm glad you liked it, and I did make that change, thanks for noticing.

What do you think of Bulldozer, eh? He's walking hell flames. I only ask this so I can develop my characters more, avoiding Mary sues.

[Bynoan]

5226155
Oh well felt him to be threatening enough to make me fear for th next chapters (which is a good thing i guess ), as a character pretty solid. Honostly only character which is hard to understand for me sometimes is Jazzmere, well more th interaction with Octavia and him, but I suspect it will become more clear later on.

Also walking hell flames? Is that an expression or something?

[Lunatone]

5226733
Yeah, Jazzmere is a very complicated character when it comes to interaction with Octavia, though that had not been my initial intention. And I do promise his character will become clearer as I write more chapters.

He's the type of character that gets you thinking about what his motives are.

And as for the walking hell flames, it's a metaphor I just randomly thought of when I posted the comment XD.

[scuba12]

I am loving the story so far! Great job!

Dusty placed the levitating bags down on the adjacent bench. “Wait, Bulldozer? The one that beats up fillies and colts? What did you say to you?”

I believe that this should say "What did he say to you?"

Other than that, great story. Keep up the great work.

If anyone were to take advice from me, this is what I would wish it to be.
That it matters not what others may say. What matters most is the passion you put into your work, day by day.
-Scuba12

[Lazydrill]

in the beginning:

and I was still lying on her.

You missed an 'a' there.

( Small note to self: Left halfway of the chapter. Because I needed to go and had not enough time to finish.)

[Kind of Brony]

as he plummeted the poor colt unconscious.

pummeled

“There may be four of you, but I’m the one holding the bow with an arrow here.

three

Bloody Knuckles? What were his parent's thinking? Ponies don't even have knuckles!