Part 13
“How am I going to fix this?” Alice asked aloud, really only asking herself.
“Buddy nu tink mummah can fix. Sumtimes make mistakes nu can fix. Snowbaww tuu scawed, nu wiww wisten tu mummah nao.”
“Then what can I do?”
“Wet Buddy hewp. Take Buddy an’ Snowbaww somewewe safe, wet Buddy twy hewp Snowbaww nu be su scawed. Snowbaww nu am weady tu see mummah nao. An’…mummah nu am weady tu see Snowbaww, Buddy nyo. Mummah nee’ hewp mummah, nee’ make thinkie-pwace-sickies gu 'way befowe tawk tu Snowbaww.”
“No, I don’t want to-”
“Oh, fow fwuff’s sake. Mummah, ‘ou huwt Snowbaww tuu much! Snowbaww nu wan see ‘ou, Snowbaww nee’ feew safe, nee’ stop huwtin’! Mummah nee’ stop, nee’ nu contwow eberyting! Mummah am huwtin’ sewf tuu!” Buddy snapped. “Am wike bein’ daddeh ‘gain bu’ with biggest-dummeh babbehs. Buddy nu wan twy deaw with aww dis,” he sighed in exasperation.
“Okay, I’ll see if I can find somewhere for you two to stay for a few days. I’m sorry, I know this is hard for you, especially after everything you’ve been through.”
“Wook, Buddy nu am tuu mad at mummah, Buddy jus’ am tiwed, nu wan mowe nonsense. Mummah nee’ feew bettew befowe can hewp Snowbaww feew bettew. Mummah cawed su much ‘bout Buddy bein’ weady tu be daddeh, bu’ Buddy nu tink mummah am weady tu be mummah wight nao. Jus’ wet Buddy take cawe of Snowbaww, otay?”
“Okay, I’ll try. You’re really strange for a smarty, though, Buddy.”
“Weww, Buddy nu wan say meanie-wowds ow caww sewf smawty if nu hab tu. See wots of smawties hab huwties an’ fowebah-sweepies wen say dat. Eben wen Buddy wan die, Buddy jus’ wan die, nu wan mowe huwties. Did mummah wet munstah-hewd smawty gu fowebah-sweepies yet?”
“No…I haven’t. I should-”
“Nu, nu yet. Buddy tink mummah nee’ contwow someting, bettew dummeh smawty den huwtin’ Buddy ow Snowbaww.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever say something like that. You were so upset when I had to put down that foal.”
“Buddy am deawin’ with a wot, an’ smawties an’ babbehs am nu the same. Buddy undastan’ wut mummah am sayin’, tho. Aww dis nu am gud fow Buddy, makin’ Buddy tink wike smawty ‘gain. Su pwease, jus’ wisten an’ nu make Buddy hab tu fight 'ou.”
“I’m sorry, I was so focused on how I hurt Snowball I didn’t think about how this was affecting you. I guess we both need some time apart. Fuck, I really am a terrible mummah.”
“Weww, Buddy wast daddeh kiww Buddy’s babbehs, su mummah nu am su bad. Stiww, Buddy nee’ time, nee’ west. Nu wike tink wike smawty. Buddy hab wegwets, tuu. Nu wan ‘membew tings. Fow nao, we aww nee’ tu west, nee’ tu feew bettew an nu huwt each other any mowe.”
…
Snowball slowly woke up, feeling hazy and dull. Her vision swam for a moment before focusing on the strange place she didn’t recognize. Panic began to set in. Was this where mummah was going to give her forever-sleepies? Had she been abandoned? She hoped for the latter, but felt guilty; how could such a bad fluffy like her hope for something like that?
But part of her resisted that, fought the self-loathing that she felt. She wasn’t a bad fluffy! Mummah had forced her to give those babbehs forever-sleepies! She hadn’t meant to tell Buddy! It wasn’t fair! She didn’t deserve any of this!
“Gud bwight-time, Snowbaww.”
“Buddy!” she shouted, feeling both a little less scared and far more guilty. “Snowbaww am sowwy, nu wan Buddy tu nyo, nu wan be bad fwuffy.”
“It am otay. Snowbaww nu am bad fwuffy, nu can contwow sweepie-time-tawkies. Buddy nu am mad at Snowbaww”
“Bu’ mummah-”
“Mummah am dummeh, say dummeh tings, huwt Snowbaww, bu’ mummah nu wan huwt any mowe. Mummah hab scardies, nu nyo hao to make gu 'way. Mummah nu wiww huwt Snowbaww.”
“Munstah mummah…” Snowball murmured, still terrified of what would happen. Buddy didn’t understand! He hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the terrifying look in mummah’s eyes. She was going to hurt Snowball, hurt her worse than she’d ever been hurt before. She knew it. Mummah was gone, and the munstah was all that was left.
“Snowbaww nu tink ‘bout mummah fow nao. Mummah nu wiww see fwuffies fow few bwight-times. Mummah nee’ make thinkie-pwace-sickies gu 'way. Snowbaww am safe.”
“Bu’ munstah am munstah! Nu am mummah! Mummah am gone! Munstah gon’ gib Snowbaww biggest-owwies an’ fowebah-sweepies! Nu wan! Snowbaww nu am bad fwuffy! Munstah onwy wan huwt Snowbaww! Nu wub Snowbaww any mowe! Snowbaww am su scawed!” she sobbed.
“Mummah nu am munstah. Maybe fow wiwe was munstah, bu’ nu am nao. Nu wan gib huwties.”
“Munstahs nu stop bein’ munstahs! Munstahs am onwy fow gib huwties an’ fowebah-sweepies! Mummah am gone! ONWY MUNSTAH!”
Buddy sighed. This was going to be even more frustrating than he’d expected. He pushed down the anger, trying his best not to frighten Snowball. He had to be patient, she’d been through a lot recently. Eben if Snowbaww nu wewe patient fow Buddy, the thought came unbidden.
Fuck. He really needed some time alone, some time to rest and recover from all the nonsense mummah and Snowball were putting him through. It would have to wait, though, until the two were back on speaking terms. Until then, he’d just have to try his best to keep that part of himself buried, like he had for so long.
They sure were making it harder, though.
…
Some Time Ago
…
Harold Baker sat in the makeshift tower, scanning the farm with his binoculars. While he’d passed on the farm to Caleb when his knees started giving him too much trouble, he still helped out. Working gave him something to do and the exercise certainly wasn’t unwelcome. Better than wasting away in some nursing home. He was spry enough that he didn’t need help, he could live just fine on his own.
He spotted something, four brightly-colored fluffies and a muddy-toned one, gathered around the pond. Harold wouldn’t begrudge them the water, but he’d have to intercept them before they ruined any of the crops. Life could be harsh for feral fluffies, but he couldn’t allow them to take away his family’s livelihood.
The largest of the group, an orange woolifluff unicorn, was carrying something in his mouth. Harold could only make out what it was when it was tossed into the pond, thrashing briefly before sinking. That piece of shit was drowning foals! This wouldn’t stand!
Harold sprinted towards the pond as fast as his protesting knees could carry him, fumbling with the pellet gun as he did so. The old thing barely worked anymore, and there was no chance he’d be able to hit from the tower. Things would certainly be getting worse as he got into range, though.
…
“Nuuuuuu!” shrieked the mare, struggling to get free of the tuffy’s grip and into the pond, even though she knew it was too late. Her precious wingie-babbeh was dead, and she’d done nothing to help her. The mare struggled harder as the smarty grabbed another foal, this time carefully dropping it just on the edge of the pond where it struggled to stand in the soupy mud.
“Pwease! Wiww gib speciaw-huggies! Nu huwt babbehs!”
The smarty grinned at her and began applying gentle but increasing pressure to the babbeh, forcing his legs deeper into the mud, driving his face closer to the surface. “Nu am ‘bout enfies nao, dummeh mawe. Dummeh fwuffies nee’ huwties fow twy fight smawty. Dummeh babbehs gon’ gu fowebah-sweepies nao, an’ dummeh mawe nu can hewp. It am aww dummeh mawe’s fauwt!”
Her special-friend made gurgling noises, trying to speak but clearly unable to get enough breath with the heavy tuffy pinning him to the ground and occasionally biting down on his ears. She knew he was trying to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but it didn’t help. Nothing could help, nothing could make the pain of knowing her babbehs were all going to die any better.
“Wook, dummeh babbeh nu eben can stan’!” the smarty chuckled. The desperate chirping of the babbeh went silent as his head was forced under the mud. The smarty waited a moment, then reached down, pulling the babbeh out of the mud. “Uh nu, nu hab ‘nuff huwties yet. Babbeh nee’ huwt mowe su dummeh mummah an’ daddeh huwt.”
The babbeh drew a deep breath and began peeping once more, clearly terrified and desperate for his parents to save him. The smarty grinned wider. “Gud babbeh. Nao fow mowe fun!”
“Pwease!” the mare pleaded as the babbeh was once again dropped into the mud. “Mummah am sowwy! Nu huwt babbehs! Pwease! Babbehs am fow huggies an’ wub, nu am fow huwties!”
“Mummah? Smawty nu see mummah. Onwy see fwuffies. Nu can be mummah with nu babbehs, dummeh.”
The mare’s pleading changed to wordless sobs and wails of grief and pain and terror. This time the smarty held the babbeh under the mud far longer, pulling him out coughing and retching mud. He glanced at the foal, judging its condition, then tossed it in front of the mare. Her fit grew even more intense as she saw the babbeh’s coughing slow, then stop, his eyes staring glassily at the mummah who’d let him die.
“Thwee mowe babbehs,” the smarty said, his tone somehow even more vile. “Wun fow smawty an’ two fow tuffies! Dummeh mawe wan watch babbehs gib wut dummeh mawe nu woud?”
Her special-friend somehow found the strength to surge to his feet when he heard this, but was forced down again, harsh kicks snapping the bones in his legs, leaving him a writhing heap on the ground. The mare struggled harder, but it didn’t make a difference. She watched as the smallest of her babbehs, a little purple unicorn, was forced to the ground. Then she closed her eyes, unable to watch any further.
“Dummeh mawe nu eben gon’ watch? Nu cawe ‘bout babbehs? Weww, it am otay. Smawty gon’ gib dummeh mawe mowe tummeh-babbehs, su nu be sad.”
“Nu…” she murmured, keeping her eyes tightly closed.
“Stop!” the smarty ordered. She opened her eyes, seeing her remaining babbehs were, for now, still unharmed. She didn’t see the smarty-
“NUUUUUUU!” she shrieked as she felt the smarty mount her. She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes again, waiting for it to be over. It was painful and rough, far from the loving special-huggies her special-friend gave her. Then she felt it. Tummeh-babbehs.
“Aww, wook at dummeh stawwion. Su angwy. Nu wan dummeh mawe to be soon-mummah? Nu wan mowe babbehs? Nu wub babbehs ‘ou nu make? Am dummeh stawwion gon’ weabe poor speshow-fwiend aww awone? Wet babbehs hab fowebah-sweepies?”
“Nu! Nu am munstah wike smawty! Nu wet speshow-fwiend ow babbehs gu fowebah-sweepies!” her special-friend replied through gasps of pain.
The smarty chortled. “Dummeh stawwion, nu ebah gon’ wawk ‘gain. Nu wiww fin’ nummies. Wut am dummeh stawwion gud fow nao? Bettew gu fowebah-sweepies, nu be buwden tu famiwy.”
“Den…fwuffy…wiww…cwaww!”
The smarty seemed even more amused at this. [color=orange]“Gon’ dwag bwoken weggies for fin’ nummies fow smawty’s babbehs? Smawty nyo ‘ou nu wiww wub babbehs. Onwy twy fin’ nummies fow be gud daddeh, be gud fwuffies, but wiww awways hate babbehs. Wiww onwy see smawty wen see babbehs. Wiww onwy see smawty an’ tuffies enf-”
There was a sudden sharp cracking noise, and the tuffies shrieked in horror. She opened her eyes, seeing the smarty laying on the ground, head oozing blood. The fleeing tuffies each fell, spraying blood. Her last three babbehs peeped in confusion and fear, unable to process what was going on, but they were alive, and they’d at least been spared…that.
But it didn’t bring her any joy. Her heart felt like it’d been shattered, razor shards digging into her chest. Two of her babbehs were gone, dead. She tried to understand what had happened, try to make sense of anything. What would they do now? She was a soon-mummah again, with the munstah’s babbehs, and her special-friend was so hurt! As soon as she grew immobile, they would starve!
Not that it even mattered. Whatever munstah had killed the smarty and tuffies would certainly kill them too. All she could do was crawl to her babbehs and hold them tight, weeping at the knowledge that they would die as well. It was all over. The family they’d made was gone. Only pain and misery and death was left.
She waited, comforting her last babbehs as best she could. However the munstah had killed the tuffies and smarty seemed quick, and that was far preferable to starving, laying there bloating with that creature’s spawn. A quick death was all she could hope for at this point.
Something was walking behind her with loud, heavy footsteps. Closer and closer it came, and she felt the tiniest spark of anger, of desire to fight all this wrongness flicker to life. She turned, ready to die fighting the munstah to buy her babbehs a few more seconds of life. Eyes blinded by tears, she charged the thing.
“Whoa there!” it said, and she realized it was a human. Conflicting emotions surged in her, the instinct that said she could trust this human fighting with the hard-earned knowledge that she absolutely could not.
“Pwease,” she pleaded, even knowing that her plea would not be answered. “Sabe mummah. Sabe babbehs. Sabe speshow-fwiend.”
The human sighed, crouching down in front of her. “They really messed you all up, didn’t they. Alright. I can’t keep you personally, can’t be your new daddeh, but I can at least take you to a shelter. You’ll be safe, and your special-friend can get medical attention. How does that sound?”
“Pwease, nice mistuh…” she murmured, not even processing his words as the pain and grief overwhelmed her and she slipped into catatonia.
“I’ll that that as a-” the nice mister said to the air, both of the beleagered parents too far gone to understand him, when he was cut off by a soft gurgle. He glanced over at the corpse of the smarty, and noted that it was, in fact, still breathing. Not for long, though, with a hole through its head.
He wasn’t going to help the monstrous little creature, though. He kicked it viciously, sending it rolling into the mud at the edge of the pond, and began moving the fluffy family to his truck. It was a long drive to the shelter in town, but they deserved another chance.
As he walked away, the smarty slid deeper and deeper into the pond, coming to rest with his head barely over the water.
…
Fluffy…smarty…fluffy…smarty…FLUFFY woke up, head a throbbing mass of agony, limbs stiff and cold. Instantly he panicked as he realized where he was, but he was so weak. He dragged himself slowly through the mud, out of the pond, collapsing on the bank. His vision wavered, black spots growing and shrinking with every heartbeat.
Everything went black after that, something primal taking over. When he came to he had no idea where he was, only that he couldn’t keep going. Hunger, thirst, and pain had drained him of all strength. All he knew was that he was on the edge of a road.
He lay there, waiting for the end as his breath grew more and more labored. However, even the hunger, the thirst, the pain, the steady feeling of his body shutting down couldn’t compare to the overwhelming revulsion he felt, memories of atrocities he’d commited against those weaker than himself. As much as he wanted to believe that was a different him, he knew it wasn’t.
He was thankful for whatever had made him realize, even as he was aware that it’d certainly also killed him. Sudden clarity, understanding of the nature of the urges he’d unthinkingly submitted to all this time, that was a gift he didn’t deserve. He knew it was too late for redemption, though, and he didn’t wish for it. Come what may, he deserved it.
As the last vestiges of his consciousness left, the only thing he felt was regret that he’d never have a chance to try to make amends to the world for what he’d done.
…
Fluffy was surprised when he woke up. He tried to open his eyes, but there was something wrapped around his face, keeping them shut. He began to panic, the inherent fluffy nyctophobia made worse by the brigade of memories, images of all his misdeeds. He struggled to move, but only succeeded in twitching feebly.
“Relax,” said a human voice. “You’re going to be okay. You’re a real fighter, you know. I almost never see fluffies with that much brain damage actually pull through. Just rest.”
He felt himself slipping away again. Was this a second chance? Was he meant to live the life of a good fluffy? Even if he survived, though, he made himself a promise. Smarty would stay dead, and he would take the anger, the spite, and the cruelty with him.
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Ry very interesting development in the story! Nice touch there
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