Disclaimer: Victorious belongs to Dan Schneider and Nickelodeon. Loosely inspired by Beautiful Mess by Miranda Cosgrove, the epi Who Did It To Trina?, and a girl I know... Well, kind of.
Beautiful Mess
A Victorious Oneshot
The sound of a loud crack awakens you from your p r e t t y daydreams.
With your heart beating faster, you wring the last drops of water from your hair and cautiously turn off your shower. He's screaming louder now; profanities that make you wince, at loud volumes that hurt your eardrums. And it's just the beginning.
The salty tears rolling down your face begin to mix with the water droplets from your showerhead until you can't tell which is which. The door is locked. He can't reach you in here. But you only relax slightly at that fact.
"La la la la..." The p r e t t y music calms you. But only a little bit.
You run over to the corner between the shower stall and the sink, and curl up. This has always been your safe place, when mommy's boyfriend came home drunk and angry. You keep whispering to yourself that though this isn't the first time, it could a l w a y s be the last.
Wishful thinking, of course.
Micah kicks the door once more (and you don't even stop to giggle at the rhyme, because this time, he breaks t h r o u g h). Whether it's just the door, or it's your entire being, you're not quite sure. All you know is that it hurts. It hurts and you don't know how to stop it.
The side of the door with the lock stays firmly in place, while the side with the hinges swings wide open. You don't even have time to worry that you're not wearing clothes - only a p r e t t y . p i n k towel - your only concern is that the only thing that protected you from that m o n s t e r is broken. And the hole it leaves is wide enough for him to walk through.
"Lalalalal-"
He grabs your hair, your p r e t t y . r e d hair and pulls it closer to him. He's angry, really angry.
But you don't know what you did.
So he's going to tell you. He drags you through the half-open door (which gave you a splinter, owwie) and throws you out into the grass outside your mommy's p r e t t y . y e l l o w house. You're clutching on for dear life to that towel with your left hand, trying to defend yourself from Micah with your right; and there are neighbors outside but they see right through you.
They couldn't care less if he killed you right in front of them. Briefly, you think you wouldn't either.
That thought is cut off when his blade enters your arm - your only remaining defense. It stings - that blade, and you can feel its coolness against your insides, the warm blood bubbling up against it.
"La la la la la..."
And then its gone.
He screams your name - once something so p r e t t y - and turns it into the worst possible thing you can imagine. He tells you about how u g l y you are, how s t u p i d you are, that you were a m i s t a k e and that he can't wait to get rid of you and your brother, so that it will only be him+Layla, Layla+him.
The knife then inches closer to your heart - your l i f e l i n e.
And suddenly, everything isn't so p r e t t y anymore.
"La la la..."
It's a beautiful mess.
"La... La..."
Ellie.