Sunny Smile Therapy


                                            >Doctor Sunny Smile's looks at her newest patient with barely concealed pity.

                                            >The little filly, found lost and alone, half-starved and delirious would already have made for quite the heart-clenching tale by itself, but add on the fact that over the last month, no progress has been made in finding the filly's home, and it becomes enough to make most ponies shed a tear.

                                            >Just how is it that no pony has yet come forward to claim the filly?

                                            >No parents, or family at all.

                                            >And when asked, all the filly does is shrug and say that there won't be any pony looking for her in all of Equestria.

                                            >She says it like it's fact.

                                            >Like no pony wants her.

                                            >Sunny gives a little shake of her head and clears her throat.

                                            "So, Anon, what would you like to talk about today?"

                                            >The filly, Anon, she claims her strange name to be, shrugs, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling.

                                            >"Nothing really, Doc."

                                            >"What about school? Are you liking Ms. Cheerilee's class?"

                                            >"It's as good as school gets, I guess. At least I already know all the math, and Equestrian history reads like a adderall-fueled fantasy pitch."

                                            >Sunny Smile's is confused, but just nods along.

                                            >"That's good. I'm glad you aren't struggling. Are the other foals nice?"

                                            >Anon rolls her eyes.

                                            >"Of course, they're ponies. It's, like, hard-scripted into their DNA. Seriously, even when one of them tries to be mean, it just takes a hard glare and bop on the nose to shut them down."

                                            >"Now, Anon, you know violence doesn't solve anything."

                                            >"If violence isn't solving all of your problems, you aren't using enough of it."

                                            >It's said with a smirk, but Sunny feels her heart rate spike.

                                            >"What? Who told you that?"

                                            >The smile drops.

                                            >"I was just joking, Doc. Don't worry, I'm not gonna go around and start busting kneecaps whenever something doesn't go my way."

                                            >That's not reassuring at all, and once again Sunny can't help but imagine what sort of home the filly came from to talk about bodily harm so casually.


                                            >"Right... How about we talk about something different. Would you like to try speaking about your home life again? I know it might be hard, but..."

                                            >The filly sighs.

                                            >"I already said you'd only be confused, and besides, it doesn't matter."

                                            >"Of course it, matters, Anon. You matter."

                                            >There's another sigh before she starts speaking again, voice taking on a strange cadence.

                                            >"The details of my life are quite inconsequential. But if you insist... My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old Prench prostitute named Chloe with cloven hooves. My father would mareanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My foalhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make oat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of eight I received my first scribe. At the age of ten, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my privates. There really is nothing like freshly shorn vulva, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it..."

                                            >There's a clatter of Sunny's clipboard hitting the floor as she stares, mouth agape and face pale.

                                            >Anon looks at her, expression blank before there's a snort, then a giggle.

                                            >Her lips quiver as she suppresses laughter.

                                            >"Hey, before you toss me into the loony bin, I want you to know that's all bullshit. I'm just messing with you."

                                            >"You... were making that up?"

                                            >Yep. Well, not entirely. I only technically made up the cloven hooves thing, the oat helmet, ages, and what was shaved."

                                            >"What?!"

                                            >"Adaption for an Equestrian audience or it wouldn't have made sense."


                                            >Sunny Smile is frozen in indecision.

                                            >Does she rush to hold the filly, or search out the nearest authority and report the dangerous foal abusers still on the loose?

                                            >"Yeah," Anon continues. "Most of that stuff I didn't make up, because someone else made it up, and I was just quoting them. My, 'foalhood' was way more boring."

                                            >Sunny Smile blinks, processing her words.

                                            >"None... none of that was true?"

                                            >"Mhmm... well, I actually never knew my dad, so he might have been boulangerie owner from Belgium, but Mom didn't like talking about him."

                                            >Despite still being off-kilter from the previous insanity that had come from the filly's mouth mere moments ago, Sunny Smile's mind latches onto the first bit of real information she has gotten of Anon's past.

                                            >"You were raised by your mother alone?"

                                            >"If you could call it that," Anon says, staring back up at the ceiling. "I mean, I get it, we needed money, and it was up to her to make it for the both of us, but that meant she spent most of her time working. Pretty much if I wasn't at school, I was home alone, with only the elderly neighbor checking in on me every couple hours."

                                            >"That must have been lonely for you."

                                            >Another shrug.

                                            >"I found ways to occupy my time. Books and stuff. Maybe I got lonely sometimes, but it's as much my fault as anyone else's, thinking back. I wasn't exactly sociable."

                                            >Sunny Smile blinks at this.

                                            >Looking at the filly now, she didn't seem particularly shy.

                                            >At least she hadn't seen any signs of social anxiety, and though she heard from Cheerilee that she didn't go out of her way to interact with her classmates, Anon still did so plenty of times with if they approached her first.

                                            >"You didn't have many friends back home?"

                                            >"I had school friends. You know, we ate lunch together, joked between classes or when the teachers weren't watching, but no one I would ever meet outside of school. I just didn't feel like going through the hassle."


                                            >Sunny Smile purses her lips, thinking this might be something to bring up with Princess Twilight as a matter to be addressed as a friendship problem, but puts the thought aside for a moment as she notices something else.

                                            >"I can't help but notice you talk in the past tense, almost as if this is from long ago... Anon, before Cheerilee's class, when was the last time you attended school?"

                                            >"Pfff, like, four years, maybe? It's been a while."

                                            >While Sunny Smile is hoping for the filly to once again admit she's joking, it never comes, and she feels subtle anger rising in her chest.

                                            >Anon couldn't be more than twelve years old, and the last four of them...

                                            >"Why wouldn't you have been in school for four years?"

                                            >"Because I needed to get a job," is the glib reply.

                                            >Finally, Anon turns her head towards the foal psychiatrist with casual gaze, sees the look of shock on her face, and widens her own eyes.

                                            >"Crap... Hey, listen, that was just another joke. I've been going to school and all that until just recently. No child labor laws have been broken or anything, so just forget it."

                                            >Unlike last time, there's no amusement in the filly's voice, and Sunny Smile knows this is the lie.

                                            >"Anon..." she begins, but stops herself with a sigh.

                                            >Her patient is fidgeting uncomfortable, clearly upset that she had revealed so much, and Sunny fears she'll close herself off completetly if she pushes any further during this session.

                                            >"I see," she decides on, pasting on a smile. "I'm glad to hear that, though we really need to work on your sense of humor, young mare. You're far too young for it to be so dark."

                                            >Heh, yeah, I guess..." Anon replies, flopping back.


                                            >"... So, how has staying with... Trixie, been? It's not too cramped, is it?"

                                            >Sunny Smile still wasn't confident with the decision to let the showmare take care of such a delicate filly, but that's just how things played out.

                                            >It had been Trixie who had found the filly on the side of the road while traveling for her magic show, miles from civilization as she made her way back to Ponyville.

                                            >While Trixie had been several days away from arriving at her normal pace, she shaved half of that off as she rushed to get the dehydrated and half-starved filly to a doctor.

                                            >Anon had been delirious when first found, and whenever Trixie wasn't pulling her wagon at full speed, she was resting curled around the green foal.

                                            >By the time they had arrived, Trixie had gotten enough fluids and food from her meager supplies into Anon's system as to get her out of the red and speaking coherently.

                                            >Job well done, Trixie could have have left with a clean conscious as medical professionals took over.

                                            >Instead, she spent every visiting hour possible in the filly's room, and in return, Anon was the most open with her.

                                            >When it was time for her to be discharged, the decision was made to put her in the magician's care, albeit with the stipulations of frequent check-ins to make sure Anon was safe.

                                            >Still, Anon had seemed to like the idea, and nothing bad happened yet, so things continued.

                                            >A smile tugs at Anon's lips.

                                            >"Pretty good, though it's a bit frustrating at times."

                                            >"Oh? Are you two not getting along?"

                                            >"Nah, she's cool, but she's giving me a real appreciation for parents everywhere who have to deal with teenagers."

                                            >Sunny blinks owlishly.

                                            >"Excuse me?"

                                            >"Well, for one, if she had her way, she'd be going to bed at 3AM and sleeping ten hours straight. A proper sleep schedule is important, you know? And she'd eat sugary cereal for two out of every three meals, and instant ramen for the other. If I don't handle the cooking and make sure to stay on her about buying proper groceries, that's all we'd eat."


                                            >There's a frown on Sunny's face as she says, "You shouldn't have to be doing any of that. Trixie is supposed to be your guardian, not your ward."

                                            >"It's fine, really," Anon assures with a soft smile. "If anything, it feels kind of nice helping her. Guess it's true what they say, it's nice to feel needed."

                                            >"She should still be the responsible one," Sunny tries, but Anon shakes her head.

                                            >"Like I said, it's fine, and it's not like she's making me earn bits for the both of us or clean up after her."

                                            >While she'd like to argue more, a glance at the clock reveals that the day's session was coming to a close, So Sunny Smile says, "We'll have to continue this discussion next week. Still, when Trixie arrives to pick you up, I'd like to have a word with her."

                                            >"Ah, come on, Doc. Go easy on her. She's new to this whole guardian thing," Anon defends. "She's still used to living the bachelorette life, so you can't expect her to start acting like a mom in only a week. We're both still learning."

                                            >Once again, Sunny Smile is taken aback by just how mature the filly before her could be.

                                            >It was both impressive, and saddening that she's so grownup when she should be a carefree foal enjoying her youth.

                                            >Suppressing a sigh, Sunny gives a soft smile.

                                            >"Fine. Still, if you insist on taking care of the mare, perhaps you should work on making her more self-sufficient so that you can focus on more appropriate things, like making friends and having fun."

                                            >"I'm not a miracle worker, Doc," Anon says jokingly. "But yeah, she is actually getting better. I didn't even need to make her a grocery list yesterday for her to get healthy stuff. She even bought me bananas because she knows they're my favorite."

                                            >That at least relieves Sunny some as she nods.

                                            >"I'm glad. Now come on, I'm sure Trixie will be waiting for us out front soon enough."

                                            >And with that, their session ends, leaving plenty for Sunny to think about and investigate until their next session.


                                            >Cheerilee is going over her newest student's Elementary Exit Exam in wonder.

                                            >She passed.

                                            >It was close due to history and her near illegible penmanship, with the history section having just enough right to count, but still, she passed.

                                            >A whole year ahead of the other foals.

                                            >The teacher can hardly believe it, especially if what Sunny Smile talked to her about was to be believed.

                                            >Anon, having missed four years of school, tested out of her class and onto the middle school curriculum.

                                            >She looks up from the paper to the filly waiting for her to finish her grading.

                                            >She's leaning back, one hind hoof pushing on the desk, balancing her chair on two legs as she has a look on concentration on her face.

                                            >"Congratulation, Anon, it looks like you're moving up a year, if that's really what you want."

                                            >"Huh? Ah!"

                                            >The chair slams forward onto all four legs, and Anon is flung forward onto the floor with a thud.

                                            >"Anon!" Cheerilee yelps, climbing from her seat.

                                            >Before she can come around the desk, Anon shouts, "I'm okay!"

                                            >Cheerilee hesitates, then watches as Anon clumsily works her way to her hooves.

                                            >One of the many odd quirks of the filly; her lack of coordination.

                                            >Sometimes Cheerilee suspects the real reason Anon prefers to sit and watch the other foals play from the shade of a tree was that she didn't want to risk tripping over her own hooves, which sometimes happens even when she's trotting in a straight line.

                                            >Pulling herself back into her chair, Anon rubs at her sore chin.

                                            >"Are you sure you're alright?"Cheerilee asks, getting a nod.

                                            >"I'm good... So, I passed?"

                                            >"Yes," she responds passing over the test papers. "You did very well, though I did notice you're still lagging behind in history compared to your other subjects."

                                            >"But I stilled passed," Anon points out, a smile pulling at her lips. "So does that mean I can move up a grade?"

                                            >Cheerilee bites her lip, reflecting on what she knows of the filly, and what Sunny has mentioned.