She had never flown this fast before.

Scootaloo raced through the clouds, hooves pressed against the wound on her face, trying to stem the continuous flow of blood. Her wings shrieked at her, the pain tearing through her joints, but relentlessly she continued flying.

How could they?

Her best friends.

Her only friends.

Scootaloo shook her head, sending splatters of scarlet ichor everywhere. Her mind spun with weakness and fear.

She had called upon them two just then, and they revealed that the Cutie Mark Crusaders were over.

Just like that.

Because they didn't need anymore crusading.

They already got what they wanted.

Scootaloo shivered at the brutality of the thought.

Everything was cruel.

Everything was wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong.

She had questioned them, begged them, starting yelling and arguing with them.

In turn, they teamed up on her.

Beat her up visciously.

Snarls and jeers of 'blank flank'.

And Scootaloo shivered.

They had turned into monsters.

Her eye had gone all puffy and purple.

Just like that time when her mother and father abandoned her.

She had run after them, crying, screaming.

They, too, slammed their hooves cruelly into her face.

And left.

Just like that.

Scootaloo slowed to a stop, clumsily landing on a small grassy plain.

She couldn't trust anyone.

She was alone. Isolated in this world of terrors.

And that fact woke her up.

It was tough, growing up.