//------------------------------//
// Picked Up 
// Story: Kicked 
// by Teq 
//------------------------------//


Picked Up


“Sweetie Belle?”
“Yea, Scoots? What do you want?” Sweetie Belle sat up in the guest bed, rubbing sleep from one of her eyes. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. One in the morning. She moaned softly.
“I… I had a nightmare.”
“Scootaloo, you’re sixteen years old, you don’t need to come to me every time you have a nightmare.”
“Yea, but… This one was really scary.” Sweetie Belle sighed, running a hoof through her mane as Scootaloo stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking at her.
“Fine. Do you want to talk about it?” Scootaloo nodded gently. “Okay, well come here and I’ll listen. Then you need to go back to bed, okay? You need sleep and quite frankly so do I.”
“Sorry. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Trust me, Scoots, it’s no problem at all. Come here and sit down.”

Scootaloo had been staying with Sweetie Belle for about a week now. It was about a week ago when she’d… Well, when she’d tried to take her own life in an act of selfishness. Since then she’d been staying with Sweetie Belle, too scared to venture back to her parent’s house where the left overs of her terrible deed were likely still there, waiting to entice her back in, or just to break her back down again. She hadn’t been going to school anymore. Since her suicide attempt she didn’t feel she could face going back where she knew she’d likely get bullied and picked on even more, driving her to yet another attempt to end her existence. Sweetie Belle would get up before her every morning and go to school, and Scootaloo would just wait, almost alone, for her to return. She did have Rarity to talk to, but Rarity had been avoiding her like the plague after Sweetie had told her why she’d woken up one morning and Scootaloo was in Sweetie’s bed.

Scootaloo navigated her way to the bed with little difficulty, despite the pitch blackness of the room. She sat down on the bed and could make out Sweetie Belle sitting up next to her. Scootaloo said nothing. Sweetie sighed again, “Are you going to say anything?”
“Give me a minute. I’m still a little freaked out.” After a few moments of deep breaths she finally began talking. “Okay, so I was in my parent’s house, right, but it was different. I don’t know how it was different, it was just… well different. Something felt off, but it was real subtle and I don’t know what it was. Anyway, I was in my room, in my bed, and I’d woken up for some reason. I decided that the best way to get back to sleep would be to get something to drink from the kitchen, so I got up, left my room and went down to the kitchen to get a drink.”

Sweetie Belle nodded and gently held Scootaloo’s hoof as she began shaking a little. There was a moment of silence, in which Sweetie said, “Are you going to continue, or have you had enough?”
“No, no. I’ll continue. Okay, so I got the drink, and then I heard something. Something like a crashing noise like something being knocked over. I didn’t know what it was and I was scared that somepony had broken in, so I picked up one of the knives and slowly made my way out of the kitchen. For some reason every room in the house had disappeared except the living room, so I went there. When I looked around the corner I… I…” Scootaloo sobbed, fear constricting her vocal cords and preventing her from speaking.
“Sssssh, it’s alright. I’m here. It was just a nightmare, you can stop if you wish.”
“I… I saw you. You were there. But you weren’t, like, standing there or sitting there or anything, but you had a noose on and you were hanging from the ceiling, and you were just dangling there, spinning slightly, just staring at me without blinking. And then next to you I saw my mother, also hanging from the ceiling, and next to her was my father, and there was a note on the floor below you, and when I picked it up and I read it, it…” Scootaloo was openly crying, tears streaming down her face as Sweetie Belle held her tightly in a warm embrace. “It said ‘We did this because of you’ and it just kept repeating that over and over and when I put the note down you were looking down at me, and I can remember asking ‘why?’ and you just laughed and said ‘we did this because of you, Scootaloo, we did this because of what you did’. And then I screamed and you started laughing and I tried to run but I couldn’t and I was crying and then… And then I woke up.”

Sweetie Belle stroked Scootaloo’s mane gingerly as she cried into her chest, soaking her fur with her sorrow. Scootaloo sniffled, “The worst part was that you never said what it was I did. Now I’m scared that I’ve done something and you want to end your life and it’ll all be my fault and I’m such a useless, pathetic pony!”
“Calm down, Scootaloo, calm down! You’re getting all worked up over nothing! There, there. You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to do that, and there’s nothing you could ever do that would drive me to even consider it. Please don’t worry about it; it’s just a nightmare. Look at me,” Scootaloo looked up into Sweetie Belle’s caring eyes as she smiled back. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. Don’t pay any attention to those nasty dreams. Just let them fade away and don’t give them a second thought.” Scootaloo sniffed once.
“Thanks, Sweetie Belle. You’re the best.”
“I’m only being a good friend. Now are you going to go back to bed now? You need some good sleep after such a bad nightmare.”
“Well… see that’s the thing I… I’m kinda scared. I don’t want to be alone. And I left my Wonderbolt toys at home so I really have nothing to hold onto to help me go to sleep so I was wondering…”
“If you could sleep in here with me?” Scootaloo looked away shyly as Sweetie Belle held her close.
“Yea. I’d like that.” Sweetie sighed.
“Okay, I suppose you can sleep in here for one night. I can’t have you getting dependant on me. You’re supposed to be recovering, remember?”
“Yea, yea. I know. You really are the best, Sweetie.”

Sweetie Belle shuffled over to one side of the bed and Scootaloo slid herself under the covers on the other side. She squirmed around a bit trying to get comfortable. Sweetie looked at her, “Comfy?”
“Yea, I guess.”
“Good. Good night, Scootaloo.” Sweetie rolled over onto her side as Scootaloo curled up into a ball under the covers.
“Yea. Night.” Scootaloo lay in silence, trying not to think about her nightmare. Sweetie Belle was still and silent, only breaking the silence occasionally with a long, quiet breath. The room was dark, Scootaloo observed, which was good. Scootaloo could never get to sleep if the lights were on. It just annoyed her. Still, she was awfully cold. How did Sweetie Belle sleep in here? There must have been a draught or a window open or something, because Sweetie Belle’s room was so much warmer.

Scootaloo rolled her tongue around in her mouth and bit her lip nervously. Eventually she turned her head a little, “Sweetie Belle?”
“What now, Scootaloo? You can’t have had another nightmare in the space of… fifteen minutes.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that… I’m cold.”
“Do you want me to get a blanket?”
“No, I was kinda hoping that… you know… that we could…”
“Snuggle?”
“Stop finishing my sentences for me.”
“If I didn’t finish your sentences then you’d never finish half of them yourself.”
“So um… Can we… Snuggle, then?”
“Alright, if it’ll make you happy.” Scootaloo grinned as Sweetie rolled herself over and slid her fore hooves around her waist, gently squeezing her close as her hooves folded over Scootaloo’s belly. She could feel Sweetie’s body heat beginning to soak into her and she quickly felt a lot better. This was the first time in a long time she’d snuggled up to anypony, the last one being her mother when she was only a little foal.

Scootaloo could feel herself getting drowsy as Sweetie’s rhythmic breathing, combined with the joy of physical contact gently lulled her into a light doze. She was brought sharply back to her senses, however, when she felt Sweetie’s hind leg curl around her, essentially spooning her in a warm embrace that made her feel safe and secure. She heard Sweetie whisper, “I love you, Scootaloo.” Scootaloo giggled.
“Sweetie, are you awake?” Sweetie didn’t respond, but simply nuzzled into Scootaloo’s shoulder, which tickled but felt really good. She wanted more, but she could feel herself drifting back into her trance of a sleep and her grip on awakeness was fading. Scootaloo didn’t think Sweetie talked in her sleep, past sleep overs had been enough to prove that, so was she awake? Or was she actually asleep and Scootaloo just hadn’t listened carefully enough in the past.

She felt something warm, wet and slightly rough rub against her neck. It ran up from her shoulder and up to the base of her skull, tickling Scootaloo even more but making her feel good in a way she’d never felt good before. She giggled, “Come on, Sweetie, I know you’re awake.”
“No, no, I love you, Scootaloo.”
“Yea, you said, but I know that you’re… ah… awake.” Sweetie licked her tongue up the length of Scootaloo’s neck again, this time planting gentle kisses at regular intervals along the length. Scootaloo shivered, not from cold but from pleasure, revelling in the sensations setting off fireworks in her brain with every lick and kiss and gentle nibble of teeth. Sweetie moved on from Scootaloo’s neck and wrapped her mouth around one of her ears, gently sucking on it as Scootaloo moaned softly. That felt good. Really good. Why did that feel so good?

Sweetie gently began to nibble on Scootaloo’s ear and she giggled again, “Sweetie, that feels really good! Please, keep doing that. You have no idea how great this feels!”
“I love you, Scootaloo.”
“I know, you’ve said that a couple times before.”
“Scootaloo, I love you.”
“I love what you’re doing to my ear, it’s amazing!” Scootaloo lay enjoying the contact in a way she hadn’t enjoyed anything before. Scootaloo was still trying to discern whether or not Sweetie Belle was asleep or just trying to mess with her, either way she didn’t mind. She actually preferred the latter, because then it was likely she’d be aware of what she was saying. She wanted it to be true. She wanted Sweetie to mean it. The last pony to say that to her had been her mother, just before she… well just before she was taken from her. Scootaloo liked the idea of having somepony there that loved her. That really, truly loved her. It made her feel warm inside, like she was safe. Just knowing somepony cared.

Sweetie Belle gently began to massage her hooves over Scootaloo’s stomach, rubbing slowly up and down and making her shiver in mild ecstasy. She looked over at the pony next to her, “Sweetie, this isn’t helping me fall asleep. But it does feel good.” Sweetie didn’t say anything, she gently leant over and placed an awkward kiss slightly off to one side of Scootaloo’s muzzle. She giggled, “Not, quite. My mouth is over here.” Scootaloo took hold of Sweetie’s muzzle gingerly and guided her into contact with her mouth, letting Sweetie do the rest of the work. She felt Sweetie’s tongue begin to brush against her lips, so she opened her mouth slightly to allow her access. Their tongues began to playfully wrestle with each other, turning each other and each struggling to gain an advantage.

Scootaloo was happy to share the experience. She’d never kissed anypony before, but if this was what it was like, she wanted more of it. And she wanted it all from Sweetie Belle. For a couple minutes she simply lay and enjoyed the sensation of Sweetie playing gently with her. Sweetie’s eyes slowly opened and a look of confusion came over her face. Scootaloo smiled, Sweetie’s tongue wrapped around hers. Sweetie blushed hotly and immediately broke the contact, splitting a thin strand of saliva between them. There was silence for a moment, in which Scootaloo just panted softly. Sweetie moaned and planted her hooves into her face, “Oh my gosh, Scootaloo, I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry for what?”
“I shouldn’t have done that! I’m sorry I was asleep. I was having a dream and I was kissing you and it was nice, but I had no idea what I was doing, I’m so sorry!”
“Oh. Okay, well, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed! I’m so sorry Scootaloo, I promise it won’t happen again.” Scootaloo was silent for a minute, not sure how to respond.
“Okay. Uh… sure, that’s cool. I guess.”

Scootaloo curled back inside herself. She’d wanted it to be true so badly. So very badly. Why did this sort of thing always happen to her? Why was everything good immediately snatched from her before she could really, truly enjoy it? Well, that wasn’t especially true; Sweetie was at least still there for her. Still, she wanted Sweetie to truly love her. And not just for the snuggling and the kissing and the cuddling; but for the knowledge that there was somepony that was there, always. But Sweetie Belle was there, always; she was always there to help her, she didn’t need to call her marefriend for that. But she wanted to call her marefriend. She wanted to so, so badly.

***

Scootaloo woke up. Where was she? She looked around. Hmm, this looked like her bedroom. Yes, it was her bed, her Wonderbolt merchandise, her dresser, her paint scheme. There was nothing on her bedside table, but she checked anyway. Oh, a glass of water. That’s not normally there. She usually didn’t take a drink to bed. Not since she was a filly anyway. What time was it? Midnight. Why had she woken up at midnight? Hang on, the hands weren’t moving. Had her clock stopped? It looked dark enough to be midnight. She began to push herself out of bed. Maybe one of the other clocks in the house would reveal the true time.

Oh, that was odd. She was a lot shorter now. Almost as though sleep had shrunken her. Maybe she was just tired. She made her way to her bedroom door and slowly pushed it open. It was dark in the passage outside. She stepped into the hallway. Straight ahead was her parent’s bedroom. She glanced at the large wall clock at the top of the stairs. How odd. The hands on this clock had stopped too, and they were likewise stuck at midnight. Why was this happening? This was all very peculiar.

Wait, what was that noise from downstairs? Sounded like somepony crying. She went carefully down the stairs, trying not to make a sound. She reached the bottom of the stairs and a rush of wind swept through her mane. Wait, what? This wasn’t her house, this was an alleyway! She looked back at where she’d come from. Nothing but a stark brick wall. Why was she here? More importantly, how had she got here? Behind her was Ponyville, with a few lights still on and the odd pony walking past. There was a breeze in the air, and it felt like a pleasant summer’s night.

The next thing she knew was a face full of brick wall as somepony pushed past her in a hurry. She called over to him, “Hey! Get back here! What was that all about?” The pony ignored her and continued running, a look of panic on his face. Scootaloo let it slide. She wasn’t going to bother chasing him. She’d just tire herself out.
“Help!” What was that? No, who was that? It came from the alleyway. It was a weak cry, choked almost. It sounded as though somepony was in trouble! She had to help. She rushed down the alley in the direction of the cry. She skidded to a halt, listening, hoping for another call.
“Somepony, please help me!” There it was! Weaker this time, but more distinct, as if it had come from right next to her.

Scootaloo turned and looked down. She recoiled in surprise. At her feet was a mare, hunched over on the floor, a pool of blood collected below her. Scootaloo leant down and looked closely. The pony was clutching at her stomach, the hilt of a large knife protruding from it. Her blood was spilling out over her clasped hooves and her life was beginning to wane, “H-help me…”
“It’s okay, I’m here! I’ll get an ambulance, wait here!”
“Help. Somepony, anypony, help me.”
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay, I’ll go get help.” The mare looked up, into Scootaloo’s eyes. Scootaloo didn’t react at first. She studied the face; purple eyes, like hers, soft features, a well-kept purple mane. Wait, she knew that face. It was her…

“Mother?”
“Help me, please!” She was beginning to cry, tears streaming down her face.
“Mother! Don’t worry, it’s alright, I’m going to get help! Don’t you worry about a thing. Except that… knife… in your stomach. But seriously though, I’m going to help you, I’ll get an ambulance or something, let me help you!” Scootaloo was beginning to panic. She was beginning to well up with tears herself. She reached down to try and grab hold of her, trying to hoist her onto her back. Something stopped her from grabbing her. It was like an invisible pony had grabbed hold of her hoof and was pulling it back. She fought it, but it was much stronger. Her mother keeled over, blood spilling out from the corner of her mouth as she took her final breath and her heart ceased beating.

Scootaloo screamed, thrashing about but to no avail as her vision faded into blackness. She felt conscious, but now she couldn’t see anything. She flailed around, then felt something beneath her hooves, something soft and fuzzy. She looked down. She was standing on a cream white carpet. She looked back. There were the stairs leading up to her room. She turned to one side. There was the living room, from which she heard the sound of somepony crying. She made her way towards the noise. She peered around the door frame, looking into the room.

She noticed immediately the black uniform worn by the police pony, a young stallion with a purple coat and blue mane. He was looking down at his hooves, his hat on the floor in front of him. He wasn’t crying though, so who was? Also, why were the police in her house? She looked around. On the sofa, another pony, another stallion. This stallion had an orange coat. He was a pegasus, like her, and he sat hunched forward with his face planted into his front hooves. He was sobbing loudly. Wait, wasn’t that her father? Yes, yes it was. What was happening? The police pony traced his hoof in a small circle, “I’m very sorry to have to break that news to you. If there’s anything we can do to help you, we will.”
“Just get out.”
“Pardon, sir?”
“Just get out of my house! Leave, now!” Her father was shouting, pointing his hoof towards the open doorway where Scootaloo was stood, watching.

The police pony bowed his head. Replacing his hat, he rose up and walked slowly out of the door, with a quiet mutter of, “I’m very sorry for your loss.” The police pony began to fade, almost as though he weren’t real. He faded from existence just as he crossed the door frame next to her. She looked back at her father. Wait, that wasn’t her father. Where had he gone? Who was this new pony sitting where he’d just been? She walked slowly into the room, trying to catch a better glimpse of the pony. It was a mare, that much was certain. Purple mane, purple eyes… well, it could be her mother. But wait, she had an orange coat, so it couldn’t be her.

What? The Scootaloo before her looked up. It was uncanny. Two Scootaloos, staring into each other’s eyes. Scootaloo looked intently. How could she be here? The floor beneath her hooves seemed to disappear. Scootaloo fell, screaming. She was falling into blackness, a blackness that seemed to never end. She screamed, but her scream was quickly cut off by the feeling of something wrapping around her neck. She started to choke. She looked down. She was hanging from the ceiling, below her a chair lay kicked aside. She clawed at the rope around her neck, struggling to breath.

She saw Scootaloo claw at the rope around her neck, struggling to breath. She screamed. Wait, what? Who was she now? She was seeing herself die, right before her. She panicked. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed one of the knives. She made an about turn and hurtled back into the room where she saw herself hanging limp, twitching slightly. She sawed as quickly as she could, the rope splitting and her lifeless body falling to the floor. She removed the noose from her own neck, crying. She thumped the ground next to her and howled in despair. She grabbed hold of the knife and…

Woke up. She sat bolt upright, panting hard, sweat pouring from her body, her mane in a mess as she looked around. Where was she? Somepony’s bedroom, she couldn’t tell whose. She looked down at the pony next to her. Sweetie Belle was curled up, fast asleep. Scootaloo threw her face into her hooves and sobbed, shaking  violently. When she’d regained control of her body and mind, she turned to the pony sound asleep next to her.

“Sweetie Belle? I’ve had another nightmare.”

End.