The Crunch of Broken Glass
The soft down comforter provided little ease to Apple Bloom’s busted muzzle and swollen, purpled eye. Her pillow, usually so warm and inviting, stung like the electrified tentacles of a jellyfish against her battered and damaged face. She turned onto her back and wished to sleep despite her preference for side sleeping. It didn’t matter; her body ached too much. Even her gently rolling tears scorched like sizzling grease after they struggled to free themselves from the tight, helplessly closed lids of her damaged eye.
She sniffled in the darkness of her room, cradling herself into a ball of blankets and sheets and wished to just embrace the void of sleep. She wanted to forget, to be free of her hurting body for a time. Something trickled warmly from her nostril. Uncertain to its nature, she tried to ignore the sensation.
“She won’t say what happened, Granny.” Applejack spoke from outside of Bloom’s door. Her sister was far enough away that she probably thought Apple Bloom couldn’t hear her but Applejack was loud and the words easily caught in Apple Bloom’s sensitive ears. The filly sighed and wrapped her ears gingerly with her forelegs, squeezing as hard as she dared with the seething fire consuming the left side of her lumpy face.
“That young’un has a strong will an’ ain’t likely to open up if y’all keep pressin’er. She’ll tell us in ‘er own time. Just let the poor darlin’ rest,” Granny rebuked.
Granny was worried. They all were since she came home with an apple sized swelling cinching shut one eye and bleeding from her nose and mouth. Apple Bloom twisted away from the door and plugged the face-up ear by bending the pillow around her head. It didn’t matter if she told them what had happened, nothing would change. She had gotten uppity. Had stood up for herself in the face of bullies like she had been taught and what had she gained? Being brutalized.
Monsters were real, Apple Bloom knew, but the worst monsters were ponies just like her.
Diamond Tiara… it was always her, wasn’t it? Bragging about her wealth, her fashion, the things she got to do because of her father’s money. Always above repercussions, Diamond could say whatever she wanted, do whatever she wanted. Apple Bloom had just heard too much for one day about how the Apples were ‘paupers’ and ‘mud farmers’. Her tongue had taken control of her mind and she spouted nasty notions to the rich bully: things meant to bring her down from her high horse. Apple Bloom wanted to make Diamond feel as small as she made others feel. And Diamond had beaten her up.
Nobody helped, not even Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. Oh, they hollered for an adult but didn’t physically do anything to pull the irate, fuming filly off of Apple Bloom. Even the adults turned a blind eye. She recalled Mr. Confetti, owner of the party supplies store, grimacing and hurrying away, ignoring her cries and the sickening, meat –packing noises of hoof on bone as Diamond marred and deformed her face. Her memory was strained but she was certain she saw shadows of other adults turning away, abandoning her to the whims of Diamond Tiara.
In the end, Diamond Tiara had grown tired of hitting her and left Apple Bloom in a state of dysphoric confusion. It had taken a while to get her bearings and shake the woozy, hazed fog from her head enough to remember even simple things like her name or where she was. Pain was a path and it was the beacon back to the real, unforgiving world. The giggling of Diamond Tiara and her lackey, Silver Spoon, echoed in her ears even now. They had taken pleasure in hurting her.
Filthy Rich, Diamond’s father owned so much of Ponyville that most of the residents owed him, in some fashion, for even their means of living. That’s why the adults had left her to the beating; they couldn’t afford to get involved. Apple Bloom, sick and tired of Diamond Tiara, had been alone.
She couldn’t tell Applejack. The Rich family bought most of the apples they grew each year. They had the power to cause significant damage to Apple Bloom’s family’s finances. She’d just have to make up some lie to tell. The thought made her queasy and something like a lump of coal felt lodged in her chest. She couldn't even tell her family the truth when it came to Diamond Tiara.
The titter tatter of the others died down over time and quieted altogether as the deepest part of the night transformed the windows of Apple Bloom’s room into onyx mirrors, reflecting the filly’s malformed face, in all its horror, back to her. She lay transfixed by her own ugliness for a long time. On the verge of crying, she stared for what seemed an eternity.
“ApPlE bLoOm?” a voice called from under the bed, shrill like hooves on a chalkboard but somehow thick like dripping honey. The filly fumbled a weak smile and rolled to peak over the ledge of the bed.
"Mr. Crunchy?" the child asked.
"HeRe." The answer sounded like the crunch of broken glass.
“Mr. Crunchy, how are you tonight?” she asked weakly, voice teetering on the edge of sobbing. Words hurt her mouth as she formed them and the pain reached like billowing willow branches into the deeper recesses of her head. She couldn't recall when Mr. Crunchy first came to her but she was certain it had been a long time ago.
“YoU sAd? YoU CrY?” the voice replied. It sounded like twigs snapping in the woods at night.
“It’s okay. Just a bad day.” Apple Bloom stretched to her nightstand. She knew not to jerk the chain, Mr. Crunchy hated light. She found the apple she always kept there and picked it up. The apple was heavy and round, bursting with tingling flavor. Apple Bloom lowered it gingerly below where the blankets hovered in the black gap between bed and floor. Something took it in a quick, hard snatch and the sound of crunching apple flesh followed shortly from beneath the bed.
Apple Bloom looked into the window mirrors but only saw what might be rippling oil from beneath the bed. She had never seen Mr. Crunchy but he always came in the longest hour of the night when her room felt untethered from reality, swaying in the great sightless void outside of her walls. She kept an apple for it, always; he was hungry a lot.
“ApPlE bLoOm GoOd To Mr. CrUnChy. I HeLp. HoW?” the thing said like a splintering tree.
Apple Bloom was quiet but began to sniffle and then to sob. She hadn’t cried on the streets of Ponyville nor to her family when they demanded an answer for her state. She held strong, like an Apple should. She had held back the emotions but the dam was cracked from holding in the truth. Finally, it broke and she wailed into her pillow and wiped at her bulging, throbbing eye. The voice below was silent as she did so, whether it was listening or had gone Apple Bloom couldn’t tell. After a time she regained control of herself and felt a little better.
“I don’t know if you are still there but I need to talk, even if it’s just to get it off my chest. This mean, rich girl beat me up today. She’s snobby and thinks she’s so much better than everyone else just because her family is wealthy. Everybody in town is scared of her dad so they let her do whatever she wants. I … I told her she was a brat and everybody hated her. That money didn’t mean she could push everyone around and make them feel bad. Then she knocked me down and hit me … over and over. Nobody would help, not even my friends. Not … not even my friends.” Again her heart hurt at the thought of Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. Where had they gone? They weren't around when she finally came to.
Apple Bloom looked into the window panes again and her damaged eye disappeared into the abyss, part of it, one with it. Silence again filled the room and the filly realized she was alone. She nestled into her bed again and tried to sleep. Her heart hurt deeply and she realized that she wasn’t just upset; she hated Diamond Tiara. She had never felt hatred before but now it scratched at her innards like a beast.
“Mr. CrUnChY aPpLe BlOoM’s FrIeNd. HeLp.” The voice was like the cracking ice in a black, frozen sea.
Apple Bloom winced and sighed softly, “How?”
“Go. ViSiT bAd PoNy WhO hUrT fRiEnD. CrUnCh HeR.”
The filly grimaced and sat up in her bed. “I hate her, Mr. Crunchy, but it’s … it’s wrong to …” she paused. Diamond Tiara’s family had all of Ponyville in their grasp. They hurt her friends in so many ways, bent them to their will and made those who dared to question their actions pay. Nobody in town was safe from them, the Rich family were monsters.
“NaMe … NeEd NaMe To EnTeR,” Mr. Crunchy said in a voice like rolling pulverized stone.
Apple Bloom thought for a moment. It was wrong but something in her squalled in rage as she gazed once more at her bruised, bumpy face in the window. Her heart felt as though it stopped and her face scrunched in anger. She felt it consume her like a roaring fire, “Diamond Tiara.”
She didn’t hear the owner of the voice disappear but felt its presence dissipate. She knew she should feel bad but she didn’t: she felt good. Great, in fact. Her bed felt more comfortable suddenly and sleep stroked at her injuries, soothing them as she floated down into the pillows.
Apple Bloom couldn’t hear the shrieks from Diamond Tiara’s room. She couldn’t feel the breaking bones or the splintering, jagged teeth that consumed the bully. She wouldn’t see the stringy, torn remains of what used to be Filthy Rich’s daughter the next morning. All she felt was warmth.
Monsters were real, Apple Bloom knew, but the worst were ponies … just like her.