WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE, PHYSICAL CHASTISEMENT, AND INJURY DETAILS. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Morning came bitterly cold that day. The snow howled through the air and the skies were grey. The white stuff continued to blanket the land around Canterlot, which would have made a beautiful scene were it not for the sky. The general air of sadness continued to hang over the town itself, a tone of sadness that would not dissipate irrespective of what anybody tried to do to cheer anybody up. Anon-a-Miss had caused so much carnage, and nobody was in the mood to celebrate. At least not at the moment.
Up at Sweet Apple Acres, the normal jovial tone was gone, replaced with anger and fury. Inside the house, most of the folk were in their rooms, wrapped up warm, or trying to cheer themselves up. Not one person though.
Out in the fog and the snow, Apple Bloom trudged through the thick clouds of snow. Trudged is actually the wrong way to describe it; she looked as if she had just got off a boat after many months at sea, and wandered toward the equipment shed where the farm's railway locomotives were kept. It was hard going, and every step was a reminder of the pain. Every step was agony. But no matter what she did, she couldn't talk anyone into seeing her side of the story. Nobody would listen. Everybody was so intent on getting a quick solution to the crisis of Anon-a-Miss they had been unwilling to listen. Not that it would've mattered, as nobody trusted her anymore. Not her parents. Nor her grandparents. Nor her siblings.
Her mind flashed back to that day, which felt like decades ago, which had decided her current fate, the one that left her in this state of blinding agony, the one that completely destroyed her respect for Applejack.
The living room of the house had more of the feeling of an interrogation room to it than a home. Big Mac patrolled up and down like a prison guard at a Gulag, whilst Pear Butter and Grand Pear kept close eyes on Apple Bloom, who was seated on the couch, her eyes darting around to try and find a glimmer of compassion, whilst a loud furious argument was going on next door.
"Ah hope yer proud of the mess ya made," Big Mac said angrily. "Thanks ta ya, Sugar Belle won't see me no more."
"It weren't me," Apple Bloom replied weakly. She had already used up most of her strength, arguing her innocence until she had no breath left. But it hadn't worked, as her family members were incredibly stubborn. Besides, all the evidence they had been given pointed to her anyway.
"Save yer breath," Grand Pear, his tone nastier than usual. "The evidence all points to you. So suck it up and take responsibility for yer action."
Pear looked over to her father. "There's no need fer the tone, but Ah do agree. Ah thought Ah'd raised ya better than this, Apple Bloom."
The younger girl just didn't care anymore, as more shouting could be heard next door. Finally, it stopped, and Granny Smith walked in, with Bright Mac stepping in behind her.
"We have decided," the matriarch of the Apple Family announced, as if reading out a death sentence, "that a spankin' ain't productive in this circumstance."
Apple Bloom let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding.
"But do not think you are gettin' out of this easily," Granny Smith continued, her voice full of anger. "As of tommora mornin', you will be doin' everybody's chores, and not permitted any help whilst doin' them. Furthermore, you are not allowed ta use either yer phone or yer computer. Applejack's movin' that ta the basement. Finally, yer grounded indefinitely and not allowed to see either of those troublemaker friend of yers, Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle."
"H-how lon' will this last fer?" Apple Bloom asked nervously.
"Until we can trust you again," her father said vaguely. "Now get ta yer room. Ah'm sick of seein' yer face."
The girl complied, leaving the room and walking up the stairs, closing her door behind her after she had crossed the threshold of her room. She sat down on her bed, and looked out of the window absent-mindedly.
"What did Ah do ta deserve this?" she asked. "Can't they see we ain't capable of spreadin' that sorta stuff?"
Her door suddenly crashed open, and there was Applejack, her face red with fury. "Why can't ya just take yer lumps like a woman, Apple Bloom?" the older girl asked.
"Why can't ya see yer believin' a lie?" Apple Bloom retorted. "If ya truly were the Element of Honesty, as Twilight said ya were, you'd be able ta see Ah've been framed!"
This was not the smartest of moves, as it seemed to make Applejack enraged. She charged at her little sister, grabbing her and pinning her against the wall. "You watch yer tongue, ya piece of shit!" she snarled. "Or else ya may lose it!"
"Ah have taken mah lumps," Apple Bloom replied. "Ah've been given mah punishment."
"Ah heard," Applejack replied. "Granny Smith ain't gonna spank ya."
There was a moment's silence. "Ah will."
"What?" Apple Bloom asked, before being flipped over and pinned over the chair that sat next to her desk. "Sis, don't! Yer makin' a terrible mistake!"
Applejack sighed as she pulled Apple Bloom's jeans down, exposing her rear. "The only mistake made around here was that you were born," she said, and raised her hand to strike.
Apple Bloom had no idea how many times she had been hit, or even how hard. It had all blurred together into a hurricane of pain and anger. What she did know for certain was that she had been hit incredibly hard, if the fact her ass was still burning like a forest fire was anything to go by. This made doing work even harder, not least the fact that Applejack kept extending the list of chores every few minutes out of spite. The others were enjoying this, she knew it, and all for something she didn't do.
At this point in time, she had just finished moving the cider boxes from the barn ready to be loaded onto passing trains going along the main line. Apple Bloom could clearly hear and see the trains flying up and down the main line, steam flying from chimneys and cylinders and whistles sounding well into the night. It only went further to embody what she had lost; her freedom.
That wasn't the only thing she had lost. She felt naked without her bow, but Applejack had summarily taken it away from her and wouldn't give it back until she had been 'fully punished'. The fact that there was no defined period of punishment said a lot, as it could either end tomorrow, or endure to the end of her life. But still, there was no way out. Not even school was an escape, as their lockers had been defaced and attacked, and they had been assaulted several times by students. They hadn't bothered raising it with the school staff, as they probably wouldn't believe them anyway. After all, they had turned a blind eye to Sunset's actions during her reign of terror, so why should they do anything now? Her thoughts turned to Sunset. Where was she now? Hopefully she was having a nicer time than Apple Bloom was, stuck here in a miasma of snow and freezing cold.
She turned her attention to the snow. That was her next job. The snow needed sweeping off of the pathways that led to the main drive of Sweet Apple Acres, though the place was somewhat sour at the moment. Using a shovel would mean it would take at least an hour, at which point Applejack would just shout at her to hurry up. It was then she had an idea. She opened the door to the barn, and stepped inside for a brief respite from the cold. Before her were the engines she and her friends had recovered from the Everfree hills a few months back. They had been restoring a railroad there, but had not progressed far when this mess started. Now nobody wanted to work on it at all, as that meant association with the Crusaders. That was what hurt most. This mess had tarnished their names forever. Now nobody would want to know them, ever again.
She took the opportunity to light the fire of one of the engines, as this was part of the plan. In truth, the engine was already up to temperature thanks to pre-heating equipment she had turned on earlier in the day, but it never hurt. She opened up the door to let the engine out, only for Big Mac to stride through the door.
"What are ya doin'?" he snapped, his face red with anger.
"Lightin' up the engine ta clear the snow faster," Apple Bloom replied, matter of factly. "Steam from the cylinders can be used ta melt the snow faster."
Her older brother blinked. Then his face softened. "Good thinkin'," he said. "The sooner that snow is cleared, the better." Then, as he turned to leave, another individual walked in through the door, and Mac's face went back into angry mode. "What're ya doin' here, Pip!" he snarled.
"Helping Apple Bloom," the boy replied bravely. "The way you are treating her is simply monstrous, and as a good citizen I simply cannot let that stand."
Mac's hand closed into a fist. Pip more than took the hint and backed up. He had heard tales of Big Mac's terrifying strength, and although Mac was not a violent person, Pip would rather not take the risk. "Get off mah property, or Ah'm reportin' ya to the Police fer trespassin'!"
"Apart from the fact that trespass is a Civil matter, not a criminal one, I see the truth now. Your stubborness is blinding you from seeing the truth."
"All the evidence points to Apple Bloom and her 'friends'," with Big Mac putting especial emphasis on the word 'friends', "havin' done this. How else could they have known Applejack's nickname?"
"Somebody overhearing it?" Pip answered. "Besides, what did they stand to gain for doing it? Nothing at all! It makes no sense!"
"Ah reccomend ya scram," Big Mac answered. "Unless ya plan to set the house on fire like ya British did ta Washington."
Pip looked around. "I'm wasting my time here," he said. "But one day you will come to regret your actions." And with that, he dissappeared off into nothingness. Big Mac turned around to face his sister.
"Get that snow cleared," he said coldly, as he walked out of the barn. Apple Bloom nodded nervously, but her eyes stung with tears as she opened the regulator on Stuart the Brave. How could they hate her so much?
"Hold still darling, I need to put one last adjustment pin in."
Rarity intentionally took as long as she could over the process, as she tested yet another horrible and lurid outfit on Sweetie Belle. This had been the case since the day that the principals had seemed so convinced that she and her friends had done it. Her parents had sanctioned it. And that was how it was to remain for now.
Sweetie Belle had stopped counting how many different items Rarity had tested on her. Ill fitting jumpers, dresses in horrifying colours with equally horrible patterns and awkward stitching, intentionally designed to make her skin itch, shirts that were several sizes too small intentionally-Sweetie Belle was convinced her sister was doing it on purpose. Not that her parents would listen. She had always been a little closer to her father than her mother, but even he wouldn't listen to her, instead locking her out of the basement where the model railroad, which she had poured so much time and love into, was situated. Only he went in there every now and then, and it had been a long time since Sweetie Belle had heard it being used. Not that she had much left.
As part of her punishment, she had been prohibited from using any electronics of any description, and banned from leaving the home in any way, shape, or form. Then, to add insult to injury, her parents had sold off each and every one of her personal possessions. This included her PC, her phone, but even personal items that were valuable to her, such as a fragment of the Talyllyn Railway she had received from a friend in Wales, several certificates, including one confirming her as an engineer on the California Coast Railroad, and even her toys, including Jupiter. She had begged them not to get rid Jupiter, as that toy train was the oldest item in her collection, and had been the very first toy she had ever received when she was born. But her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Her parents had claimed that someone who was as callous and cruel as her, spreading dirty laundry around, didn't deserve to own anything. That, and it was allegedly to make up for the income lost from the fact that people were no longer buying Rarity's clothes because of the Anon-a-Miss incident, but Sweetie Belle knew full well her parent's incomes more than covered that loss. This was done out of spite, pure and simple.
But if that had seemed bad, then the worst was yet to come. Her parents had also cut her diet, rationing her to water and soup. She was often sent away from the table first before she had even finished, leaving her hungry most days, as soup isn't especially nourishing. She had already lost some weight, and with no end to the punishment in sight, she would try to get a proper meal at school every day. That is, assuming Granny Smith didn't randomly decide not to serve her or her friends. That seemed to be a problem some days, and this often resulted in Scootaloo or Cozy sharing their packed lunches. Sweetie Belle felt awful taking food away from other people, but it was that or starve.
And now was the morning modelling session. This was pretty horrible, but Sweetie Belle simply had to grit and endure it as she was put into whatever monstrosity Rarity had come up with.
Her older sister stepped back to survey her work."Quite marvellous," she said. "But then again, it could do with a slight addition of burgundy."
"Hasn't it already got burgundy on it?"
"No no, darling, that's purple. The only connection they have is the same colour family." Rarity sighed as she tweaked some fabric, one of the pins moving.
"Ow!! Rarity, that hurt!"
"Well, at least you know how everybody you leaked secrets on feels," Rarity replied, completely without any care or affection, as if she was talking to a robot. "But then again, given this was just another of your tantrums, I doubt you'd care."
"Well, isn't that rich, coming from you," Sweetie Belle replied. "You never cared about me, and you never have."
"I do not pay you to talk to me!" Rarity snapped, as she tweaked another part of the outfit.
"You don't pay me anything," Sweetie Belle said quietly. "I'm effectively your slave."
"This dramatically decreases operating costs," Rarity said in response.
"It's not as if you'd listen to a word I'd say anyway," Sweetie Belle grumbled.
"Sorry, what was that?" Suddenly, a pin broke, and it was left in Rarity's hand. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. "I must go and get some more. Stay right there, I'll be back in a minute or two." Just then, the fashionista dissappeared out of the room, in search of fresh pins.
"Proves my point," she sighed. Just then, she heard a knock on the window, and saw who was there. Standing on the other side of the window, was Button Mash, a smile on his face. Her heart turned to mush the second she saw him.
"Open the window!" the boy called. Sweetie Belle walked over to the window and pushed it open.
"How are you, Button?" she asked. Button was one of the few people in the world who believed she and her friends were innocent, but those people were few, and their enemies many. Safe to say, those who believed the Crusaders hadn't done it were liable to being chased out of establishments and harrassed in other ways.
"Things have been boring without you," he said, his face morose. "We need to set things right and find out who really did this."
"But how?" Sweetie Belle asked in despair. "How can we prove it when the evidence is set up the way it is?"
Just then, the door reopened, and Rarity appeared with not only her box of pins, but a tray with two cups and a teapot. Her face turned to anger when she saw Button Mash, and she stormed over, yanking Sweetie Belle back by the hair.
"If I see your pathetic face around here again, I'll refuse to sell your family any clothing!" she snapped.
"Good!" Button shot back. "Cause we're boycotting anyway. The way you treat a member of your own family is disgusting. You think you're a lady, but you're just pathetic." He turned around and walked off.
Rarity wiped her mouth. "Honestly, somebody needs to go and wash that rogue's mouth out with soap." She passed the first of the two cups over. "Water for you," she said. Then she poured some tea from the teapot. "And a warm cup of tea for me!"
"Button's right, you know," Sweetie Belle said, a defiant streak in her voice. "You seem to think your all aristocratic, with your ridiculous 'darling' this and 'lady' that, but you know what? You're just a bully!"
"Oh, isn't this ironic!" Rarity snapped. "It is not ladylike to share people's secrets around!"
"It's not ladylike to believe lies!" Sweetie Belle snapped back. "But it's not as if you ever gave a damn about the truth anyway."
Rarity knocked her cup over, the hot tea spilling all over her sister, who yelped in shock. "Language, you treasonous fiend!" she shouted. "For that, I'm extending this session by another three hours!"
There was no doubt in Sweetie Belle's mind this was Hell. And she would have to bear it alone.
Scootaloo sat in her room, looking out of the window at the world going by. People walking past gave rude gestures as they went by, and this was the mildest treatment she had received. Even so, she suspected she had fared a lot better than her friends. Her mind flashed back to the day she had been accused and 'found guilty' of being Anon-a-Miss, and the aftermath.
Scootaloo and Cheerilee walked down the corridor, neither saying a word. The look of disappointment was still on Cheerilee's face, and Scootaloo's tears still rolled down her face as they proceeded along.
"Mom, I-" Scootaloo began.
"Save it," Cheerilee snapped. "My office, now."
"I really fucked up," Scootaloo thought desperately. "Somebody up there must hate me." As they entered the music department, Cheerilee opened the door to her office, and indicated to a seat.
"Sit," was all she said, her voice indicative of her mood. Scootaloo walked in and sat down, trembling all the while. She had heard her mother could have a frightful temper, which she did not want to incur the wrath of. The door was closed behind them, and Cheerilee turned around to face Scootaloo. It was then the teacher's face softened noticably, and there seemed to be tears in her eyes.
"What's been going on?" she asked, her voice now with a tone of worry.
"I didn't do it," Scootaloo whispered. "None of us did."
Cheerilee came closer, and wrapped Scootaloo in a hug. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "I believe you."
"What?" Scootaloo said, audibly confused. "You seemed so angry in the office."
"You've forgotten how good an actor I can be," Cheerilee smiled. "I know you wouldn't do something like this, as you simply don't have it in you to do something like this."
"Thanks for believing me, mom," Scootaloo replied. "But why are you so certain?"
"Because I can tell when you are lying, Scootaloo," Cheerilee told her. "And the state you're currently in suggests you are telling the truth. If you hadn't been wrongly accused, would you be crying?" With that, she handed her daughter a tissue to wipe her eyes.
"But who?" Scootaloo asked. "Who would want to frame us?"
Cheerilee sighed. "I don't know. But in order to avoid attracting suspicion I'll need to pretend to punish you."
Scootaloo sighed. "There are worse things than being confined to the house."
"You'll also need to write a letter of apology to Celestia," Cheerilee added. "I know you were upset, but to speak like that to her was unnacceptable." Cheerilee certainly knew her daughter well, having had to deal with her tantrums several times. It seemed this incident had simply set another one of those off.
"Wait, you're not going to make me confess to something I didn't do, right?" Scootaloo asked, audibly panicked.
Cheerilee put her head in her hands. "I don't think there's any way out of this. I'm so sorry, Scootaloo."
After school that day, Cheerilee led her daughter to the streetcar stop, trying to shield her. The assembly had been absolute uproar, with things being thrown at the girls, for a crime they were innocent of. Suddenly, a snowball flew through the air and landed on Scootaloo's cheek. She screamed in pain at the gash it left.
"Scootaloo!" Cheerilee cried, looking at her daughter's face. Her right cheek had a gash in it from the impact, caused by a giant rock that now lay on the ground.
"Take that, Anon-a-Bitch!" a student shouted, before running off.
Scootaloo was crying openly from the pain, blood running down her face, and Cheerilee rushed her over to the streetcar that was waiting. It was the most tense run home they had ever had, and when they got in, Cheerilee had to disinfect the wound. It became too painful after a while, and both mother and daughter sobbed in each other's arms for what felt like hours.
Since then, Scootaloo had spent her time in the house when she wasn't in school. She wasn't prohibited use of electronics, but had to keep the curtains closed in order to avoid exposing what was really going on. Like her friends, whom she wasn't permitted to see outside of school, she had been attacked on school property and had needed to have her clothes mended a few times from the tears and cuts. It had got so bad, Cheerilee had considered pulling her out of school, but that would likely anger the Principals, whom Scootaloo had heard her mother describe as 'fucking useless'. She wouldn't repeat that though, as such a report would likely cost Cheerilee her job, and Scootaloo would never want that. She was close to her mom, and not entirely unreasonably, as she was the parent she had seen the most whilst growing up. She just hoped she was OK out in town shopping...
Cheerilee trudged through the snow, protected by her thick coat. It had been a few days from Hell. Not only had her daughter been accused of a crime she hadn't committed, she was being punished for it by the school and the students who had decided to use her as a punchbag. She had reported the abuse over and over again, but for some reason the school would do nothing. The cheer was gone from the town, no doubt about that. Cheerilee's face was set in a permanent frown over proceedings, and the fact she was being forced to lie. Not only to the outside world, but to herself, by pretending to punish Scootaloo. It felt so wrong, but she had to go along with it. This shopping run hadn't been hugely successful anyway. She had gone into the local butchers to purchase some chicken for tonight's dinner. She was cooking roast chicken and fries, which was Scootaloo's favourite dinner, in an effort to cheer her daughter up. But for some reason, the owner had refused to sell it to her, only repeating his mantra that he had the right to refuse service without giving a valid reason for not selling. Oh well. Hopefully she could buy some tuna and make a tuna sandwich for lunch today, which Scootaloo would take to like a duck to water.
As she walked along, she walked past Sugarcube Corner, and decided to pop in to get a hot drink. A hot chocolate was precisely what she needed in the cold weather, and she had happy memories of coming here with Scootaloo in the old days after school, usually getting a strawberry milkshake. Maybe they should do it again. As she pushed open the door, the place was pretty busy. Cheerilee dropped her hood and walked over to the counter. As she did so, the place suddenly fell silent, and Cheerilee was suddenly aware of everybody in the establishment looking at her. Undeterred, she rang the store bell, and Mrs Cake came through.
"Hello! What can I-" Mrs Cake's smile faded and her voice trailed off when she saw who it was. "Oh. You."
Cheerilee found this a bit odd, but continued undeterred. "A hot chocolate with cream please."
"I'm afraid I cannot do that," came the response.
Cheerilee was shocked. "Excuse me?" she asked.
Mrs Cake crossed her arms. "The management reserves the right to refuse service to customers."
"On what grounds?" Cheerilee retorted.
"Are you trying to make me call the cops?" Mr Cake added, emerging from the back of the store.
"On what charge? Asking to be served in a cafe?"
Just then the people in the cafe looked over. "Hey, look, it's Anon-a-Miss' mom!" one of them shouted.
Cheerilee groaned. "So that's what this is about," she thought. "Look, my daughter-"
"Ruined my life!" shouted one.
"Cost me my job!" shouted another.
"Doesn't deserve your love!" shouted yet another.
And then it happened. Out of nowhere, food items began flying through the air, being thrown by patrons. They landed all over the place, ice cream and milkshake splattering all over Cheerilee and landing on the floor all around her. A large muffin soared through the air and hit her in the face, causing her to stagger back and slip on spilled drink, landing on her back. She looked a mess and everybody knew it. Several people closed in as she tried to get away, but the floor was too slippery by this point.
"Maybe you should've smothered your child in the cradle, given the monster she turned out to be," said one nastily.
Cheerilee burst into tears almost immediately. Just then, another voice called out.
"BACK OFF!"
Cheerilee looked over and saw Rumble, a boy she taught in the 7th Grade, not to mention Scootaloo's boyfriend, stepping forward. "You should be ashamed of yourselves!" he bellowed. "And you, and you, and you!" He continued stepping forward, and reached to take Cheerilee's hand, helping her to her feet.
"What did she do to deserve this?" Rumble thundered. "Not only are you all jumping to conclusions, you are all hypocrites! You blame Anon-a-Miss for your problems, yet you submitted secrets to her! YOU are all Anon-a-Miss!"
Mr Cake looked over furious. "That's enough," he said. "Both of you, get out, NOW."
"Fine," Rumble growled, as he and Cheerilee prepared to leave. "Until you get your head out of your ass, I won't be stopping here anyway."
As both of them left, Cheerilee looked to Rumble. "Thanks," she said.
"No problem," the boy replied. "I don't think the Crusaders were Anon-a-Miss anyway, but how they treated you is just plain unnaceptable."
Cheerilee sighed. At least somebody was on the same page as her. "Would you like to see Scootaloo? She could do with someone to cheer her up."