//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: Going "Home" 
// Story: Misery 
// by ImpendingDoomxXx 
//------------------------------//


Misery


Chapter 2


I walked out of my math teacher's dark classroom and into the blinding light of the hallway. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the transition, but upon adjustment, I noticed that there were no other ponies in the hall, not students or other teachers, or even custodians. It was so quiet. The school just felt weird without a bunch of bustling ponies trying to get here and there.

I walked through the brightly lit corridor that led to the exit doors to the school building. Even though the hallway was blindingly bright, the sunlight coming through the windows was brighter. From the other side of the hall, the doors seemed to becon to me as if there was something outside that I needed to see.

As a matter of fact, there was a very important sight for me to behold: all of the school carriages had already left, and the sun was halfway through the evening sky, giving me the realization that my story had taken a lot longer to tell than I had previously thought or even imagined. But with the carriages already being gone, I would have to walk nine miles to get to my foster parent's house.

I was in no hurry to get back, so I set out at a light pace and started thinking to myself about all of the things life has dished out to me. My parents are gone, leaving me to wander from home to home of ponies who don't care about me. Everyone says that i'm very smart, which I do and don't agree with, but I do agree with the fact that I have no will to use what I have. I have many skills but no motivation to enhance them so that they can take me places. My grades are somewhat faltering for no apparent reason, besides that I never do my homework nowadays. I've let myself fall way out of shape

Sadly, a few of my classmates have told me that they too live in foster homes, but their tales tell me that they are the few lucky ones who land in loving homes, or at least non-abusive homes. I wasn't so lucky this time. "It's almost sunset, they will surely beat me again for coming back this late," I said with a deep sigh of impatience. I wasn't impatient to get back, I was more impatient to never have to go back. The others say that usually their foster parents would call after them or come up to the school looking for them, just in case it might be a bad accident that made them late or something else. Not mine. Even if i were in the hospital, they wouldn't even come to check out the damage. They would just say something on the lines of 'Find a way to pay for your bills, and your in trouble when you get back to the house'. It disgusts me how they can have such a blatant look on other ponies lives.

"Halfway there," I said, "maybe they won't beat for being late this time,"...as soon as I noticed what I had said, I felt immensely foalish and stupid, "right, and pigs will fly and the moon is made of cheese," I said. "I wonder what they are going to do," I said quietly to myself, "probably the usual, grab the nearest thing that they can swing and beat me until' they get tired," I gave an involuntary sigh.

Most other ponies would shy away from being struck because of obvious reasons. Not me. I've found that in my four years of living with this family, the more I react to the beating, the more I scream, the more I cringe, the more I avoid the swings, then the more they beat me. The longer the sessions last, the more I hurt. So now I just give a blank face and stare off at something, or just limp by body to try to let the limp muscle absorb more of the power, or more prominently, both.

Sometimes these actions help, other times it doesn't. Sometimes not showing signs of affliction makes them stop sooner and just send me to my room without dinner or make me clean the house or something else. Other times, not showing any emotion makes them much more angry than what ever I had done, and they up the scale on the beating with harder hits, or a harder object.

I can't help but believe that some ponies would call me weak or a wimp, but those feelings go away when I envision that kind of typical pony going through what I go through. I always envision this big "tough" pony sniveling in the corner and shrieking whenever the next swing comes through on it's trajectory. I don't understand why, but whenever I think of these things, I feel...good, like unhealthy good, like I enjoy imagining other ponies feel pain. Sometimes I scare myself back into reality, like just now.

There is a joke or, more appropriately, a saying that goes around amongst abused foals that goes, 'the harder the object, the less amount of hits you take before it stops". With my fosters, thats seldomly true. There is no telling who will do the beating, or how long they will beat me for, but one thing is sure: it won't stop until' they think that I got the message.


***

I am walking down an unpaved road that runs through a very shallow mountain range. I used to come here and sit on the cliff edges whenever my foster parents were looking for something to get me into trouble about, or after a beating. I would stare off into the horizon or the setting sun and imagine a world where I was in a loving home, or where my parents were still alive. Sometimes, I would think about jumping off, I always wondered how much it hurt, and how long it would hurt for. But as is obvious, I never acted on those feelings.

The sun is just about to set, so I take a few minutes to walk to the edge of the cliffs and watch the beautiful light transition. The sky is a dazzling hue of cherry red, then it changes to a brighter shade of dark pink, then on into a deep orange glow. I stared in awe of this amazing sight, 'it's times like these that i wish i was a pegasus' I thought to myself, 'then i could fly up to the top of one of these clouds and watch from on high'. 

Just then something ripped me out of my thoughts, it was a single tear running down my cheek. I wipe it off with a hoof and look at it. In this single, small, insignificant, little speck of fluid contains the essence of an emotion that i've not felt in many years. It symbolizes happiness, something that nothing has caused me to feel in nearly eleven years.

Due to of this realization, I decide to sit back on a rock and watch the sun set completely. I watch as the sun lowers further down past the horizon. I watch as the colors change from hues of red to hues of blue, starting with a deep blue sky going to a light blue aura around the sun and then to a yellow sun.

Then I see a quick flash of green that explodes and rushes through the sky in a single rippled wave that started at the sun and ran the distance of the sky to the other horizon. "What was that?" I ask out loud. After a few seconds another green flash speeds across the entirety of the sky. And now I start thinking of what it could be, but I soon give up for none of my assumptions made any real sense. And I finish watching the sunset.

My favorite color scheme comes through now, a black sky that drops down to a deep purple sky closer to the sun, then goes through multiple different shades of lighter purple as it get closer, and the the most beautiful, most radiant color that I have ever seen the sun take on: it had taken a bright magenta core that bled into a fuchsia outer shell.

I sat on that rock face for a few minutes after the sun a had completely crossed the horizon to leave this half of the planet shrouded in night. I kept thinking of the sun and how perfectly breathtaking nature can be sometimes. I almost wanted to go back in time by five minutes to watch the whole thing over again.

"I guess I should finish getting back, it's only another quarter of a mile." I said to myself. So I started walking through the dark, down this tree lined, rock infested road. Shortly after I started, a nice cool breeze started blowing. I liked the sound of nature at it's most serene, it really was beautiful, and it was really relaxing to hear the swaying of the trees and the rustling of the leaves as the wind raced through the branches.

I lost track of time while listening to the trees in the wind and after what seemed like just a few seconds I arrived at the house. I cross the yard and as quietly as possible make my way up the front porch steps. I cross the porch and open the front door, nopony was in the front hallway, 'thank goodness' I thought. I come in and close the door behind me as quietly as I possibly could.

I make my way down the hall past the kitchen, empty. 'good, its empty'. Then just as I put one leg into the view of the den's doorway my foster father piped up, "Where have you been?" he said in a completely emotionless tone. "I decided to walk home so I could get some fresh air and some much needed exercise." I lied through my teeth. "Really? For once you did something for a good cause without being forced to? I think ill let you slide on this one." When those words glided into my ears I felt as if I had been hit by a freight train and there was nothing left of me, it took me a few seconds to realize that I was just given leniency. "You missed dinner, there is a plate in the refrigerator for you." He told me. "Thank you, sir."

As i walk to my room to put away my saddlebags I can't help but wonder why I wasn't confronted and questioned like I was hiding a secret from him or something. I kept feeling as if I had walked into the wrong house. I kept feeling like for some reason, he didn't hate me as much anymore.

I went back down to the kitchen to get the food that was left for me. As i walked through the hall I was confronted my my foster mother, who commenced screaming at me. "Where have you been? Why were you not home on time? You missed all of your chores and I had to do them for your lazy, worthless ass!" but just then, my foster father came into view and stopped her. "Thats enough, i've already spoken to him, and he's already received his punishment, leave him be." as I was hearing this I couldn't help but stare with a dumb look on my face. 

'had my foster father just stood up for me?' I thought while re-heating my food. I felt so weird that I ended up eating very little of the food that was left for me.

I went upstairs and got a shower to wash the perspiration off of me from my walk. After my shower I laid down in bed, my head was swimming with complete confusion. I had no idea what was going on, why had my foster father had stood up for me, to his wife no less. I was so worked up with my thoughts that I felt like I might be sick.

I spent a few minutes clearing my head and fell asleep. I had a deep sleep, and I wondered what would happen tomorrow.