My Sister Fluttershy

by brokenimage321

Scene 9: Int., Home, Morning. Age 13

“April!”

At the sound of Mom’s voice, I groan. I don’t want to get up for school today. I want to lie here in my bed, safe and warm, maybe forever.

“April! Wake up!”

I don’t feel very good. I decide I’m not going to school today. I’m going to stay right here and try to get better. “Leave me alone, Mom,” I mutter.

“April! Wake up right now!”

She sounds frightened. Is something wrong? I open my eyes a crack to see what she wants.

What has she done with the lights? Everything’s orange...and fuzzy...

I gasp, and my vision clears. I lie in the thick cold mud at the base of a tree. The sun sets over the forest, bathing everything in acid orange. Mom hovers over me, eyes wide, body covered in fear-sweat. I try to stand, but searing pain brings me down again.

“April, don’t move.” Orion is here, and a few of the other counselors, too.

Mom looks up. “Skit-tlle! Over here!” she shrieks

I look up at her. Mom shakes like a leaf, bulging eyes darting like mayflies. Skittle and Gullywash come over a rise, Skittle’s eyes full of tears.

Tears.

Fluttershy!

I struggle to stand again. "Mom... "

“April, don’t move. Help is on the way.”

Mom glances nervously over her shoulder. She hasn't heard me.

"Mom... Fluttershy...!"

She whips around to face me, eyes wide. She glances around again, then looks at me. She licks her lips and opens her mouth.

"April, she—she's gone."

My eyes go wide. I turn to look at Orion. He bites his lip. “There’s… there’s no way she could have...”

Something deep inside me snaps, and I collapse back into the mud.

My sister Fluttershy. Gone.

And it’s all my fault.

If I hadn’t pushed so hard for her to come to camp… if I had stopped the bullies… if I had held the flag myself…

It’s my job to protect my little sisters.

And I failed.

I slowly realize I’m lying in a hospital bed. One nurse is trying to get the mud out of my coat, and another is wrapping bandages around my head. They ask me not to move, and to try not to talk.

I have nothing to say.

Mom and Dad come by to visit almost every day. Mom doesn’t say much; she mostly sits in the corner and cries. Dad talks, though—he tells me how he’s been searching for Fluttershy every second he can. He’s even got the police involved. As far as anyone can tell, Fluttershy fell in the heart of the Everfree Forest, and they’ve been going in as deep as they dare. They haven’t found a thing—not even a feather. Dad is always tired, but he’s exhausted when he comes to visit. One day, he even falls asleep in his chair. I’m worried about him.

Sometimes they bring Skittle. She never says anything—she just sits there and looks out the window. When Dad asks her questions, her responses are short and harsh. I think she’s mad at me.

Two weeks later, they let me go home. Camp is over, but school hasn’t started yet, so I fly down to the forest. I dart among the trees, hiding from the monsters I know are there, looking for something, anything, to give me hope. Every day, I come home from the forest empty-hooved and weeping.

Sometimes I see Dad, a long ways away, searching through the trees too, and, for some reason, that makes me feel worse.

One day I come home to a cold dark house and a note on the table.

There’s been an accident. Come to the hospital.

I dash into the emergency room, panting, to see a crowd of ponies in Weather Factory uniforms. They’re all talking over each other, and I have no idea what they’re actually saying. I ask a nurse where my Dad is, and she points me down a hallway. I sprint past room after room of families around the bed of a pony in a factory uniform. I bite my lip. They’re all okay. Daddy’s okay too.

As I approach the room at the end of the hall, I hear shouting. I see Mom and Skittle sitting against the wall. Skittle is crying, and Mom is staring at the wall, eyes glassy. I skid to a halt just outside the door.

A crowd of doctors are gathered around the bed. All I can see are machines and tubes and bandages. The doctors are all shouting orders at each other. I try to lean around them to get a better view, but there’s too many.

For just an instant, there’s a gap in the crowd. My breath catches in my throat.

I see Daddy’s soft blue legs.

Covered in bandages.

Stained dark red.

I sink down onto the cold linoleum.

No. Not Daddy, too.

I wear a black dress to the funeral. I stand in the front row. Mom sits next to me in a wheelchair. Skittle stands on the other side of her.

The preacher says a few words over Daddy’s grave. I don’t listen. I’m playing with my nametag from the Factory. I’ve worked there ever since Dad died. The Factory paid the hospital bills, but nothing else.

We needed money.

I had time.

I went to the Factory and punched Dad’s card.

I look at Mom. She stares straight ahead. She hasn’t said a word since Dad died. She just stares at the wall all day and all night. Right after he died I got on my knees and begged her for help.

She didn’t hear me.

Skittle looks away. She won’t talk to me. She blames me.

I blame myself.

The preacher finishes talking and closes his book. Two ponies with shovels come forward and start pouring shovelfuls of dirt on Daddy’s coffin. As Daddy disappears forever, I suck in a deep, shuddering breath.

Fluttershy is gone. Mom is broken. Skittle hates me. Dad is dead. And I—I work in the factory that killed him.

I no longer have the strength to cry.