Hey all! Welcome to my first story. Word of warning, this will contain adult themes and language, as well as some violence. Please Please Please stop reading now if you are too young or are wishing to read a happy fluffy story. That said, this first chapter is somewhat of an introduction that will hopefully make you wonder about what has happened leading up to this point. But enough talking from me, enjoy!

~Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious or anything/anyone involved with it. If I did...well...lets just say Miss Grande would be my best friend in the whole wide world!~

The door slammed behind her as she ran into her room. The yelling and shouting continued as she sat down at the foot of her bed, tears streaming down her smooth cheeks. Hair cascading over her face, she felt miserable, and even worse she felt hopeless. It's my fault. She thought. It's always my fault. Maybe I could be a better daughter, one he would be proud of. Then it will all be better, I know it, it has to.

Her mind told her body to stand up, but her body refused to listen. She reluctantly gave into the cries of pain from her body and stayed there, listening as the shouts of the adults began to subside downstairs. The front door slammed shut and a car started up outside in the driveway. She must have finally told him to leave.

She heard her mother shuffle up the stairs and knock slowly on her door.

"Tigger?"

She only uses her nickname for me when I'm upset and she wants to cheer me up, well too bad, I don't want to talk right now.

"Sweetie, please, come out of there. He didn't mean what he said, you know how he gets when you frustrate him."

Fuck you! I wanted to scream at her. You're still defending that pathetic excuse of a human being. You don't get it, I don't want to talk. I want to disappear. I want to be anywhere but here.

She knocked softly on the door twice more before making her way back downstairs. I allowed myself a brief smirk, knowing that my silence drove her crazy. The tears had stopped flowing and my vision was no longer blurred. I brushed my hair to the side and hauled myself up and onto my bed.

"Worthless."

The word echoed inside my head every time the world around me went quiet. It hurt the first couple times that he said it to me, but then I began to believe that he was right. I started to believe what he told me, that it truly is my fault. That it's my fault that I am a "worthless piece of shit".

I fell backward, head hitting the pillow and stared at the ceiling. My hands were on my stomach and I could feel it rise and fall steadily as I breathed in and out.

What's wrong with me?

It was a question I had pondered many times before and hadn't been able to come up with an answer. Then I had it thrown in my face with one simple word. "Worthless"

I am worthless.

I got up and out of my bed, peeled my clothes off to change, but after five minutes of fruitless searching for my pajama bottoms I threw my hands up in resignation. I pulled on my favourite panties and moved towards my bed. It was still early, only about 8:00 P.M. but I was tired and the thought of being awake for any longer for this day filled me with despair. Just as I was about to drop into my bed I stopped dead in my tracks, a feeling a misery welled up inside of me. I had forgotten to take that damn mirror down. I was stuck there, staring straight at a girl who couldn't possibly be me. The girl in the mirror had a large bruise on the side of her face and streaks of blood marking a cut above her eye. Hair disheveled, the girl in the mirror looked like a monster. I realized with a start, that monster was me. He had struck me, not once, but twice. And he had left his mark for all to see. My hand reached up and stroked the bruise that ran down the side of my face. It stung to touch. My eyes started to water again, I couldn't help it. Fresh tears poured down my face. It had all felt unreal until I saw the damage that he had caused my face.

He hit me. He actually hit me.

This was the first time he had actually laid a hand on me and followed through with his threats. I became aware of the painful throbbing that was coming from my forehead. Becoming dizzy, I sat down on my bed and tried to stop the rush of tears. My thoughts went to school tomorrow. What will I tell people? I quickly decided that I would try to hide it the best I could and if anyone asked, I would tell them I fell down the stairs. People already think I'm clumsy, it won't be hard for them to believe my story. Pulling the covers up over me I laid my head on my pillow. The last thing I saw before closing my eyes was a lock of my red hair that had fallen down on my face.

It's hard to sleep at night when the tears don't stop.

End of part 1, hope you enjoyed it and that it intrigued you enough to want more. Who is this guy who is abusing her? Why is all this happening to her and what will she do about it? (I hope you know who she is by now)

Leave me some reviews to let me know what you think, criticism is welcome! hopefully part two will get finished soon.

Stay Lovely My Dears