Literature
Prompt: Never Alone
Another loud crash downstairs makes me shove my hooves in my ears. Everything is muffled, all the cursing, all the yelling, but I somehow still manage to make out my mother spit my name, "Scootaloo!" like it's poison in her mouth. I know it's not me they're fighting about anymore but it is me that started it. I always start it whether I mean to or not. They never tell me as much but I'm smart enough to figure it out for myself. When two ponies always fight and your name is always mixed in there, it's gotta be your fault.
My stomach rumbles and I long for the sandwich I'd been making when the argument began. It's downstairs on the counter, ha