Okay, so you decided to click on this? Good for you!

This is a one-shot story based on the missing moments, the things that weren't explained, and the things you've ALWAYS wondered about Victorious.

I have a couple of ideas, but if you have something you've always wanted an incredibly, imaginably person (such as myself) to bring to life (with words, people, don't get too excited: P) just tell me in your encouraging reviews!

{Just to let you know some parts will be a bit dark with minimal swearing}

The First couple chapters are going to be about:

OoO DRUM ROLE!OoO

How the Victorious cast came to be the way they are today

(If anyone gets bored of this just tell me…)

Smile,

Hanni {98}

Quote{s} of the Chapter:

The only reason people get lost in thought is because it's unfamiliar territory

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."

Chapter One- Perfectly Me

Cat Valentine

Often people ask me if I'm okay, they treat me as if I'm a mentally sick, insane, crazy little girl.

I'm not.

They think just because my brother has been arrested seven times, always on some sort of pills, and doing the weirdest things that I'm like that too.

I'm not.

They think because I seen my innocent mother murdered in front of me by my drunken father that I'm messed up.

It's not like that, but I suppose it is.

Sure, I have red velvet coloured hair, and stand out enough that it doctors think it earns a place in the hospital. That's the problem: nobody ever thinks; they just think they know.

The words that echo in my mind every day, every moment always make me want to be different, to stand out, and in this life and dream I have; the dream of wanting to be a famous singer, it's the most important part of the package that will make you noticeable; the quality to stand out.

"Normal's boring"

And that's what gets me through the monthly hair dye appointments to keep my hair so red.

It's not like I'm acting because I am like this. I am childish and lovable, but nobody actually looks deep enough to figure out why.

They just think they know everything: nobody ever thinks.

I used to have brown hair. I also used to have two loving parent, a caring brother, and a little baby brother.

I used to have a perfect life, a perfect family, I was perfectly happy, but three years ago my world was too easily flipped upside down.

My father used to be a sophisticated man until my mother gave birth to a son. He said that the little bastard wasn't his, that she had him with another man. Three years ago, when I was ten going on eleven my father started drinking. It used to be a pack of bear on the weekend, but now it turned into dead drunk by 10:30 on a school night.

During the horrifying period between after supper and 10:30 was the time when my father walked unsteadily around the house threatening his family. He beat my poor mother; you could hear her excruciating screams from the hall closet where my brother and I hid. My father called us names, gave us bruises and cuts and threatened to kill us in the worst ways.

I never understood why my mother didn't leave him. I knew she hated him, but I suppose hate and love are too strong of feelings and she got blindly mixed up in them somewhere along the way. She stuck y him, letting him treat her like the worst kind of garbage, letting her three children watch from the side lines, getting taught how to act, how to be, and most of all how to forget.

He didn't teach us well enough because I can still remember that frigid January night.

The night he crossed the line:

"Dammit, Mary!" Gregory Valentine hissed from his bed of empty beer cans that where laying on the sofa, "Get that fucked up bastard out of my sight. I can smell the devil on him! Get me another beer!"

Sofia Holt-Valentine looked up from the spot on the rocking chair with her 19 months old son. She was covered in black, purple, and yellow bruises, she had cuts up and down her arms and legs, and her eyes looked like life ran over and over her and wouldn't let her call 'mercy'.

"Yes, Gregory." She said in a paper thin voice, cuddling her baby boy to her chest. She put the baby down in the cradle by the front door to get up and get the poison that wrecked this family.

She wondered where her older children where located. She didn't know that they could see everything that happened. She wondered every night where they were, but never wanted to draw more attention to them in case her husband would think she was trying to take them away. She wondered why her children came back with wet eyes, bruised and cuts when they spent quality time with their father, but most of all she wondered why the hell she was still here.

The obvious answer would be to protect her children and herself from the horrific promises her husband had made if she decided get up and leave, but still she had hope the Gregory Valentine would become the man he used to be, the loving father, the romantic and caring husband.

It hasn't happened yet.

Both parents where oblivious to the two children that sat by and watched their constant battles through open eyes that where hidden by the tall safe door of the hall closet with the two little holes that looked like they were carved with a butter knife.

As she reached to open the fridge a petrified wailing noise came from the living room, her hands froze thinking that her husband was watching a noisy television program, so she took the beer out of the fridge, her hands shaking, afraid of what she would find in the living room.

As she slowly opened the kitchen doors, the words cold respectable words 'Here is your drink' never quite made it off her tongue.

Sitting on the now blood soaked coach was her husband bent over a little bleeding baby with beautiful blue eyes that where looking around in horror, trying to make sense of feelings he was getting. His father bent over him holding a blood soaked knife.

"You little bastard!" his father screamed, holding the knife above his head, "This'll teach your mother not to hop into bed so readily!"

The baby started screaming, a sound that drove the mind of a boy in the closet crazy. His little sister on top of him, trying to hold him down, so he wouldn't go out of there safe place and try to stand up to their father. Catherina Valentine was sobbing quietly, laying on top of her struggling brother, listening to the sounds of glass breaking, the screams of her mother, the cries of her little brother that just last night she held close to her chest singing him a lullaby.

The cries stopped, screaming and swearing started. The little girl and the little boy in the closet crawled into a little ball beside each other; scared of what they'll find when they opened the doors.

The screaming started again except this time it replayed over and over again in their own heads, the screams of their baby brother and their mother that just stopped after one last cry and then a bang; then silence.

Horrible, horrible silence that meant their father had committed another murder tonight, and that tomorrow he'd be in the back yard digging two graves.

A mother and baby boy would join his collection of mistakes under the unforgiving Earth to rot away without anyone knowing or caring except the children in the closet.

Okay, so what do you think?

If you guys review I'll go on and do Jade or Robbie.

The next chapter will be up in a couple days.

read the two quotes at the top and then read it again…it'll make sense!

Remember to REVIEW!

H98