For all my witty remarks, well-constructed lies, and self-proclaimed fast wit, I had nothing to say as I stared at the piece of paper before me. It was as if a weight was pressed down on me, and I had to find the magic words to make it go away.
The best I could do was stutter like an idiot.
“Umm… I, uh… As… As flattering as this is, I really don’t think I’m cut out for child care. Maybe-”
I had to stop myself from flinching away when Officer Lucky put what he thought was a comforting hoof on my shoulder. “Daymos, when I said she’d taken a liking to you, I meant it.”
Stop touching me.
“Ever since the nurse told Scootaloo how you rushed her in and demanded to see a doctor, she hasn’t stopped talking about you. Considering the circumstances, I think she’d-”
If you’re fond of that hoof, then you’ll stop touching me. NOW.
“That’s why you’re the best option we-”
“YOU’RE LYING!”
I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard that high pitched scream.
That desperate wail.
“Come on, follow me!” Officer Lucky said as he got to his hooves. I opened my mouth in protest, but he simply ran off, leaving me in the dust. Having no other choice, I got up and followed him down the hall, past the receptionist’s desk, and into the hospital room of one angry little orange filly.
“You’re lying!” She cried as she flared her wings defiantly. “There’s no way! You’re lying!”
The officer who had become my scapegoat was doing his best to calm Scootaloo down, but his words were falling on deaf ears. “Listen, I’m sorry to say this, but it’s true she’s-”
“Melilot! Just what’s going on in here?!?” Lucky cried as he burst through the doors with me — begrudgingly — on his heels.
“She kept asking me where her mother was!” he yelled defensively “I tried to dance around the question like you said, but she wouldn’t drop it!”
Well... On the bright side, his incompetence makes him an even better scapegoat than I thought.
Lucky’s face twisted in a combination of shock and anger. “You told her?”
It was Scootaloo’s turn to look shocked. “Y…You mean he’s not lying?” she asked Lucky, utterly destroyed.
Lucky ran a hoof through his mane in frustration before turning to Officer Melilot. “Get out in the hall. I have to have a few words with you.”
Melilot gave his partner a look of disgust. “You can’t-”
Lucky stepped forward with a look in his eyes. A look only I thought I had nailed down.
“Now.”
His voice dripped with malice and contempt, shaking Melilot to his very core. I could visibly see the hairs stand on the back of his neck.
I’m starting to like this cop…
“Can you please watch her for a minute?” Lucky asked as he stepped out into the hallway
Warning bells went off immediately. Kids were far from my specialty. “Actually-”
Before I could get a word in edgewise, he closed the door and left me alone with a little girl who just found out her mother was dead.
Great… What am I supposed to do?
Taking a stab in the dark (something I was actually good at), I walked towards the crumpled, weeping form on the bed and sat down next to her.
“There there…” I said as I tried my best to comfort her. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“How could it?” she asked curtly. “My mom’s dead…”
You’re not making this any easier on either of us…
“I know what you’re going through is tough, but-”
In one swift motion, Scootaloo got to her hooves and stared daggers at me through her tear-filled eyes. “How could you?!?” she yelled. “How could you know what’s it like to lose someone like that?!?”
“Well, both of my parents are dead,” I said plainly.
Scootaloo’s scowl softened as my words sunk in. “R-Really?” she asked timidly.
“Well, yeah, come to think of it. My mother died when I was around your age. So I kinda do know what you’re going through.”
Scootaloo looked up to me with those wet eyes of hers and spoke nearly above a whisper.
“H…How did they die?”
“Well... It’s kind of a long story.”
At that moment, I realized this little girl and I had something to talk about. And I didn’t have to lie.
* * *
Are you sure you want to hear this story?
“Yeah… I wanna know. Like, what they were like and stuff.”
Well… My mother and father got married after high school due to some unforeseen consequences.
“What do you mean?”
I mean, my mother was pregnant with me. So, they got married and settled down. They bought a house with a white picket fence out front, a big back yard, and a basement for my dad’s brewery.
“Brewery? What’s that?”
It meant he had a place to make his alcohol. My father’s special talent was making beer, something he was quite proud of. Unfortunately for my mother and I, brewing beer meant someone had to taste it… And that’s how my father got a taste for his own brew. It was a few years before my mother died that he started drinking more. And with his excessive drinking came those violent mood swings.
“You mean he’d get angry?”
Yeah. He’d yell — a lot. At me, at my mother, and the house plants… Anything. After all the yelling, he’d get apologetic and weepy and my mother would forgive him. But it wouldn’t last. When I was your age, my father drove my mother out of the house. She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why would he do that?”
I don’t know. He just did. Those cruel, hurtful words he-
“What words?”
I…Uh… Grown-up words. Best not to repeat them. You’ll learn when you’re older.
“Aww…”
As I was saying… He said things to my mom and she couldn’t put up with him anymore. So in the dead of night, she left him and headed for the big city. Manehattan, to be exact. She always loved to sing, so she thought she could strike it big. Maybe be someone famous and come back for me when she could support both herself and me. At least, that’s what it said in the note she left me.
“Did she ever become famous?”
…No. But she did make it in the papers. Albeit, not in the way she envisioned. She was stabbed in an alleyway not four days into her trip. I remember answering the door and seeing that police officer on our doorstep. My father couldn’t believe what he was telling us. I could barely understand it, but I managed to piece together the fact that I wasn’t going to see my mother ever again.
“Were you sad?”
Of course. She was my mother. I had loved her with all my heart and I’d never hear her sweet voice ever again. It hurt for days. And then weeks. When months passed, it started to hurt less.
“Is… Is that how it works? Just…wait?”
You know that adage ‘time heals all wounds’?
“Yeah…”
Well, things aren’t going to be easy at first. It’ll hurt a lot. Then… Slowly… Things will get better.
“…What about… Did… Did they ever catch them?”
Who?
“The good guys. Did they get the one who hurt your mom?”
Oh, yes. Him. He stayed on the loose for quite a while. But the good guy caught up to him years later and made sure he paid for his crime.
“Oh, well, that’s nice…”
Yes… The look on his face when he was caught was priceless…
“What?”
Oh. Uh, nothing. Just thinking about his picture in the paper and how shocked he looked. Like... Like he wasn’t expecting anyone to catch him
“Oh… Um, what about… What about your dad?”
Ah… Him. I didn’t feel too bad about when he passed. While my mother’s death was tragic, my father’s was to be expected.
“What do you mean?”
My father’s drinking only got worse after my mother’s death. One day, he just… drank himself to death. I wasn’t home when it happened.
“Where were you?”
* * *
I stared at her for a few minutes, at a loss for what to say. It was as if she just asked me to tell her where babies come from. I couldn’t tell her the truth. At a loss for words a second time today, I tried my best to act nonchalant and bide for time.
“What?”
“Where were you? When your dad died, I mean.”
Quick, think of something. Something believable.
“Oh, I was spending the night at a friend’s house. We were camped out in the backyard.”
Great. You’re set as long as she doesn’t figure out you hate camping. Or didn’t have friends.
“What was it like? Finding him like that?” Scootaloo asked as she curled up to me.
“It was… sad. I mean, I was talking to him the night before and he was gone the next morning. You never-”
I stopped myself as I heard her sniffle beside me. It was then I realized I struck a nerve.
I found myself running a hoof through her mane as fresh tears started to spill. “Sorry… I’m sorry.”
Why am I not freaking out about this? I’m touching her.
“I-It’s not your fault… It’s just… Why’d she have to go? Why did it have to happen” she asked as she tried to wipe away her tears.
I let out a deep sigh and found myself stroking her mane again. “I don’t know. But when those nice police officers have an answer, they’ll tell us.”
“Yeah… You’re right.” Scootaloo said as she stifled a yawn.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” I said as I covered her up with the blanket. “I’ll wake you up later.”
Her eyelids drooped as I got off from the bed and made my way for the door. Before I could make my way out, she stopped me. “Thanks, Daymos. For everything.”
I felt a smile creep across my face as she drifted off to sleep. “You’re welcome.”
As I closed the door behind me, I ran a hoof through my mane and across my face in frustration.
“What the hell is happening to me?” I hissed under my breath.
That little filly was doing something to me, bringing out my fatherly instincts, maybe? Or… Or was I seeing myself in her?
A childhood scarred by loss.
My childhood. My fractured, twisted childhood. Thoughts and feelings twisted by grief and a gruesome discovery that changed my life forever and made me who I am today.
Oh, I will never forget that day.
The day my father died.
And I was born.
* * *
From the dingy little shed out on the outskirts of Ponyville, I stared out at the moonlit gardens.
Waiting.
It was nearing the end of the school year and I had done so well that I could afford to skip that entire day.
And I needed that time. Those flowerbeds weren’t going to unearth themselves.
But what was I doing? I asked myself that so many times in the dark. During so many shovels full of dirt, during all that planning.
In the dark of the night, I gripped the shovel tighter.
I’m waiting… I thought calmly to myself. I’m waiting for him.
Yardstick.
My teacher.
When I was Scootaloo’s age, he was the school teacher and he ruled with an iron meter stick.
A meter stick he was more than happy to hit little ponies with, or so the rumors went.
But rumors always seem to be based on some element of truth. True, he did hit ponies with that meter stick of his, but he preferred to discipline fillies instead of colts. And he’d go out of his way to make sure they got punished.
A little orange filly was the next on his list to be punished. She kept skipping school to work with her family and when Yardstick confronted her, she told him to go buck himself. A week's detention, he said.
And from what I had gathered, fillies disappear when they have detention with Mr. Yardstick...
I remember freezing when I heard his hoof steps and saw the shine of his lantern illuminate the shed.
A creature of habit… I thought with some level of relief. After following him for weeks, I was sure he would show up tonight.
I held my breath as I listened to him through the shed wall.
“Good evening, my little beauties...” he said aloud as he walked towards the flowerbeds. “And how are y-”
I felt myself smile when I heard his breath catch in his throat. He just discovered my little project. His pride and joy, those six flowerbeds he routinely talked to the class about, were dug up and empty. And he was scared.
“Nonononononono. NO!”
Listening to him stumble in the night, I urged him, pleaded him. Come on… Look harder. Find the trail of dirt.
A little mess I made just for him to get him where I want.
“Wh…What’s this?”
Bingo…
I gripped the shovel tighter as I heard his hoof steps make their way to the shed door and held my breath as I watched the door open wide, almost enough to touch my nose.
Yardstick’s lantern shone inside the shed and revealed the little macabre display I made of his trophies. He simply stared at them with a dumbstruck look on his face.
“What… What are you all doing here?” he asked in disbelief.
He ambled to the six little bodies arranged in the center of the room with each skull staring directly at him.
It took me hours to dig them all out and even longer to get all the dirt off of them.
Some were so old and decayed they… fell apart in my hooves.
“Who brought you here?” he asked aloud.
“Me.”
He turned around just in time to watch the shovelhead connect with the side of his face, knocking him out cold.
As his body slumped to the floor, I raised the shovel above my head and brought it down on his skull.
And I did it again.
And again.
After the final strike, I stood there, shaking.
I killed him, I thought shakily. I killed my teacher.
And I enjoyed it.
Sure, it was bloody and overly messy, but I had fun.
And did a good deed in the process.
I remember looking to the six tiny bodies of the fillies he had killed over the years and then to him.
This is no good… I have to clean up. Make this all disappear.
Setting to work, I gathered up my impromptu murder weapon and began the arduous task of burying the poor girls he did unspeakable things to.
Snowfall… Bubble Blower… Sweet Pea… Cherry… Sweet Pop… Cotton Cloud… That’s all of them.
I knew each of their names, thanks to Yardstick’s compulsive filing need. And lack of common sense. To think he’d just leave a diary of his exploits there in the shed, right in the drawer near the desk.
With the girls taken care of, I turned my attention to Yardstick and set upon the gruesome task before me.
“You never did like me,” I grunted as I dragged his body out of the shed. “You kept telling my parents that I needed discipline; that I needed to go to a reform school or even military school. You kept saying there was something wrong with me. Well-”
With a final heave, I pushed his body into the seventh flowerbed, just large enough for a full-grown stallion.
“You were right.”
Burying Yardstick was the easy part. It was cleaning the shed that was the challenge.
Red, sticky, awful blood was everywhere.
On the floor, on the walls, on the ceiling…
I spent hours upon hours scrubbing that shed from top to bottom, scrubbing and scouring every trace of blood. I could have stopped washing after the first few hours, but I cleaned until the sun came up. And why wouldn’t I? I was scared. Everyone in town knew Yardstick and they’d notice if he just disappeared.
I didn’t want to get caught.
Don’t get caught. I thought to myself. Rule one, don’t get caught.
I remember going home for new water and clean rags.
It was then I should have noticed my father was lying face down on the couch, but I had other things on my mind.
It wasn’t until morning that I noticed he hadn’t moved the entire night.
And that during my late-night cleaning, I had gotten my cutie mark.
To think, two important events like that, just slipping me by.
* * *
“Daymos?”
Officer Lucky’s voice snapped me out of my stroll down memory lane and brought me back into the land of the living.
“You okay? You were staring off into space for a while.” He said as he sat down next to me.
And at that moment, I realized I was back in the waiting room.
Okay, maybe I can see missing those events… I thought with some level of surprise.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Not a problem,” Lucky said as he reached into his coat. “But I hope you were thinking about what to do with Scootaloo because I need an answer.”
“What?”
“She’s going to be released soon and she doesn’t have a place to stay. It’s with you, or I’m going to have to take her to the orphanage.” He said as he produced the temporary custody papers again.
Looking at those papers again, I wondered what was so threatening about them before. Taking the documents from him, I got to my hooves and made my way back down the hall.
“Where are you going?” Lucky asked aloud.
Ignoring his questions, I made my way back into Scootaloo’s room and knocked on the door, waking her from her sleep.
“W-Wha?” She asked hazily.
“Hey. Sorry to wake you, but I have something to show.” I said as I near the foot of her bed.
Scootaloo gave me a puzzled look as I handed her the custody paper. “What’s this?”
“Well, you need a place to stay until the police can find a legal guardian to watch over you. So, what do you think?”
I couldn’t believe I was offering this to her. But there I was, offering her free reigns to my dark abode where my trophies sat beneath the floorboards.
“You mean… You mean I’d be staying with you? Like, in your house?” she asked with a puzzled look.
“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”
Scootaloo stayed quiet for a while before she started crying again.
“Hey, hey,” I said as I moved beside her. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“Nothin’,” she said as she shook her head. “I’m just happy.”
“So, that’s a yes, then?”
Without a single word, Scootaloo jumped forward and wrapped her hooves around my midsection.
“Yes. Thank you so much.”
I did my best to suppress a shiver of disgust from the unexpected hug. As much as I was starting to like the little filly, physical contact like this was still a no go.
“Y-You’re welcome…” I said as I tried to pry her off gently.
Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?