A/N: Okay, so yeah. I'm new to the Victorious section and I'm sure this story pretty much sucks and is pointless. But I adore the show and I adore Cat so I just had to write something even though it probably makes no sense whatsoever. :) So, leave me a review. Good review-bad review, I don't care...I just love reviews. I also love constructive criticism. Also, title of this story is a lyric from Maroon 5 "She Will Be Loved".
P.S. I don't know if y'all know about what has been happening in the state of Alabama right now with all the Royal Wedding news going on, but please pray for all the families in Alabama who lost loved ones and their homes from the tornados on Wednesday night. It was a huge tornado that struck. The worst one in a long time. Yes, I live in Alabama and my family and I were lucky enough to not be struck. No one in my family was hurt, thank God. But anyways, please pray for all the families here...
Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or any of the characters.
Summary: I don't mind spending everyday out on your corner in the pouring rain/look for the girl with the broken smile...
Her laughter, her smiles, her jokes, her weird stories-it's all fake fake fake.
.
She awakes to the soft pitter patter of teardrops falling on the roof of her house and lies awake because she's too awake now to fall back asleep.
Look at the clock on the nightstand-2:31 a.m.
Crimson hair spreads out on her prettypink pillow as she lies on her back and counts the glow in the dark stars above her.
One, two, three, four - fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen -
And before she reaches that final number, thunder cracks loudly outside.
.
A creak is heard when her feet hit the hardwood floors as another rumble flows through the night.
She tiptoes to her bedroom window in hopes that her family (or what's left of it) won't hear her as she escapes her room into the thunderstorm.
But before the princess makes her escape from the tower, she lifts her cell phone from it's usual spot (the window sill) and - text sent.
..
On June 26, 1994, it's raining-it's pouring down from the dark summer sky outside of the solitude of the old double wide trailer.
Your body is frozen on the pale, tiled floor. Dark brown hair is soaked with dry sweat/dark brown eyes looking at every single detail in the bathroom-except the bloody detail on the floor in front of you/deep breath/don't look at the small, fragile body in front of you.
But you look anyways because you need to believe that it actually happened when you were alone.
Between your pale, sweat stained legs you see the body. A baby. Your baby that you just birthed on the bathroom floor with no one around to help you.
Your boyfriend left you when he found out you were pregnant at fifteen and your single mother said she'd be back before midnight. You are alone.
You keep calm-you make sure your body is still as you open the cabinet under the sink to find an unused pack of floss. Leaning forward, you touch the baby softly on the head and you barely have time to register that it's a baby girl you just birthed before you break off a long string of the floss and wrap it around the umbilical cord.
Wrap it around the cord, knot it, then tighten it. Tight, tighter, tightest until it snaps in half.
You pick up the baby-your baby-and you cradle her in your arms. But there's something wrong.
Blood. It keeps coming out of you and it won't stop.
You panic, pray nothing is wrong. But then you feel pain. Too much pain, you can't take it.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. You hold on-hold on until black spots cloud your eyes.
Black, blacker, blackest = abyss.
And then you are gonegonegone.
..
It's still raining as she walks along the sidewalk. Her clothes are soaked, her hair is sticking to her neck, and she's exhausted. But the rain makes her feel alive and it makes her feel so good. It could rain everyday for a year and she would probably be the only person in the world who wouldn't complain.
After what seems like hours of walking, she somehow finds herself standing in the middle of the old, abandoned park that she use to visit when she was younger. The metal slide, the jungle gym, the swing set-all rusted and run down.
As the girl sits under the only thing that's not rusted-the only tree in the park-she thinks that this place is perfect.
..
"I'm so sorry Miss Valentine, but we couldn't save your daughter."
1:09 a.m. -That's when the mother's life shattered.
Devastated. Angry. Lost. Confused. Mournful. Why did God take her only daughter?
She did the only thing she could- she sobbed.
..
"But we managed to save your granddaughter. Do you wish to see her?"
The mother of two-now one-fell silent in the waiting room and nodded her head.
Taking her three year old son's hand in hers, they walked.
..
The baby girl was an exact replica as her mother. Brown eyes, brown hair, light skin.
Beautiful.
She lifted her son, Calix, in her arms. "This is your niece, Calix. Say hello to Caterina."
..
Her grandma never lied to her about her birth story, not even when she was little. Cat always knew that her mother was dead and never coming back.
When Cat was growing up, her grandma always said that she was exactly like her mother. Looked exactly the same, liked the same things, acted the same, and even had the same exact name.
Sometimes Cat really wishes that her mother had survived
Because if she did, grandma wouldn't have gone delusional.
It's a sad story really.
Brother/uncle Calix runs away from home when he's fourteen (she's only eleven).
Grandma gets depressed and now she's a mother of one-now zero.
She forgets about Cat.
And then grandma does the same thing Calix did-she runs away and leaves Cat behind.
Cat then gets foster parents who treat her like a baby and will not let her be free.
End of story, right?
Oh so wrong.
.
She tries to forget the past, but it's hard. It's even harder when she remembers that she's exactly like her mom. Even down to the pregnancy.
She lays under the old oak tree and, as she closes her eyes and lays a hand over her stomach, she wishes that the underground roots of the oak would wrap around her and pull her into the ground. Maybe then she wouldn't feel so wrongwrongwrong.
It's like all stories-she didn't mean to get pregnant. It was just one time.
The returning grief of her grandma/brother/mother had hit her hard on that one night and she needed someone to comfort her. And he did comfort her.
But Cat doesn't blame him for getting her pregnant. Besides, she made the first move.
..
"Kiss me."
"What? Um...I mean...
"Please."
"But are...are you sure?"
"Yes. Kiss me now, please."
"...Okay."
..
It was all her fault. Everything was.
Her mom's death-her fault.
Her brother/uncle running away-her fault.
Her grandma leaving-her fault.
Getting pregnant at seventeen-her fault.
She's so stupid, she really is.
.
She's still lying underneath the tree when she opens her eyes and all she can think about was where was he? She had sent a text to him before she left her house, but what if he hadn't received the text? Cat really needed to talk to him about them and tell him about their baby.
Honestly, she didn't know what she was going to tell him.
She kind of-sort of-maybe likes him. It's complicated.
.
It's exactly 3:13 a.m. when she finally sees him walk toward her. She's leaning back on the oak tree while twirling a piece of wet, now maroon hair between her fingers. He spots her and sits on the wet grass beside her.
"Cat...your nose is bleeding."
"Yeah, I know." He tried to wipe away the blood, but she swatted his hand away. "Don't wipe it off!"
"Why?"
"Because blood is beautiful and nosebleeds are just lovely, don't you think?"
"Uh, sure. Are you okay?"
She shakes her head. "No."
"Well what's wrong?" The soaked, red head looked at him completely for the first time that night. His usual curly hair was a bit flattened by the rain, he wasn't holding a puppet, and water kept running over his glasses. "No one gets me or knows me."
"Well I know you, Cat. I'm your friend."
"You know me, but you don't know me..."
He frowned. "Then who are you? I really want to know."
She let out a small whimper as the blood from her nose ran down to her top lip. "I am Caterina Joan Valentine. I am broken and lost and my life is disgusting and I am scared."
That's when she broke down and sobbed for the first time that night. Robbie gathered her in a hug, smoothed her hair back out of her face, and asked, "What are you scared of? Please tell me. I want to help you."
She spoke through her sobs as the blood ran down her chin and down her neck. "I'm scared of life. I'm scared that my family won't come back. I'm scared that I won't be a good mommy."
He stilled-more like froze. His hand had stopped rubbing her back and then he pulled away from her. "A good what?"
She knew he would react like this. "A good mommy. I'm pregnant. I didn't mean for this to happen, Robbie. I'm scared and I don't know what to do!"
He stared at her for a moment-like he didn't know what to do or what to say. He saw the blood still running down her face and he gently wiped some of it off even though she had said not to (he doesn't like blood too much). But he eventually pulled her back to him and he hugged her again. But if possible, it was more tender. "It's okay, Cat. I know you're scared, I'm scared too. We'll get through this together."
And he kissed her. Not on the lips (she had bloody lips right now). An unexpected kiss on the forehead.
"Thanks for not being mad at me, Robbie."
"I could never be mad at you. Especially not when you're carrying my child."
For the first time in awhile, she smiled.
Another A/N: By the way, I like Cabbie. They're just too freakin' cute.