Always Worth Living
Chapter Two: The Boys in Blue
Chapter Two: The Boys in Blue
Scootaloo stirred a little bit in bed, her internal alarm clock waking her. She rolled over to the position she fell asleep in and threw an arm over an imaginary Sweetie Belle; but when her hand hit the mattress, she opened her eyes to see that she was alone in the bed and the room. She yawned, rolled over onto her back, and stretched her arms and legs in bed. She then tried to rub the sleepiness away from her eyes before dragging herself out of bed; and once she was back on her feet, Scootaloo stretched again in a small spotlight of sunshine from the window. She glanced at the clock, which read about nine-thirty in the morning. Thankfully, it was Saturday.
Scootaloo took a couple steps before noticing something she hadn't when she first awoke. There was a missing agony in her left knee, and she knew the potency of the muscle rub would have already left. Scootaloo rolled up her pants' leg and unwrapped the linen hugging her knee. The bruise was still very visible (and still very ugly), but the pain and some of the swelling had subsided. The affected area was tender and only hurt when pressure was applied directly to the kneecap. She could now freely walk, run, crouch, or anything else that didn't involve her pounding her knee into a hard object.
Scootaloo rolled down her pants' leg and left the room to ready herself for the day. She found herself in a surprisingly pleasant mood. Her sleep was dreamless and therefore peaceful, and the problems of yesterday were exactly that and needed no more worry. But the actions and words of a certain curly-haired friend kept coming back. She saved her life and afterwards said a phrase Scootaloo thought no one would ever direct to her: "I love you." And when Sweetie Belle said it, although uttered as a muffled sob into Scootaloo's shoulder, Scootaloo knew that she felt the same.
But one thing nagged at Scootaloo: when she said it, did she mean it...like that? Or were her intentions more platonic? If she did intend to say it platonically, then why did she say it so softly? But then again, Sweetie Belle had always been a shy person; and she would have felt uncomfortable about it anyway.
Scootaloo shook away the rambling thoughts from her head. She decided not to let them get to her. Sweetie's just a friend, she reassured herself. Scootaloo told herself that the events of yesterday were getting to her and blamed said events for turning her soft and mushy.
Once Scootaloo's mind turned back to reality, she realized all she had done. She had showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed herself. She found her hands in the pockets of some slightly baggy, faded blue jeans and a solid grey tee shirt on her torso. The sleeves of the shirt came down to her elbow, hiding the signs of a battered girl. On her feet was a pair of crazy-colored socks, her trademark garment. These were rainbow-colored, with lateral stripes of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet squares with a single solid stripe dedicated to each of the six colors between them. Scootaloo tried not to look at them for long, since they often made her dizzy.
Scootaloo also noted her surroundings as the house's guest bedroom, and she sitting on the bed. The bed hadn't been touched since the previous night. The pillow was still missing (and remained on Sweetie Belle's bed) and the blanket, tossed over. Scootaloo decided that it was best never to think about something while doing other things; that kind of blackout startled to her.
A small growl that came from her gut told her what she had to do, and she complied by heading to the kitchen.
Scootaloo only saw Sweetie Belle in the kitchen. There were no signs of Rarity, Magnum, or Pearl. Even the family cat seemed to be making herself scarce. Sweetie Belle was sitting at the kitchen table, polishing off a few leftover drumsticks from the previous night and washing it down with a glass of lemonade. As Scootaloo figured, Sweetie Belle must not have awoken much earlier than she did.
Scootaloo took one look at Sweetie Belle's meal and shook her head. "You have the weirdest appetite ever, Sweetie Belle," she said with half-hearted disgust as she walked over to the refrigerator.
Sweetie Belle, having just bitten off piece of skin from a drumstick, didn't bother chewing and swallowing before replying. "Hey, food is food to me." She paused to gulp down the skin. "Besides, you know I can't cook, so I can't really make myself a more tradition breakfast."
With her head stuck in the fridge searching for a mid-morning meal, Scootaloo rolled her eyes at Sweetie Belle's response. "So, where are your parents and your sister?"
"I don't know about Rarity, but Mom left a note saying she and Dad had to attend to some business around town."
Scootaloo looked back. "What kind of business?"
"Doesn't say, just 'business.'" Sweetie Belle replied with a shrug.
Scootaloo didn't think much of the mystery of Pearl and Magnum's 'business.' It was their business and not hers, she thought as she grabbed a carton of eggs from the top shelf. She placed them on the counter and began a quick search of the cupboards for cooking spray, a frying pan, and a spatula. Sweetie Belle, with a mouthful of reheated fried chicken, looked upon her friend curiously, slowly chewing absentmindedly. She watched as Scootaloo turned on a burner on the stove, causing blue butane flames to flare up quietly, and cracked open an egg with the edge of the stainless steel spatula. Scootaloo poured the contents out onto the spray-coated pan. In a small handful of minutes, they soon sizzled, and Scootaloo gently flipped them over.
Another two or three minutes later, Sweetie Belle found a plate of three fried eggs pushing away the plate of empty chicken bones in front of her. The pink eyes of the yolks stared her down; and Sweetie Belle quickly looked up at Scootaloo, who offered a fork to her. She was hesitant to take it, and Scootaloo saw it.
"Don't worry," Scootaloo reassured, "There's not a whole lotta ways to screw up eggs."
Sweetie Belle took the fork from Scootaloo and cut into the yolk. The golden yellow liquid oozed out as Sweetie Belle stabbed the severed piece with her fork and stuck it into her mouth.
"Mmmm," she hummed. The egg was quite appetizing, to her surprise. "This is actually pretty good. I didn't know you knew how to cook."
"Of course I do," Scootaloo said as she returned to cook her own breakfast. "I had to make my own meals whenever my parents went out." befall
A short silence befell between the two (an awkward one at that) as Sweetie Belle quietly ate the eggs in front of her and Scootaloo frowned and cooked her own. For the first time in the morning, Scootaloo remembered what had to happen that day. And she felt that it wasn't going to be pretty or becalming.
"We still have to do that today, don't we?" Scootaloo finally said, laying her first egg onto the plate beside the stove.
"Yeah," Sweetie Belle sighed. She had to admit to herself that she didn't really want it any more than Scootaloo did, but it had to happen. Scootaloo's parents were monsters and they had to be stopped for the sake of her best friend.
"I guess we'll just go after breakfast," Scootaloo stated, turning with a frown. "The sooner we get this done, the better."
Sweetie Belle nodded in agreement. After a Sweetie Belle added with a small smile, "It'll be okay. It always is."
Scootaloo put the last egg of her breakfast on her plate just as Sweetie Belle finished the last egg on hers. Scootaloo turned off the stove and placed the pan and spatula into the sink. From a partial loaf in the cupboards, she grabbed a couple of slices of bread and laid them onto her plate.
And breakfast continued in silence.
It was a downpour outside, but it was luckily neither lightning nor thundering. It must have started before Sweetie Belle's parents had left because the umbrella stand by the door still had only Sweetie Belle's umbrella in it. Sweetie Belle grabbed it, a swirl of yellowish-green and lavender, and opened the door to leave.
Both girls were clad in a sweatshirt each. Springtime rain often made the air a little too cool for comfort both during and after the rainfall. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo stepped out onto the dry asylum of the front porch. The wind was a forceful gale, much like the day before, and nearly tore off Sweetie Belle's arm when she opened the umbrella.
There was a silence between the two during their little walk, filled with the constant pitter-patter of rain on the fabric of the umbrella. Occasionally, one of them would point out a simple observation as they walked. "Oh, look: the Cakes look like they're adding onto their shop..." or "I think Rumble's brother is teaching him how to drive." Anything just to keep any strangeness from the long periods of silence, but each attempt never moved passed the initiating sentence.
They found that the sweatshirts and the close proximity to each other under the one umbrella proved to be warm enough, especially for Scootaloo. They would occasionally knock elbows or rub shoulders; Scootaloo appreciated the small doses of contact, despite how she felt about that sort of thing in general. And she noticed that Sweetie Belle didn't say anything about stopping it or regarding the contact all together.
The police force in Ponyville, as with the rest of Equestria, was merely a branch of the Royal Guard. Both of them required the same basic training (and in some cases even shared the training); but while the main branches of the Royal Guard required stiffer regulations and more rigid training, the Royal Police, as they were called professionally, needed more 'classes.' Cadets were taught the laws regarding warrants, arrests, and rights and were taught proper police procedures—the Royal Police was less militarized than the Guard, required less physical and combative training, but required more bookwork.
Ponyville's Royal Police Department station was located on the town square, conveniently placed across from the courthouse. Not a lot of the town's mainstream businesses were on the square. Sugar Cube Corner was clear across town, and the Golden Oak Library was not far from it. On the square were a couple of local utility offices, the tavern owned by Berry Punch, a craft shop, Daisy's herb shop, and a local bank. Of course, they were the ones getting business. The rest of Ponyville's town square was just a bunch of near-condemned buildings, empty display windows, and signs of failed businesses.
The station was a simple one-story building with a basement that held the few jail cells. There wasn't much detail to it either, just the Equestrian Flag that could be seen through one of the two large glass windows. The bricks of the building were old and weathered, and the front door was a rotten piece of wood that creaked at every opening.
Sweetie Belle closed the umbrella once she and Scootaloo were under the awnings that jotted out from the buildings. They offered little protection against the wind, naturally, but did keep the two girls dry. Once they reached the station, Sweetie Belle opened the door for Scootaloo, who sighed before heading in, and patted Scootaloo's back before following her inside.
Both girls had never stepped inside a police station before, and they always imagined that they were like the ones on television. Both were quite surprised when they arrived to find no prostitutes wearing more make-up then clothing, no drug addicts itching for a fix. All they found was a quiet little lobby with a few chairs, a front desk, and an officer behind it. The officer was quite young, possibly fresh out of the academy. His goldenrod skin was blemish-free, and his chocolate-colored hair was cut into a flattop style. The latter made him look even younger and more like a rookie than the lack of commendations on his uniform. He glanced up to see the girls before returning to his paperwork.
Scootaloo took a few uneasy steps before she was pushed softly by Sweetie Belle, who followed the gentle shove with a faitheful smile and a reassuring nod when Scootaloo looked her way. Scootaloo sighed and approached the officer behind the desk.
"Um…hi," Scootaloo began with a small wave. She was nervous and unsure as to what to do or which words to use. She began to wonder why she hadn't prepared her words beforehand. But she then saw that the officer was intrigued and looking at her, so she continued. "I, uh, would like to report child abuse."
The words 'child abuse' made the officer's brow jump. "Oh, um, okay," he said as he glanced to the space at his side. He then got up from his seat and walked into the back room. Scootaloo glanced back at Sweetie Belle, and the two shared a bemused expression that Sweetie Belle complemented with a shrug.
The officer behind the desk was gone only for a few seconds before returning with a rough-looking man much older than himself. He looked about forty, and a bushy moustache adorned his lip all the while making up for the loss of hair on his head. His peachy skin bore a few freckles, as well as a few wrinkles. His uniform, in contrast to the young officer's, was well decorated with commending pins.
"Hi, I'm Officer Morning Sun," the elder man greeted with a kind grin under his moustache, but his expression soured as he continued. "Officer Summer here said you'd like to report some child abuse?"
Scootaloo looked at Sweetie Belle behind her. Sweetie Belle nodded wordlessly, and Scootaloo sighed and turned back to the officer. "Yeah."
Officer Morning Sun held open a gate next to the desk and gestured to Sweetie Belle. "Well, if you and your friend would like to come back here, I would like to talk about it."
Without even a moment's thought, Scootaloo walked through the gate with Sweetie Belle at her heels. Officer Morning Sun led the girls into the back room, which was a collection of officer's desk, about twenty in all. Including the doorway they just entered through, there were about half a dozen doorways, most of them leading to who-knows-where (at least to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo). The walls were stone bricks painted a bright white color, and the ceiling held several fluorescent lights.
Officer Morning Sun commanded the girls to stay put for a moment. They watched as he approached another officer sitting at his desk. The officer was also quite young, compared to his superior who was standing over him. He had snowy white skin, not unlike Sweetie Belle, and a smoky grey comb-over. After talking with Officer Morning Sun, the officer got from his seat, put away some paper into his desk, and followed Officer Morning Sun over to the girls.
"Ladies, meet Officer Winter Breeze," Officer Morning Sun introduced while motioning to his accompanying officer, who gave a shy wave. "He will be talking to you," he pointed at Sweetie Belle, "Miss, uh…"
"Sweetie Belle," Sweetie Belle offered.
"Yes, and I will be talking to you, Miss…"
"Scootaloo."
"Right, and don't worry, each of you will be in those two interview room over there next to each other." Officer Morning Sun pointed to two doors on the right side of the room. He then tentatively placed a hand on Scootaloo's back, but didn't remove it when she didn't flinch; and he and Officer Winter Breeze began escorting the two girls to their respective rooms. But before they entered their respective rooms, Sweetie Belle reached out and grabbed Scootaloo, bringing her into a tight embrace.
"Good luck, Scoots," she whispered before letting go.
The interview room Scootaloo was led into was ordinary, by some sort of standard that even she did not know. It just felt plain, like those interrogation rooms on television shows. That thought creeped her, but she dismissed it because of the lack of a one-way window. In the middle of the room was an oak wood table with matching chairs. Two-way windows looked out onto the rainy world and inside to the offices, and the other two walls were made of the same blinding white bricks as the rest of the building. That was it; there were no more—just empty walls around empty chairs and an empty table.
"Please, have a seat," Officer Morning Sun said as he led Scootaloo inside. He closed the shutters on the window toward the offices and turned back the girl in his company. She had taken the seat facing the right wall of the room, and she stared at her lap and the hands in them.
"Want anything to drink? Some water or a soda, maybe?"
Scootaloo shook her head without looking from her lap.
Officer Morning Sun walked from the door to his seat across from Scootaloo. "So, can you tell me who's been hurting you?" he asked as he took his seat.
Scootaloo looked up at him in a mixture of surprise and interest. Before she could say anything, he stopped her.
"I've seen quite a few abused girls when I worked in Manehattan, all of them acting like you are: not very talkative, nervous, maybe even a little scared. It's sad, really, how I can just look and tell." Morning Sun cut himself off, shook the solemnity away, and looked deep into her purple eyes. "I also imagine you want to get this done as soon as possible, right?"
His question was answered with a nod.
"So, can you tell who's been hurting you, Scootaloo?"
Scootaloo gulped not for fear, but to clear out the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth.
"My parents," she answered simply.
"How, or where?"
Scootaloo pushed up the sleeves on her shirt, exposing the evidence. Officer Morning Sun leaned forward to examine her arms. On her left upper arm, there were three large circular cigar burns; and on her right, a few vertical, shallow cuts ran parallel to one another. The burns were just starting heal, but the cuts had been healing for some time.
The officer didn't move a single muscle, wrinkle, or freckle in his face; but the angry, yet sad look in his eyes that came with these cases said it all: someone needed to burn for what happened to this poor, poor girl.
Still keeping his composure, he asked, "Can you tell me what happened?"
"Not a whole lot to say. My father gets drunk and beats me, cuts me, burns me," Scootaloo replied. "But he mostly makes sure that he does it where no one can see the bruises." Tears welled up a little in her eyes, but she was quick to wipe them away with her sleeve.
"Does you mother know?"
Scootaloo looked away. "Yeah, but she doesn't do anything except say that I needed it." She let out an exhausted sigh and laid her head on her arms.
Officer Morning Sun attempted to comfort the girl by putting a hand on her arm. "Don't worry, they won't hurt you anymore. I'll make sure of it."
"Thanks," Scootaloo mumbled from her arms.
"Do you have any place to stay for a while?"
Scootaloo lifted her head from her arms and nodded. "Yeah, Sweetie Belle and her family offered to let me stay with them."
"Your friend? Well, that's really nice of her and her family. You two must really be close."
Scootaloo allowed a small smile to grow on her face. "Oh, you have no idea. She and I have been friends since pre-school. She is literally my best friend." Then, the smile dropped to a frown. "And my only one," she muttered.
The officer furrowed a brow at that last remark. Surely, she couldn't be serious; but after a bit of scrutiny of her posture, he realized that she was. He decided against asking more about it; his job was to deal with the abusers, not her personal life. Besides, from the way Scootaloo talked just now, she was with good company when with Sweetie Belle.
Officer Morning Sun cleared his throat. "Do you mind if we take a few pictures of your arms for evidence?"
Scootaloo shook her head. "No, go ahead."
The officer nodded before getting up and heading for the door, but he stopped when he gripped the doorknob. He turned back to Scootaloo, who was back to fiddling with her hands in her lap. Poor girl, he thought. He always had a soft spot for the neglected girls that were dealt a bad hand by fate; and as with every similar case before Scootaloo, he wanted those responsible. And he wanted them today.
"Please, sit down, if you'd like," the snowy-white Officer Winter Breeze told Sweetie Belle (still holding her umbrella) as he followed her into the interview room. His voice was awkward—shy, too. Sweetie Belle thought of him to be like Fluttershy, or rather a male Fluttershy that wasn't afraid to carry a gun.
Sweetie Belle took the seat facing the left wall, which was shared with the room that Officer Morning Sun escorted Scootaloo into. The room was a complete mirror image of its neighboring room, and Sweetie Belle didn't care much for the emptiness of the space. Everything was just too simple, too plain. The walls could use a few cans of a more colorful paint, and a few shelves and furnishings could make the place more comfortable. Sweetie Belle stopped herself there, realizing that she was starting to sound like her sister—a thought that resulted in a shudder.
"Are you cold?" her accompanying officer asked, "I saw you shiver a little bit."
"Oh, I'm okay. I just had a really disturbing thought."
Officer Winter Breeze took the remaining seat in the room, across from Sweetie Belle. "So, what do you know of her friend's, erm, problem?"
Sweetie Belle furrowed a brow, not fully understanding what he was talking about. She had an idea, but she didn't want to mistake it.
Officer Winter Breeze, on the other hand, didn't really want to say the correct word. He still had a hard time trying to believe that something like this would take place in a small town such as Ponyville. It always seemed so…perfect.
"Of your friend's abuse," the officer corrected himself.
Sweetie Belle tucked her hands underneath her arms. "Not much, just whatever she told me. She said her father likes to do stuff to her when he's drunk."
"What kind of stuff?" The officer's stomach churned at the possible answers to his own question.
"I don't know. Scootaloo showed me some cuts and cigars burns on her arms. That's all I really know of."
The officer pondered what his next question should be, leaving a short stillness between them. But he just as quickly found one.
"What do you know of her father?"
Sweetie Belle thought about it a little. "Not much, really. I've never met him. I don't know where he works. Hell, I don't even know what his name is. All I know is that he's apparently a regular at Berry Punch's tavern."
"What about her mother?"
Sweetie Belle sighed. "I've never met her, either. In fact, I've really only been to her house a couple of times; and her parents were gone whenever I was there. We mostly go to my or a mutual friend's house when we hang out."
Although Sweetie Belle's lack of information about her friend's case saddened Winter Breeze, he came across another question, a more personal one, to ask Sweetie Belle.
"So, you and your friend, how long have you both been friends?"
Sweetie Belle's mood lightened up. "For as long as I can remember."
Officer Winter Breeze leaned forward. "What can you tell me about her?"
Sweetie Belle found Winter's sudden interest in Scootaloo strange, but she dismissed it being some sort of thirst for knowledge that came with a job where one spends half of one's time asking questions and the other half making assumptions.
"Scootaloo's a really complicated girl. She's unpredictable, mainly because she's spontaneous and rash. She's an athlete—a good one, too—and she wants to be just like Rainbow Dash. I'm assuming you know whom Rainbow Dash is if you've read the high school sports section of the paper any time in the last three years." The officer nodded, and Sweetie Belle continued. "She's surprisingly not very tolerant of pain. She loves pasta, her favorite being spaghetti. She—"
Sweetie Belle was cut off by the door to the interview room opening, allowing the rugged Officer Morning Sun to step in.
"Winter Breeze, I need you a moment," he said. And like that, Winter Breeze was whisked away, leaving Sweetie Belle all by her lonesome.
Muddy Water took another swig of his beer before getting up from the desk in his study to tend to that insufferable knocking at his door. His wife was in the kitchen, cooking, and refused to answer it based on the argument, "Why do I have to do everything?"
Muddy sat the bottle down on his desk and walked toward the living room, passing his only daughter's room on the way. He hadn't seen her since the morning of the day before when she went to school and didn't notice her absence until that morning. He and his wife just assumed that she was staying with a friend for a day or two. They didn't care, really. They were just thankful that she was out of her hair for however long.
With the sound of dinner sizzling in the kitchen in the background, Muddy Water opened the door. Behind it was not an expected sight: four large officers in the Royal Police, all in uniform, were standing on his porch. In the front of them was a firm-looking man with peach-colored skin. All Muddy could do was stammer out a single word.
"Y-Yes?"
"Are you Mr. Muddy Water?" the peach-colored man asked.
"Yeah."
"I'm Officer Morning Sun, and this," he held up a folded piece of paper, "is a warrant for your arrest. Turn around and place your hands behind your back, would you kindly?"
"Arrested?! On what charges?!" Muddy Water demanded as the officers made their way into the man's house.
"Physical assault and abuse of a minor," Morning Sun answered simply. Two of his fellow officers approached Muddy Water, turned him around themselves, and began placing the handcuffs on him.
Having heard the commotion from the kitchen, Sunny Day came out and saw her husband being led out of the house in cuffs. But before she could do or say anything, Officer Morning Sun noticed her and moved toward her.
"Mrs. Sunny Day, I presume."
"Uh, yeah," Sunny said quietly.
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back, would you kindly?"
Sunny's heart skipped a beat. "W-What for?"
Officer Morning Sun forcefully spun Sunny Day around until her back was facing him. "You're under arrest for the abuse and neglect of a minor," he said as he slipped his pair of handcuffs onto Sunny's wrists. She immediately began offering her objections to the charges while the fourth officer took her and escorted her out. Officer Morning Sun went to the kitchen, took the dinner of hamburgers off the stove, and placed it in the sink before following his men outside.
Having been instructed to stay by Officer Morning Sun, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle were being entertained by the young officer they were introduced to earlier and had interviewed Sweetie Belle. Morning Sun didn't give a reason as to why he wanted the girls to stay, and neither of the girls asked why.
At the moment, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had their attention on Winter Breeze's story. He was quite the verbal storyteller, using his hands and mouth to add special effects. Not only that, Winter seemed less diffident as he was earlier. He was telling stories of his days in the academy, currently in the midst of a tale (one that many would find inappropriate telling to a couple of freshman girls, even though they seemed to be cool with that sort of thing) of how before the Chief Instructor was supposed to give a speech, one of his fellow cadets had hired a girl (though Scootaloo and Sweetie understood what he meant) to hide under the podium as a little surprise.
"But here's the kicker," Winter Breeze said, leaning forward across his desk to closer himself to the girls sitting on the other side, "Our Chief Instructor was crippled from the waist down."
Scootaloo had the misfortune of drinking her cup of water, and her nose quickly became a squirt gun that sprayed her lap and her seat. Winter Breeze and Sweetie Belle proved to be too weak not to break down into gut-wrenching, side-holding laughter while Scootaloo coughed and choked on water and giggles. Winter Breeze, after a minute, managed to regain his self-control and retrieved some paper towels for Scootaloo.
As Scootaloo was cleaning herself, she and Sweetie Belle could hear the front door to the station open and close; and within seconds, Morning Sun came through the door. He took a few glances around prior to spotting them by Winter Breeze's desk and walked over.
"Good, you girls are still here," Morning Sun said, choosing not to comment on the fact that Scootaloo was trying to dry her damp lap with a bundle of paper towels.
"You told us to, remember?" Scootaloo said without even looking up from rubbing her lap.
"Ah yes, well, I just want to say that we—"
Morning Sun was cut off by some exceptionally loud grunts that came from the lobby of the station; and in walked Scootaloo's father in cuffs, escorted by two officers. He looked around as the officers ushered him through the room, and then he finally saw her. Scootaloo saw that red-eyed, scowling expression that she knew so well. Too well, in fact.
The man glowered and resisted the pull of the officers as best he could. "You little FUCKING BITCH!" he roared, lunging at her. Scootaloo flinched and took a step back; but the officers held fast, keeping the man a distance from her.
Morning Sun marched up to the officers holding Muddy Water. "I thought I ordered you to wait outside until I get you."
"I-I-I'm sorry, sir," one of the officers spluttered, "I just thought—"
"Is this the thanks I get for taking care of your little ass?!" Muddy Water howled, interrupting the officer's train of thought.
Morning Sun's attention shifted from the officer to the man in his custody. He violently grabbed the collar of Muddy's shirt and pulled him close. "The only person you've taken care of is yourself," Morning sneered. He released the man's shirt before saying to his subordinates, "Now, get him out of my sight." The officers quickly took Muddy Water (now mumbling profanities in the direction of his only daughter) through one of the doors on the wall opposite to the front.
Morning Sun sighed and turned around to see Scootaloo. She was lightly sobbing and being held and consoled by Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle tenderly rubbed Scootaloo's right arm while whispering the usual "It's okay" to her. Morning somewhat grinned at the girl comforting her friend before making his way to them.
"As I was saying, we, uh, arrested your parents," Morning Sun needlessly continued.
Scootaloo wiped her eyes with her arm. "Yeah, I can see that," she sniffled. "Where's my mother?"
"Another officer is holding her outside. I was hoping I get you two to go out the back way to prevent any more incidents," the officer answered, half-asking for them to go through the back door that led out into the alleyway behind the station.
Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle didn't waste a moment, nodding in their mutual approval. Morning Sun mimicked their nod and motioned them to follow him through the other door that stood opposite to the front of the station house and out to the cold, damp air. The rain had stopped an hour ago, and several puddles nearly submerged the alleyway. The sky remained the gloomy grey it had been all-day and forecasted the probability of more rain to come.
"Well, girls, I'm afraid this is where we part ways. Oh, and Scootaloo," Morning Sun reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card that he handed to Scootaloo, "here's my card. If you need help or just want to talk, feel free to call me."
Scootaloo took the card and gave it a quick study. "Thanks," she said simply before thinking of a question she needed to ask. "Oh, since I'm not going to be living at my house, is it okay if I get some stuff from there before you guys turn it into a closed-off crime scene?"
Morning Sun playfully rolled his eyes (something the man didn't do much of nowadays). "Yeah, sure."
Scootaloo gave the officer a nod before her and Sweetie Belle, still with an arm around her, took a right on the alleyway that led them to a street that ran off the square.
It was late in the afternoon when Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle arrived home. They had quickly stopped by Scootaloo's house to pick up a few more things for her stay (and fetch Scootaloo's phone from its resting place under the couch) until they could get Magnum to help them hull the rest of Scootaloo's room to her new home.
And fortunately, for the girls, they arrived before dinner; and having ingested nothing but a couple of cups of water (half a cup of which Scootaloo expelled through her nose) since breakfast, the nagging growls of their bellies made it impossible to walk, or so it seemed. And while the smells of the kitchen drove their stomachs mad with desire, they comforted the girls with the thought that the same aching would soon be relieved.
Scootaloo was the first to plop down at the kitchen table. Sweetie Belle had headed back to her room, offering to take Scootaloo's bag to the guest room on her way. Pearl was the only other one in the kitchen and was alternating her stirring between a pot of cooked spaghetti and a saucepan of steamy tomato sauce. She noticed Scootaloo coming in and stopped stirring the food; she rushed over and wrapped her arms around Scootaloo.
"I'm sorry what happened today," Pearl said as she squeezed Scootaloo, "Sweetie told me about it on your way home."
"It's okay, Pearl. What's for dinner?"
Pearl pulled back and gave a wily wink. "Spaghetti and meatballs. Sweetie Belle told me it's your favorite. After the day you've had, I felt that there should be at least something about today you could enjoy." Pearl returned to the food on the stove before adding, "Oh, and that stack of papers on the table is for you to fill out." She pointed to a stapled bundle of about ten sheets of paper next to Scootaloo on the table. Scootaloo grabbed it and gave it an once-over. It was an application, that much was obvious; but it lacked a decent title to give any clue as to what for.
"What's it for?" Scootaloo asked, flipping through the pages.
"It's your emancipation application," Pearl answered, giggling a little at the rhyme, "Magnum and I talked to a lawyer who's going to help you through the process. But first, we had to pick up an application from the courthouse."
"Is that the 'business' that you talked about in the note you left for Sweetie Belle and me?"
"Well, some of it. We also had to do some grocery shopping, and Magnum wanted to pick up some stuff from the furniture store."
Scootaloo looked over the application again. It didn't seem that bad, since most of the questions were a little repetitive (actually, the application asked for her gender three different times throughout the form).
She was so concentrated on the form that she didn't even perceive Sweetie Belle standing behind her; and Scootaloo jumped when Sweetie Belle asked, "What's that for?"
"Geez, Sweetie Belle!" Scootaloo sighed thickly, "Don't do that!"
"I'm sorry," Sweetie Belle offered. "I thought you saw me…but seriously, what's that for?"
"It's my application for emancipation. Your mom got it for me today."
"Oh," Sweetie Belle said, as she took a seat beside Scootaloo at the table. Just as she did, the phone in her pocket vibrated; and she reached down and pulled it out. It was a text, and the screen displayed:
"Can ya bring scoots to the park tomorrow mornin? I wanna apologize and she wont answer me back. 5:12PM Sat, Apr 12 From: Apple Bloom"
Sweetie Belle gave a short glance in Scootaloo's direction. Scootaloo was paying her no mind, still looking over the application. Sweetie Belle nodded to herself in reassurance that this was indeed a good idea and hit 'Reply.'
"Yeah, I will. I wont tell her though, she wont go if she knows youll be there. Shes still pretty pissed about friday," Sweetie Belle typed before hitting 'Send' and flashing a smile to Scootaloo.
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