“Again.”
The exhausted colt exhales and takes a deep breath in. Opens his eyes. Showtime.
“Hewwo muh hunneh, hewwo muh dawwin, hewwo mai wagtime gawwwwww…” The big babbeh was panting, he’d done this so many times. Mummah just kept making him! He’s too big to be a dancie babbeh, let alone a dancie babbeh on hisback weggies! But whenever he tried to stop, his mummah would just yell at him! It gave him the worstest heart hurties.
“Jesus, that’s still not good enough. What the hell is wrong with you?” She’s cutting him off mid song, he didn’t even finish! He sits down on his haunches and starts crying into his front hooves, hunched over his chubby babbeh belly. “Oh, what? Now you’re crying? Pathetic. Stop that!” He winces at her yell, shrinking back in fear. "Fuck! Stop it! Stop crying! Fucking shut up!" She smacks him in the head, knocking him over. “Huuuu owwies, nu huwt Bwadfowd! Am twying weawwy hawd!” He’s dizzy as he picks himself up. When his mummah hits him in the head he tends to fet that way. It’s scary, but it usually goes away before long. Usually. He figures that’s fine. No need to bother his mummah about it.
“He…hewwo muh babbeh, hewwo mai hun-”
THWACK
A switch his mummah pulled from the tree out back lashed his tummy viciously. “NO! NO! NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” She stands up over him, blinded by rage. Hitting him again and again and again, whooshing and swishing as she does. He’s trying to shield himself from the blows with his weggies, and they do what they can. Each lash tears open skin, bruises deep tissue, etches itself on his psyche.
He’s disappointed his mummah. Mummah is always disappointed in him.
"You’re a bad baby! You’re a bad baby so momma doesn’t love you!" Seemingly worn out from the beating, she relents. She retreats back to her chair, leaving the sobbing bloodied mess on the basement floor.
The cold concrete did little to numb his pain. He was still hiding behind his hooves, still quivering in anticipation of the next blow. But it never came. He opened his eyes and peered out to see…
Nothing.
Mummah had gone. This was how these sessions usually ended. Mummah would beat him so bad he thought he’d die, then when he was too worn down to struggle or beg she’d stop. She’d lose interest entirely and leave him in his basement.
It wasn’t big. There was only one light, and a drain in the floor. There was a chair where his mummah would sit, and a ratty towel he slept on. A bowl of kibble she’d refill most days. Not today, though. Just the scraps he’d been too hurt to eat yesterday.
As he crunched the kibble between his budding teefies he winced. He’d only been weaned for about a week now, and his mummah had made life a nightmare since then. He missed his bruddas, he missed their fluffy mummah. He hoped to see them again someday.
“Huuuuuuu babbeh su wonewy. Babbeh su huwties. Nu wan. Nu wan…” His huus echoed throughout his tiny hellhole of a room. Upstairs his family sat, he assumed. He hadn’t seen them in days, but he hoped they were doing well. Hoped they’d fared better than him.
Most days he almost believed it was possible.