Let Her Sleep

If someone was to really step back and look at you, they would suppose you acted the way you had because you learned from the very best. Your family. After all, like mother like daughter and all those clever phrases.

It had all started out as a plot to gain status. To achieve fame and fortune like all girls dream about. There was nothing wrong with it and you certainly didn't intend to hurt anyone, so it was a shame that you ended up hurting many people anyway. It was weird to you; to think that you, out of everyone, would hurt someone. You were so flowery, so pretty, so becoming. At least, in the beginning you were.

But as you watched others around you getting chances and glimpses of fame, you began to want the same for yourself. Andre would get music gigs and once in a while a professional record label would watch him. Tori would be picked up by producers and singing labels. Beck would get acting jobs in movies and the opportunity to meet very influential people. Jade almost sang in front of millions of people and was constantly praised for her amazing playwriting skills. Even Robbie gained the occasional recognition for his top tier grades and got a few leads in plays. But you...you never got anything, did you?

So maybe you were a bit envious of them, but mostly, it just spurred you to work harder. So you did. You sang more frequently and you tried answering more questions in class. You worked on your acting skills till you could cry big alligator tears without hesitation. You put yourself out there and tried to meet as many people as you could. And you were starting to become happy with yourself, pleased with all the progress you were making. You were sure someone was going to notice you were working your butt off and that you had talent.

But, no one did. And how fitting, because no one ever noticed your parents either. Perhaps that's why they forced you into acting, singing, and play as well as song writing. Because they had strived to be celebrities for all their lives, but ended up with nothing. Nothing except you and your brother. But, maybe those are just far fetched musings.

Still, your family made you work hard. They pushed you more than you would have ever pushed yourself. More than even Tori pushed herself. They demanded that you studied. They demanded that you had a social life. They demanded that you perfected the arts. They made you draw, they made you write, they made you force passion. But really, passion could never be forced. So they grew angry with you as all your life you never really had the same fiery amount of passion your parents had.

So they threatened to send you off to military school. They threatened to give you so many chores you would no longer have time to do what you wanted. They even threatened to hit you once. And while you would beg and plead and grovel at their feet for forgiveness that you could never be what they wanted, they ignored you and compared you to your friends. "Oh, that Jade girl seems so deep and dedicated," and, "Have you seen the Oliver boy? So handsome and such an accomplished actor," and you couldn't forget the ever pressing, "Why are your friends getting attention while you aren't? You're not trying hard enough."

So you would stay after school and ask for help. Perfecting consumed your life. It became you. And when you became to involved in working, your parents would drag you out and berate you that you were ignoring your friends and you had to have a social life. People had to like you. But then once you went out to a social gathering, they would purse their lips and tell you that you were neglecting your studies.

Eventually the stress of being perfect racked up, and you would stay up late at night, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and wake up early in the morning for school. You had bags under your eyes and every step you took felt like you were trying to hold the whole world up on your shoulders. But, no. You had to do this; you had to do that. And don't forget whatever they told you to do. You couldn't be tired. You didn't have time to be tired.

So perhaps that's why you fell into the world of caffeinated drinks. That way you were bubbly enough for all your friends to continue liking you and so that you could continue your studies even if you felt all jittery and unnatural.

Still, your parents were never happy. Never content. Try harder, they ordered. Stop slacking, they would demand. And then they began to tell you stories. Stories of what they did when they were younger. How hard they worked and what they achieved. You wanted to point out that they ended up amounting to the dirt people walked on, but you held your tongue because you were scared to be disciplined. Maybe they didn't abuse you physically, but they did emotionally and you began to feel so broken.

When you told them that you were beginning to feel sad, they gave you an energy drink and told you that the only way you would be happy was if you did something with your life. You wanted to burst out hollering that you were spending endless hours after school in the black box, rehearsing, and sitting for countless days to hone your writing skills, but once again, you did nothing of the sort. After all, you were raised better than that. You were raised to be perfect. You had no time to argue and point out silly things that were completely evident. You needed to practice.

So you did, but you became more and more sad. Tired. Exhausted.

Soon there came a time when you didn't eat right. You had no time for such trivial things. One meal a day, you would allow yourself. Besides, your family wanted you to have a good figure so cutting down the meals would mean less calories which meant you wouldn't gain weight, or so you told yourself. So you justified it. Then sleep came less and less often, and more energy drinks would come into play, even though you hated how they tasted and the fact that they left you high and dry when they wore out.

You were just setting yourself up for a bad fall.

Finally, there came a breaking point where you collapsed in class. Fainted. And you were brought to the nurse who quickly splashed some water on your face. You didn't wake up, so Jade, mean and cruel, yet secretly worried about you, filled up a bucket of water and dumped it on your face. You immediately woke up to shocked faces.

Later you found that your friends were shocked to see how tired you looked when all your cover up washed off.

So the nurse called your parents and they came to pick you up. They didn't say anything, except that you were wasting time that you could be perfecting yourself and that what you did was juvenile and not funny. You begged them to understand that you had been mentally and physically exhausted and that the energy drinks were beginning to wear on you. They didn't listen, or so it seemed, but a few days afterwards, they approached you with something.

Drugs.

They informed you that if you were feeling as unhappy as you said you were, that these drugs would make you feel better and let you continue your work. They didn't say it would affect first your performance, and then your mind. They didn't warn you of all the side effects or hazards. They just handed the bag to you, saying that they used to do these as well. Since you trusted your parents, you took them gratefully and used them.

Eventually, your parents sat you down again and they began to tell you stories that you wished you had never known. They told you of how they tried to reach power and fame. They told you of what illegal things they committed and that if you wanted to be at the top, you had to do the same. They said that one time they even gave themselves up. Gave themselves sexually to get what they wanted. When they saw the look of horror that spread across your face, they reprimanded you and told you that if the occasion were ever to rise, you would have to do the same.

But that wasn't the scariest thing they told you. The scariest of what they told you was that they had killed someone that was rivaling them. They collaborated and murdered him, and no one ever found out. They told you not to tell anyone, or they would punish you. Plus, they said that if you really loved them, you wouldn't betray them.

"And, also Cat, if the situation ever arises, you have to do the same. After all, our whole family has. Even your brother."

So you didn't speak a word to anyone at all. In fact, you just stopped speaking to everyone except your family and your teachers. Conversation was a waste of time, so you excused it. And maybe, also, perhaps you didn't talk because you couldn't talk right and your mind was a bit fuzzy.

Eventually you started to depend on your drugs to stay awake, to stay happy, and to keep working. At least you tried to work, but sometimes your mind wouldn't cooperate. It would drift off and ideas that you thought had been so brilliant in the first place you began to notice weren't really all that great...And when you sang you began to become conscious of the fact that you were singing funny. But, oh well. It hardly fazed you. You needed to keep going.

So, in a month or two, you approached your parents asking for something stronger and that the old drugs started to become dull. They gladly complied and supplied you with better, stronger stuff. They also asked if you had gotten recognized yet. When you responded that, no, you hadn't, your dad huffed angrily, your mom sighed, and they stormed off to their room. When you followed them and pressed your ear to the door, you could hear them yelling. Screaming. Fighting.

"She's not working hard enough!" your dad claimed.

"She's only a child!" your mother replied.

"A child that sits on her butt all day! She needs to do better!"

"Can't you see that she's working harder than we ever had?" Your mother's voice dropped to a whisper so that you could hardly make out the words she was saying.

"I'll see it when I see results!" Your dad's voice rose in power and volume. Such a contrast to your mother, who was showing a side of her you never saw before. Gone was the pushing, almost insensitive woman, and replacing her was someone actually caring.

"Why don't you see that all she ever does is try? And now you convinced me to put her on drugs. Drugs. Have you gone insane? That ruined your life! I can't believe I haven't noticed it by now. Those drugs will be the end of her as well as the false stories you implanted in her head! She believes we've actually done those things!" your mother defended you.

"Well that's exactly what we want her to do! What she should do. What she needs to do. Don't you want this at all?"

"No. No I-" Your mother's voice cut off and a loud slap was heard. It made you tremble in fear and shake. What...What was your father doing?

"I asked you if you wanted this!" your father screamed again.

"Y-Yes I do."

"That's better," your father nodded and when you heard footsteps coming towards the door you scurried away. You jumped on the couch and pretended like you were doing your homework, but if anyone looked at your hand, they'd see that you were really, actually, incapable of doing work because your hand was trembling.

Your father walked by you and nodded, then opened the door and shuffled out, your mother not far behind.

"We're going to work. The cameras are set up so don't think about not doing what your supposed to," your mother remarked, melancholy and without emotion. Her eyes were dead as she shut the door behind her. Fumbling, when they left, you did the drugs they gave you. Your only escape.

But in a matter of days, your only escape became your overwhelming addiction. Before the urge to do them had been powerful, but never like this. You felt like you needed them to survive, even though once they had died down they left your skin tingling like bugs were crawling on them and you couldn't focus on anything. You didn't go to school anymore, and your parents agreed to let you take courses from home. They also said that, if only for a few months, they didn't want you hanging out with others. They wanted you home, working.

Pretty quickly, you lost a lot of weight and you lost the will to clean yourself. You became dirty and greasy, not bothering to jump in the shower or to brush your hair. That is, until your parents came back, once again telling you to work harder and that they would no longer give you the very stuff you needed to exist because money was scarce. You questioned them if you could get a job, and they gave each other a look and said that there was a way to make easy money.

Prostitution.

That was the way you lost your virginity. Messily, sloppily, and painfully. It gave you scars you would never truly recover from. You sold your body for money to everyone. Teenagers, creepy men, older men, even some women. Everyone seemed to want you because you looked so innocent. So beautiful in the picture you would show everyone. In reality, even if your mother did put makeup on you (since you were to high to do it yourself most of the time), you were soiled. To skinny and you looked older than you really were.

But who gave a damn. As long as you gave them what they wanted, they didn't care. In fact, most of them were to drunk to really take in what you looked like in real life and not just pictures.

Soon you were making some money. It was barely enough for what you wanted and if you kept wanting drugs, then you would have to keep sleeping with people.

Then there came a time when your parents came in contact with a record producer. They invited him over and you played recordings of your voice and then gave a demonstration. When he gave you an odd look, your parents quickly brought out some beer and told him that he was a busy man and he should relax and stay for a bit.

So he did.

And he got drunk.

And he slept with you, promising that he would give you a label.

He didn't, though, because after all was done and complete, he got up and left. Your parents were fuming, saying that you didn't try hard enough. So they punished you the only way they could think of. They took your precious drugs.

Withdrawal.

You went into withdrawal. Headaches, vomiting, pain. You tried to go behind your parents' back and buy what you needed, but it never worked. You couldn't focus on any of your work now, and seeing that you needed help, your parents made the decision to send you back to your school. Back to your friends that had texted and called you numerous times and even tried to stop by, but you cut off connections with them.

They sent you to school with a camera implanted cleverly on your backpack. They instructed you that you had to bring your backpack to every class and keep the camera on you and if they saw that you weren't in school, they would find you and drag you back home.

And so you made your return back to school, but you still decided to completely ignore your friends. Except, on the off chance that you could think clearly, you would watch them. You would watch as they got everything they wanted. Achieved the world. And that angered you. It angered you so much. You realized, with a jolt, that if you were to ever get anywhere in life, they needed to go.

And go, they did. Oh, did they go.

Crazy, driven insane from your addictions, your stress, and your constantly changing emotions, you jumped Tori in a dark alleyway and shot the gun you took from your parents safe into her heart. She didn't see it coming and you were almost positive she didn't even feel it before she fell to her death. You ran away quickly, your heart hammering in your chest, exhilarated. You had just done the unspeakable. One of the worst crimes.

You committed murder.

So was it sad to say that you loved it? Loved the rush it gave you and the adrenaline pumping through your veins when you shot her? To bad you were almost caught. You had to be more careful next time, your parents warned you, or the police might catch you. They might find you and would claim you guilty when all you were trying to do was eliminate the competition which everyone, somewhere in the back of their heads, wanted to do?

The next killing you planned more carefully. At least you hoped you did, the effects from your withdrawal nearly sending you into a state of shock where you couldn't think right. You could only hope that you had thought everything through.

Next to go was Beck. Beck was always a nice boy, but he was the number two threat. By killing him, you hoped your parents would finally be happy, because really, you didn't want to shoot any of your ex-friends and hoped you wouldn't have to, even if it gave you a thrill.

You made it seem like an accident. Like some kid had thrown a baseball through Beck's window and the glass shattered, going everywhere. It was to bad that Beck was standing near the exact window that broke. The shards of glass went into his brain and his heart, and try as they might, the doctors were never able to save him.

For a few minutes, you were sad that Beck was truly gone, but it had to happen. He had to go if you were ever to get recognized.

When you went home that night, you told your parents what you had done and you swear you saw a flash of anguish run through your mother's eyes, but it was gone in a second as your father's hand clenched. He congratulated you, but then told you to work on your new song. Your family acted like what you had done was nothing, and they accepted it without any reaction. If you were in the right mind, you'd realize your whole family was psycho and maybe your brother's crazy was inherited.

But you weren't in the right mind and perhaps the effects of the drugs were permanent, because even though you were taking a few months to plan Andre's death, you never came off the insane train even though your withdrawal symptoms eventually went away.

Anyway, time passed quickly and you were soon able to dispose of Andre. Every other night you realized he went to a local bar, not to drink, but to play his guitar or piano and sing. Something of a job you supposed. But whatever, it didn't matter. So one night as Andre was playing, most tragically some drunken man grabbed something heavy and bashed Andre's skull in because you had maybe convinced him that Andre was "sleeping with his girlfriend." You considered yourself lucky because if that hadn't worked, you would have had to initiate Plan B which was much more risky.

You went home and no one suspected a thing, the drunken guy unable to recall anything about your tall tale.

You went to school like normal the next day, except instead of taking notes on the class subject like you should have been, you were taking notes on Jade. Oh beautiful, powerful, young Jade. She had been your best friend and it was sad that her time had come. She had worked so hard to get to the place she was standing in today. But not as hard as you. No, no one worked as hard as you. So she needed to go, especially since she was a very real threat.

You didn't take long to devise a plan. Jade was simple really. Her fascination with scissors made it easy to pretend like she had accidentally stabbed herself in the wrong artery. So you were ready in a couple of weeks. Then you went to her house, thankful that she only lived with her mother who was gone for most of the day because she was the only one making money to live.

You went up the stairs, her house's layout forever etched in your brain, and went into her room. Sure enough, she had a pair of scissors in her hand.

"Hey Jade," you smirked evilly. She stood up, still clutching the scissors at her side, unknowing what you were about to do. "I've missed you!" you cooed, brown eyes glowing. She didn't say anything, just stood there. Perfect for your plan. "I've missed you so, so much!" you said and then went in to hug her. You pulled her tightly to you and were about to grab her hand to make her stab herself, when she retched her hand away from you and did the exact same thing you were going to do to her.

She stabbed you.

You fell to the ground, gasping for breath when she yanked the scissors out of your side.

"Hey Cat. I knew you were going to come. I knew it was you," she said, oddly calm. Oddly collected. And of course, because why not? You had underestimated her. You had forgot that she was smart. Much smarter than anyone ever gave her credit for. She knew what she was doing.

Jade quickly whipped out her phone and dialed 911. Or, at least you assumed from the way she talked.

Once she hung up, she slowly bent down and grabbed your face. She lifted it so that you were looking into her eyes. There were tears in them. Tears in the hardened, gothic girl's eyes. It was unheard of. Were you the one who had done this to her?

"They should have called you Crazy Cat, you know..." she trailed off, and all you could do was look into her eyes with your own set of conflicted ones.

"I hope you realize I knew it was you all along...And now justice is going to be served. You killed Tori and Andre and...and Beck. And then you went after me. What went wrong? What happened to you?" Jade's eyes were brimmed with sorrow. If she was searching for an answer, then she didn't get it, because you said nothing. You just sat there, a horrible throbbing pain in your side as your vision started to darken.

"I hope you rot in jail."

That was the last thing you heard before you blacked out. It appeared as though she knew what was happening all along.

When you woke up you were in an awful, uncomfortable jail cell with a straight jacket on. You couldn't move even though you tried. Tried hard.

"It's no use," a voice came and you glanced up, only to see your parents. When had they come? "You're not going to get out of that thing." You didn't say anything, silenced with surprise. You just watched them. Observed them. Unmoving, unfeeling, unsure.

"How could you do something like this?" your father's hypocritical voice rang out and you wanted to shrink back from the sharpness of it. "And you don't even say anything? Do anything?...Talk Caterina!"

"W-Where am I?" you choked out, even though no tears came. You felt devoid of any emotion. No, all you felt was uncertainty.

"I think you know where you are," your father's deep, booming voice came again.

"W-Why are you h-here?" you stutter, scared. Scared of the unfamiliarity of this place.

"To see you," your mother said, and you swear you could see tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Why else would we be here stupid?" your father barked.

"A-Are you going to get m-me out of here?" you asked. Hoped. Wished. Dreamed.

Your father scoffed and then shuffled his feet. Your mother only looked away. You bit back what you wanted to scream at them. Well were they? They had to. They were your family and you trusted them. You had always trusted them. So they would help you. They had to. They just had to.

"No," your father answered cruelly. "Now get yourself straightened out." The rest of the conversation was almost blur as that one sentence rang through your head. That one, hypocritical sentence that sealed your fate. Your doom.

"You know Caterina...I really thought you could become famous. I really did...But here you are now. You're a disappointment," was the last thing your father said before your parents left.

And so you were condemned to a place where they thought you were crazy. Where they thought you a criminal. Where they thought that at any moment you could snap and hurt someone, even hurt yourself. You spent many nights in that hell hole. To many. Eventually, the straight jacket came off and you gradually you gained more freedoms. You were in there for two years, until one night, you realized you had to get out of here. You had to go get revenge on Jade and start climbing up the ladder of fame again, just like your parents wanted you to.

So you collaborated secretly with some other criminals and after many months, you were finally able to put your plan into action. You broke out of the jail and everything went according to plan...Well, except for the last part. A security guard caught your party of eight and then all hell broke lose. Everyone ran and most got shot. Except for you. You made it out and you kept running hard, knowing they would be right on your tail.

And they were.

They were in their car and they had their gun pointed at you. Then, they pulled a trigger and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. You felt an awful pain in your shoulder. And then you felt one in your back. Then there was a third in your leg and you collapsed. You shouted out. Cried out, begging for someone to help you. Someone to appear out of thin air and save you.

"Mommy! Daddy!" you screamed in a frenzy. In a panic. "Mommy! Daddy!"

And suddenly, all the tears you had held back for so many years...well, they came. And they flooded you and they flooded the ground. And you were thrashing and pounding against the dirt path. "I don't want to go! I don't want to die! Please save me! Mommy, daddy, help me! Please! I'm sorry!" You couldn't breathe as you choked out your words. You couldn't think straight and you couldn't see anything but tears running down your face like a cascading waterfall.

Because, you had finally showed how broken you were inside to the world. You had so many scars. So many bruises and cuts, and now all your makeup was washing away, revealing a little girl, pushed to her limits to achieve what her parents could not. A little girl who never wanted anything in life but to be happy. A little girl who had dreamed big, only to fail in the end.

Everyone could see the brokenness you held inside. Your heart had slowly chipped away until all that was left was just a little piece. A little piece clinging for life. Because drugs had driven you crazy, and selling yourself for money had impaired you in ways you could never imagine. And really, you were just an innocent young girl, looking for a way to live in the hellhole you called a life.

Everyone could hear the painful breaking of that last piece of your heart because really, you hadn't truly wanted to hurt everyone. You just wanted to get to the top. You just wanted to rise in glory. You just wanted to finally have a happy ending like all those princesses you used to read about.

Because maybe it was the drugs that drove you off the deep end, and maybe it was the killing and shooting that scarred you, and perhaps it was the sex that damaged you physically and mentally, but it was your parents that made you crumble.

Because really, all you had wanted was their approval.

You heard the guards jump down from their car and rush over to you. One was on the phone and the other was pressing something against your wounds. Time felt like it was passing by slowly, so it took what seemed like years for the paramedics to come and take you in the back of their ambulance and hook you up to numerous IVs.

You soon blacked out, only to wake up in a heavily guarded area that wasn't a hospital. You felt thirsty, so you attempted to sit up, but pain flashed through your body and you let out a grunt. You looked around and considered calling for help, but a doctor spotted you and quickly rushed down the hall. A few minutes later he reappeared with a girl in tow.

She walked in hesitantly and took a long look at you.

Jade, you realized.

She sat by you in a chair and then silence fell heavily in the room.

"Your parents refused to come," she informed you. "I almost didn't either, but then I realized, you really don't have anyone, do you?" she scoffed and looked at the ground for a moment. "Your brother told me everything when he called me. Not sure why he called me, but he did...You've been through a lot. And even though I hate you, I pity you," Jade stated softly. Gently, like she was talking to herself and you weren't even here. You would like to pretend you saw a hint of a smile when she said that she hated you and that she was kidding, but you were joshing yourself. After all, you destroyed her friends.

"You were lucky to survive the gunshots, or so the doctors say...But something tells me you weren't. You wanted to die, didn't you. You knew that you were never going to please your parents. I mean, it's impossible to escape from that place. You knew that..." Jade trailed off before repeating herself in a whisper, "You wanted to die..."

You couldn't stop the well of tears pooling in your eyes as she spoke.

"After all, what's the point of living? Everyone hates you. They all want you dead because they can't forgive you for what they've done. Maybe you can't even forgive yourself for what you've done...But you know what's funny? I'm not sure why, but I forgive you...Cat...You were never born crazy. No...Your parents shaped you into what you've become. I was wrong to have called you Crazy Cat, I'll admit it...

"I find it fucking weird how I don't actually hate you right now. I hate everyone, but yet you've always eluded my anger. I mean, I should hate you, but I can't. Maybe it's because I don't blame you for finally snapping...I don't know and it doesn't matter anymore...

"You're probably tired right now, so you should go to sleep. I'm going to leave and I'm never coming back. So stop crying and just go back to sleep."

You wipe your eyes and then close them, willing yourself to sleep, praying that you don't have nightmares of what you've done. And eventually, you do drift off, but right before you finally fall asleep for good, you hear Jade say something.

"Just go to sleep and I promise you won't be hurt anymore." Then there' s a click and then the door snaps shut. Then, you hear the monitor flatline and you know what she's done. And for once, you finally feel a true happiness you haven't felt in years as you drift off, never to wake again.

After all this pain, you finally get to sleep. And sleep you do, because you're finally content with who you are and not who your parents wanted you to be.

Because really, you finally realize, you never truly needed your parents' approval and you are who you are.

And that person is Caterina Valentine, not "Crazy Cat" and not "Famous Cat," but just Caterina Valentine, and you were fine with that.

Author's Note: Because sometimes you need to stop looking for other's approval.

I am not thoroughly pleased with this because I think it's a bit confusing plus it moves pretty fast :( But I haven't updated anything in like forever and I've had this on the drawing board for a while and while I think it's incomplete, staring at it for a few more weeks is not going to help! :( Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and have a great day!