Disclaimer: I don't own Ringer, and probably never will, unless I somehow switch bodies with the owner of the show…and that would just be weird.

A/N: So…in this story, I'm guessing that Juliet is around 17 in the show (right now), and that Siobhan and Andrew have been married seven years (1 before the Siobhan/Bridget estrangement and 6 before Bridget came back). I'm also assuming that though Bridget and Siobhan weren't estranged yet Andrew wasn't told about Bridget because Siobhan was ashamed of her and also that if the Sean incident (I have no clue what that's about) involved Bridget Siobhan didn't tell Andrew.

Yup. Just keep in mind that the Juliet in my story is 10 years old, and it's right before Andrew and her mom got divorced and Andrew married Siobhan.

So…anybody have any idea who the heck Sean is and what happened with him? I know he's a little boy, but…

"I can't believe that Becca got sick." I complained from the backseat of the limo. Linnie, seated across from me, nodded sympathetically. "I told her not to eat so much cake."

Linnie sighed. "I know, Juliet, but what can you expect? She's not the brightest." Linnie was my part-time caretaker because Mom and Daddy were always so busy, or yelling at each other. I liked her, mostly because she believes anything I say, like how Becca was sick because of the cake.

"She could have listened." She could have listened to me when I told her that she shouldn't try that bottle of wine her Mom and Dad keep hidden in the pantry. Just because she overheard the maid saying how it feels like there's no worry in the world when you drink—

"Isn't she the one who has the brother in the army?"

I nodded, gulping. It scared me to think of him. "Yes. They…they say that he hasn't sent them a letter for months." She just wanted to stop worrying for a second, and I wanted her to stop too, but I told her not to do it… "I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he is." Linnie said confidently. "Don't you worry. Look, we're almost there already."

The limo pulled up in front of the huge building with our apartment at the very top, so that we don't have to listen to the sound of footsteps above us. Daddy pays a lot for that, because Mom hates listening to little kids run around al day and scream. Of course she says she didn't mind when I was little, because I was quiet. I was always a good girl.

I reluctantly made my way to the elevator, watching and waving as the limo pulled away. Linnie only takes me places now, when Daddy and Mom are too busy. They started fighting a lot, and suddenly they started to find reasons not to be home. I didn't mind as much anymore—I talk to the woman living downstairs, and the girl my age in the next building. The alley between my window and her window is only a foot or two, so we can open our windows and talk. She always tells me about the time when he parents fought too, and how now they're happy.

It was quiet when I reached the top floor, but I still tried to control myself, wipe away the guilt. Mom would see right through it when Daddy didn't, and I wasn't in the mood to explain what had happened with Becca, how she had gotten drunk and then sick. Besides, her parents would figure it out when they found the wine missing or smelled her breath when they went to check on her later tonight. By then I could just fake it when Mom and Daddy asked me if I knew what had happened, and I would hope that it never happened again.

I heard a tiny noise from the bedroom. "Daddy?" I called softly. There was no reply. Was he sleeping?

I crept closer, past the expensive and tasteless decorations, past floral-wallpapered hallways, and to his door. This time I heard a different voice, a woman's voice. Were they…talking? I remembered how angry Daddy had been this morning, how Mom had storming off, declaring she would never speak to him again.

I couldn't take it any longer, regardless of whatever was happing in there—I had learned about all that stuff from Linnie, school, and Wikipedia—I gently pushed on the door, hoping I was right.

Daddy was lying in bed, shirtless, and he was talking to some tiny, blonde woman I'd never seen before in my life. She wasn't wearing much of anything that I could see. Not above the covers, anyway.

"D-Daddy?" I said. I couldn't move.

He noticed me, the smile that hadn't been on his face for weeks fading away. "Juliet."

"I…oh. That's—I mean—I—" the blonde woman stammered, yanking the covers over her chest. "Andrew, I thought you said—"

"I know, I thought she wouldn't be back." Daddy said, eyes never leaving me. "Siobhan, could you—?"

"Of course." She got up, sweeping off the enormous closet to dress.

"Juliet." Daddy said softly. "Please, this isn't what you think. I just—"

"You cheated!" I accused him, my cheek burning. Tears were forming in my eyes. "You…you cheated on Mom! You're having an affair!"

He got up, wrapping the sheets around his waist. "Juliet, I didn't want this to happen, but your mother and I can't make our marriage work anymore. I'm not trying to…I don't want to disrespect her in any way. I'm just lonely." He talked in the short, stilted way a cornered person does.

I swallowed the sob forming in my throat, constricting my breathing. "You don't care about Mom. Not if you did this."

The blonde woman—Siobhan—came out dressed sloppily and shot an apologetic glance at Andrew. I couldn't contain myself as I watched her walk out. "You…you whore!" I sobbed, the vicious words catching with every breath. "You…you're a slut! I hate you! I hate you!"

Then I was screaming at Daddy too, not just Siobhan. I was screaming and crying and the world was spinning in circles while I swore at them, using all the words I had ever heard anywhere that sounded horrible. I could hear Daddy tell me to stop and Siobhan tell me to be reasonable, but I ran away and locked my self in my room. Eventually Siobhan left and Daddy went to his room.

Tearstained and heartbroken I snuck out, quietly ducking into the pantry. There was something I had to look for, something Mo kept around since she and Daddy started fighting. Something Becca was sure would take away all her troubles.

Now I needed it, no matter what the cost was.

A/N: I know, a little angst-y. I felt that Juliet was introduced to drugs and drinking when she was still young so she didn't really know what she was getting into until it was far too late and Siobhan had married Andrew.

So…I have to shower (is that TMI, as people who text say?) but after maybe I'll write a fanfic entitled "Worthless" which will be a companion to this. It's going to be how Bridget feels when she sees what Juliet wrote on Siobhan's picture.

Review, please :)