Abandoned Angel
Part 27: There’s Something About Mary
Mary was excited. Things were going so well with Robert. He even invited her out for coffee on Saturday. Time to check on her fluffies, Mary entered the safe room.
Flame, the monochrome red earth type, was cleaning up Rose, his lime green mate. Mary taught him quickly what happens if he doesn’t keep Rose clean. Mary had performed the amputation on Rose personally, leaving the mare completely legless. Runt, the black and pink Pegasus was curled next to Rose. Runt’s wings hung lifelessly at his sides, useless since Mary cut all the tendons and muscles going to the wings.
“And how are my wonderful fluffies doing today?” Mary asked, cheerfully.
Rose loved her mummah, “Wose tummy feew funny.” She tried to roll about to show her mummah, but only managed to rock a bit back and forth.
Flame, slowly backing away from Mary, spoke softly, “Fwame gud fwuffy, make babbehs wike mummah wan.” His head was down, staring at the floor. As usual, his fur was a mess, matted and dirty. He never cleaned himself, always taking care of Rose.
Runt, always nervous and scared around Mary, feebly dragged his body to the litter box, his rear legs as limp and lifeless as his wings. He did his best to stay quiet, not wanting Mary to turn her attention to him.
“Soon, my little fluffies, we’ll have a new daddy. And maybe, he’ll even love you three and the new babies more than I do.” Mary watched as Runt tried his hardest to get to the litter. He was much quicker at it when he was smaller, but now that he was fully grown, it was almost pathetic. She wasn’t too fond of the runt of the litter. Mary picked up Runt, holding him away from her body, her arms straight out.
“Nu nu nu nu! Nu hewties!” Runt trembled in her grip. “Pwease, mummah, wet go. Nu hewties!”
Mary scowled at him, “I was helping you to the litter box.”
His trembling continued. Flame, glad her attention was on his child, ran into the corner, cowering. Runt would learn, Flame knew. He would learn the hard way.
“Nu, pwease, nu hewties!” His front hooves flailed, smacking at her arms. Mary squeezed him, hard, working her hands down his body, squeezing hard. His body squirming, his voice squealing, as she forced the shit out of him.
“Never, ever, talk to me like that. You’re only alive because I haven’t ended your pathetic little miserable life.” The last bit of shit squeezed out of him into the litter box. Mary dropped him onto the floor. Runt landed on his rear legs, an audible muffled snap. She didn’t know if he broke both legs, but she didn’t care.
“OWIES! Huuu!” Runt started bawling, covering his eyes, if he couldn’t see mummah, she couldn’t see him.
“I can still see you, you worthless stupid piece of fluff.” She prodded Runt in the chest. Each nudge harder than the last. The nudges turned into small kicks, each kick forcing to the other side of the room. “When I get back you better be back in bed, or I’ll hurt your special place very, very badly.” She grabbed his wing and twisted, eliciting a painful yelp between the sobbing.
Mary left her miserable family alone, locked in the bleak safe room. Rose, as always, oblivious to the abuse about her, sang to herself about having babbehs. “Wub babbehs. Best babbehs. Mummah wub babbehs best! Gunna hab babbehs.”
Runt cried, the bed was so far away! His rear weggies didn’t work. They were bad weggies, the worst weggies. The worst weggies for the worst fwuffy, he thought. His wings didn’t work. They were the worst wingies for the worst fwuffy, he thought. He wanted to call for his daddeh, but that wouldn’t work. Flame never gave him huggies. If mummah ever caught Flame giving huggies both of them got the worst owies. Rose, his real mummah, never gave huggies, she didn’t have any weggies. Maybe she was a really bad fwuffy too.
He tried to muster his strength to crawl back to the bed. Runt tried so hard to drag himself to the bed, so very hard. His rear legs dragging behind him and caused him the worst owies. Every inch causing great pain as he cried and cried. Flame watched from the corner as Runt crawled back. Flame knew if he helped Runt and his mummah saw, he would get the worst owies too.
It felt like forever but Runt made it to the bed. His body shaking as he curled up next to Rose, sobbing. Rose ignoring her child as he cried in pain. She had new babbehs to care about, babbehs that were good! Flame finally walked over to the bed. “Wunt bad fwuffy. Wunt nu talk to mummah wike dat. Wunt make mummah gib bad owies to aww fwuffies.” Thwack! Flame smacked Runt on the nose.
Runt’s eyes went wide, “Owie!” His hooves covering his nose. “Nu bad fwuffy!”
“Wunt bad fwuffy! Wowst babbeh. Bad babbeh. Bad fwuffy!” Flame smacked him again with his hoof. Over and over his hooves came down on Runt’s face and head. Runt’s cries got louder, Rose sang louder to drown it out. “Nu talk bad to mummah!” Flame bit at Runt’s ear, hard enough to draw blood.
“Huuu… nu hewt! Runt bad fwuffy! Wan die!” Runt tried shoving his head under Rose.
Flame bucked at Runt’s broken rear legs. It was a harsh lesson Runt needed to learn. He would have even given Runt angry poopies if mummah wouldn’t make him clean it up. Flame walked around to the other side of Rose and curled up against her. He could barely hear Runt’s cries of “wan die” from under Roses’ fluff.
Runt sobbed into his mummah’s fluff. He just wanted huggies and wub. But mummah couldn’t give huggies and daddeh wouldn’t. Daddeh only gave owies. Runt cried harder. Maybe if he was a good fluffy he would have gotten huggies and wub, but he was a bad fluffy. Bad fluffies get owies. He was the worst fluffy. The worst fluffies shouldn’t want huggies, they should only “wan die.”
Later Mary returned to the safe room to top off the kibble. She noticed that Runt had received a beating but said nothing. He only cowered against Rose and wouldn’t look at her. Flame remained in his corner, his favorite hiding spot, whenever she came into the room.
“Eat up, Rose, Gotta make me some good healthy babies.” She shoved the dish under Rose’s muzzle. Mary took a step back and squatted down, observing her fluffies. Rose was obedient because she didn’t have a choice. It helps that she mentally broke her down when she was a filly. Flame, he was a bit harder to break, but he was mostly well behaved. She didn’t know what to do with Runt.
Runt burrowed as far as he could under Rose. His nose hurt. His head hurt. His ear hurt. His wing hurt. His legs really hurt. Most of all, he hurt inside. He wanted to die.
“Runt. Get out from under her.” Mary commanded.
Slowly he pulled his head from under the fluff. “Yesh, mummah?” he asked quietly the fluff around his face sticking to his skin from all the tears.
“Eat.”
“Yesh mummah.” Painfully he pulled himself to the dish, fighting back tears and cries of pain. Unable to contain it any longer he cried into the dish as he ate.
Mary watched for a bit longer, musing the fact that Flame had beaten him while she was gone. She wasn’t displeased over that. She wanted him to keep Runt and the soon to be born babies in line. Mary reached out, tweaking the bitten ear and not letting gow. Runt yelped in pain, kibble falling from his mouth. “Next time you are a bad fluffy, I’ll make sure you get even more owies. Got it?” She squeezed even harder and shoved his face into the kibble.
The safe room door closed, Mary could barely hear the muffled cries of “wan die.” She smiled.