AN: I wanted to give more history to the OCs in the story. I'm doing this now for no other purpose, than that I have hit a writers block with the shooting and need to think of how things will work out for the iCarly cast. I have decided to start with Vick, then Dalton. This is simply because Dalton's will be a lot longer that Vick's.
Vick's P.O.V.
The whole reason that I'm here is my dad's fault (Now don't judge me, I know what your thinking how is it your dad's fault, for you going ballistic?). I'll tell you why it's his fault.
When I was six my dad developed an addiction to cocaine, and this was on top of his border line alcoholism. He never loved my mom for even giving birth to me. He hated me because I was the brainy type and my dad wanted the sporty type of son. The kind of son who could carry on his high school football legacy. I just turned out not to be the son he wanted.
For the next to years of my life he would come home and, knock my mom unconscious with his then broken last bear bottle. Afterwards he would come after me. I had been both beaten by my father and much worse. One night I had attacked him first be for he could hurt my mom. He didn't take kind to that at all. He eventually knocked my mother and me out cold for a good wile. When I finely woke I was in the besetment, tied to the bed frame of the bed that used to be my grandmother's.
I distinctly remember a strange smell, that I would now no to be dried urine. My mom was on the floor next to the bed. See was naked and passed out. It wasn't till the door at the top of the stairs opened to revile my dad that I would come to realize that I too was naked. When my dad interred, he was not alone. There were two big, fat, vulgar white men with him (I would later discover that all three of them had their way with my mother, without her consent).
"So what did you guys think of the bitch?" I over herd my father say with a drunk and proud voice.
"She was to lose. You have over used her." The fattest of the tree had said.
"Yeah, she's no fun even when we all go at the same time. There is no pressure with in her, she's loser than a baggie jeans." The second unknown man had said.
"Hahahaha, don't give me to hard of a time guys. Its not like she's in her prime that was twenty years ago." My fathers words at the time made no since to me, but now they haunt my every dream. What comes next I can never forget.
"Ha, wouldn't that make her ten or eleven." That was the fattest one again, I know just call him guy 1.
"Hahahaha, you know it. She gave birth to this one at 24." He just started to chuckle.
"Speaking of the boy. He has decided to wake up." I didn't know what to what to expect.
"Well gentle men it looks like we will get a youthful peace of meat tonight after all." The words that haunt me every second of every minute, every minute of every hour, every hour of every day, every day of every week, and every week of every year of my life.
What he did next I have done every thing I can think of to everlastingly get it out of my mind to no avail. On that night my father didn't just have his way with my mother but with me, and with to other men. He left after they were done. He left with the men. My mother would later awake to free me and wash me up. My mother and I believe to this day that he had every intention of leaving and never coming back. But he ran out of money. There for he returned one last time. During his brief visit he had hit and incapacitated my mother. I was scared for her life, even though the dumb bitch wanted him back. I ran to the safety of my room (it had a lock on it), but not to hide, not to run for help, but for action. I grabbed my gun (my grandfather had given it to me when he was still alive, he would take me to go hunting with him. Of course I was too young to know what to do but he did it anyway) loaded it, turned and found my father. At first he was real forceful with his demand to hand over the gun. But I did relinquish the rifle. As he approached me I fired, he fell like a tone of rocks. His blood ran all over the carpet. It was like a river pivoting down the sides of the white thread of the carpet. Just to pivot in the opposite direction and go up the next thread.
Two weeks latter I was in court with a government defense attorney. I got off with self defense after another for weeks in court. I was given to a foster family until my mother could prove she was a fit parent. She didn't want me how ever. I would only see her again because the foster family wouldn't keep me. She never forgave me for what I did to my father. She loved him no matter what, even more that me.
No one believes me when I tell them my mother hates me. But I know the truth she dose and she will pay for her bad parenting actions too. If it's the last thing I do. She had become an alcoholic like my father had been, she abused me too, until I was able to over power her by my 11th birth day. Now here I was with a gun, the power to kill them all. But I needed to think if this was the right think to do.
Dalton was making a very good point in my mind. I could leave free and look good if he killed them and then shot him self, with my finger prints on the gun one nice hit on the face it would look as if I had fought him for the weapon and he got shot by accident he would go to prison or die and I would be fine. I could get my revenge on my mother, but not if I was in prison. I was at a fork in the rode, could I trust him. He did seam to know what its like. He might be as crazy as me he might be serious and really try to help me. Or he could be a traitor, stab me in the back as it were, and be the hero that got everyone out ok.