• Published 27th Feb 2012
  • 3,538 Views, 56 Comments

Broken - PinkamenaPiePrincess



Scootaloo struggles with her home life even as she begins to realize it was never her home

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Prologue: Unwanted

"Worthless son-of-a-bitch!!!" Scootaloo heard her mother scream from the hall.

"At least I'm not a disgusting whore! No wonder our daughter is so useless!" her father's voice screamed back.
There they went again with that word. Useless. Disgusting. Worthless. All of those words that Scootaloo had heard about one hundred times, all used by her own parents to describe her. She wasn't those things, or at least she didn't feel like she was around her friends. But when it came to her parents, she never seemed to obtain the love she so desperately craved from them.

The two pegasi continued their screaming, but Scootaloo had blocked out the words. Opening her window she climbed out on to the street, thanking Celestia for the millionth time that she had a first story bedroom. The duplex where her family lived was in a quiet, but somewhat shady, section of Ponyville, so Scootaloo made sure nopony could see her as she snuck into the garage to get her scooter. She hated doing this, it just wasn't fair. But her parents' screaming would keep her up all night if she didn't go some place else.
Flapping her wings, she put the scooter into her "go mode" as she liked to think of it. She might not be able to fly, but using her wings to power her scooter was one of the best ideas she'd ever come up with. Just as she was about to speed around the corner, she slammed straight into one of her neighbors, Vinyl Scratch, who lived part time in the second half of the duplex when she wasn't playing in Canterlot or living with her girlfriend, Octavia.
"Woah, woah, woah! Where're you goin' kid?" The easy going DJ asked her. "Parents goin' at it again?"
Scootaloo nodded, not looking Vinyl in the eyes. The DJ was the only pony that understood what it was like for her at home, so Scootaloo trusted her, but she didn't want to make that obvious.
"Ok kid, I won't say anything, but be careful alright?"
Scootaloo nodded and sped off toward Sweet Apple Acres and her only refuge: the Cutie Mark Crusader's clubhouse.

Parking her scooter in front of the beautifully painted staircase, Scootaloo removed her helmet and climbed up the stairs to the tree house. Unrolling one of the sleeping bags the three friends kept in the tree house, she settled down on the floor to finally get some sleep.


Sometime later, two familiar voices woke up the orange pegasus.
"Is she asleep?" Sweetie Belle asked.
"Ah wonder what she's doin' in the tree house instead of at home," Apple Bloom wondered.
Scootaloo groaned. Her friends had had a habit of finding her at bad times.
"What's up guys? What are you doing here so early? It's Saturday!" Scootaloo said, plastering on her usual energy.
"Scootaloo, it's past ten!" Apple Bloom declared. "What are ya doin' in the tree house? We weren't havin' a sleepover!"
"Oh you know, just...my bedroom got hot so I came out here!"
Apple Bloom seemed to accept this answer, Sweetie Belle stared confused at her for a minute then nodded.
"Oh ok, I guess..." the unicorn said.
Scootaloo sighed inwardly. Her friends didn't know the details about her home life and she really wanted to keep it that way. She'd dodged yet another bullet.
"So what are we going to do to find our cutie marks today? Skydiving?" she asked, changing the subject to something all of them would be willing to talk about. The three friends eagerly delved into plans for their cutie marks, all strangeness of Scootaloo's sleeping in the tree house forgotten.

Much later, Scootaloo was heading home after a long day of crusading. Pushing herself to her top scooter speed, hoping to make it home before her mom, who would undoubtedly find some reason to be angry if Scootaloo didn't get home before her. Scootaloo wheeled her scooter around the back of her house and let herself in. A quick look and listen around told her neither of her parents had made it home yet. She breathed a sigh of relief. Quietly she crept up to her room and collapsed on the bed.
They never wanted me, I remember them saying that much. Scootaloo thought, thinking of the time she'd asked her mother how she'd met her father. Her mother had glared at her, but told the story anyway, probably as another way to make Scootaloo feel bad about existing.

"Your father and I were high school sweethearts. I got pregnant with you while we were still in high school and I had to drop out."
And that's all she'd said. Met in high school. Got pregnant. Dropped out. Subtext: your fault.
Even the ponies who were nice to her didn't really want her around. Rainbow Dash, her hero, usually wrote her off as just another fan. Scootaloo reached under her bed, pulling out a secret box painted in rainbows. In this box was her secret "Rainbow Dash Collection." Things she'd found, borrowed, or sometimes stole, from Rainbow Dash. An old, preserved apple core Dash had asked her to throw out. Several photos of Rainbow Dash, a Rainbow Dash doll. A lock of Dash's hair, cut from her tail. Scoots hoped nopony else would ever find this box. It was her secret, and just a little creepy. But it calmed her down when she'd had a bad night. Miss Cheerilee never seemed to notice when something was wrong with Scootaloo either, or if she did, she never acknowledged it. Not that Scootaloo wanted to be taken away from her home or anything. She just needed to prove to her parents that she was talented, by learning to fly and getting her cutie mark. Then they wouldn't call her useless anymore.
Applejack and Rarity, Apple Bloom's and Sweetie Belle's sisters, respectively, saw the most of Scootaloo besides Rainbow Dash, Cheerilee and Vinyl. But like the other adults, they seemed not to realize that something was going on in Scootaloo's life more than the silly concerns of an 8 year old filly trying to get her cutie mark. To her, the fact that most of the adults in her life were totally clueless to Scootaloo's home situation pointed to a fact she'd known for a while. Adults weren't nearly as intelligent and perfect as they liked kids to believe.