Welcome to Chapter 4. The usual disclaimers; I don't own the Fairly Odd Parents, or anything that I did not create, including any characters I don't tell you I made. For example, Howdy is my creation. The songs I use are mine, the bands are mine, and this story is mine.

For my readers, thank you for subscribing and reviewing and commenting. Answers, such as what happened to Tootie and why Vicky has been up and down the emotional spectrum are coming now. However …

This is very dark. Frankly, if you don't find this chapter to be disturbing, then to borrow Dennis Miller's words, "you've got to kill yourself. Lean into the strike zone and take one for the team."

Incidentally, in this chapter, when it comes to the flashbacks, Vicky is telling Timmy what is going on, but to keep this from being the chapter of her monologue, it will cut away to the past.

Chapter 4: Memory is a Tightening Noose (Vicky's Confession)

Timmy didn't know what to do. What could be so bad it would make Vicky cry? he thought with a shudder. He was sure he did not want to know. And based on what happened in the hallway, Tootie didn't want him to know, either.

He nervously spoke up. "Vicky, I'm OK with you not telling me."

Vicky looked away, still crying. This kid, this twerp she babysat was seeing her at her absolute weakest point, and the fact that he wasn't scheming to take revenge was a small comfort to her, as well as a reminder that she had to continue. "No, you have to know," she sobbed. "You have to understand what you're in"

Timmy thought of a response, but could only see how tired she was, how broken down she was. His heart went out to both the Flanagan girls, who had been through too much today. He said in a low whisper, "I wish you and Tootie were both OK."

Nothing happened.

He checked his bag, to see an empty space where his pink eraser and green pencil were supposed to be. Great time to leave.

Vicky started the car, and then continued. "It was seven years ago, before we moved here from Yreka. Our uncle Howdy lived with us, falling on hard times. I was jealous of Tootie. She was always his favorite. I didn't know why she was, but it always bugged me." She paused, then started sobbing again. "He always called her his good little doggie." She started crying hard, too hard to keep driving.

Timmy listened, then starting piecing it together. He thought of what Tootie was crying in the hallway, about not being a good doggie. As the horror of his realization was sinking in, he timidly responded, "Please. Tell me he didn't …" Timmy couldn't continue.

Vicky looked back at him. "Yeah. He did." After a minute of silence, Vicky wiped away her eyes, then started driving again.

Timmy felt ill; how could someone do that to Tootie; hell, anybody that age? "So what did you parents do when she told them?" he asked, hoping to hear something positive. Something like putting him in jail or an unmarked grave.

Vicky started tearing up again, but kept driving, wiping away tears. "That's where it gets worse."

(seven years ago)

"Tootie!" Mrs. Flanagan growled. "Those are horrible things you are accusing your uncle of. I know him, and he would never do such things to a little girl." She then slapped her face. "You will go to your room, and then when your Uncle Howdy comes home, you will apologize to him for making up such things!" She then turned to Vicky. "And you, you must have taught her those words and things. You are going to do a better job of watching what you say around her, young lady!"

Tootie cried in horror. "But mommy, I'm not making this up! He really made me do those things!"

Mrs. Flanagan slapped her face again. "No more of these lies!" she screamed. "Go to your room now!"

Tootie cried, from both being called a liar and the slaps, running to her bedroom, then laid in the room and cried.

(today)

Timmy sat in shock. Parents just aren't supposed to believe their own kids would make things like that up, especially Tootie. He lowered his head, trying to hold back tears of empathy on his friend's behalf.

Vicky broke the silence. "And believe it or not, it gets worse."

(seven years ago)

Vicky came up to Tootie's room, where she was still crying.

"You ingrateful little bitch!" Vicky yelled at her sister. "You're his favorite, the one he adores, the one he always wants to spend time with, and you make up such evil things about Uncle Howdy!"

Tootie kept crying, flabbergasted that nobody would believe her, not even her own sister. "I'm not making this up, Vicky. I swear."

Vicky's anger grew even hotter. "Give it up, Tootie! Nobody believes your stories. Uncle Howdy would never do anything like that. You've always been his good little doggie. You know, if I was his favorite, I would be nicer to him." Vicky slammed the door, confident in sticking up for her uncle.

(today)

Vicky pulled over again and started bawling loudly again. Timmy leaned over to try to hug Vicky, comfort her in some way, to be there. She pushed him away and he slammed against the passenger door.

"No! I deserve this!" she yelled through her crying. "She's my little sister. I was supposed to protect her, not turn against her like that. I mean, what the hell was wrong with me? She was six! What kind of six-year-old even knows about those things, let alone would lie about them?"

Timmy spoke up softly. "You were twelve. Parents are supposed to be right. You didn't know."

Vicky wiped away a few tears before talking again while putting the car back on the road. She continued slowly. "Well, I found out the worst way that she wasn't lying."

(seven years ago)

Vicky came home from school early. The assembly ended early, and she was happy to enjoy the rest of the afternoon, even if it was raining. She came home, closing the door quietly. She was trying to be more polite, make her parents happy. She saw her Uncle Howdy's coat on the couch and Tootie's coat, and thought she heard his voice in the kitchen. She quietly went to the kitchen and quietly opening the door, planning to surprise him.

What she saw horrified her.

(today)

"I saw the whole thing. How he humiliated her, used her, violated her. He didn't see me, and her eyes were closed as she was crying. The worst part was how he thought it was a joke, how he kept calling her a good doggie the whole time. He even …" Vicky stopped, sobbing, trying to breathe. "He even made her bark."

Timmy sat in absolute pain and rage. Fuck Da Rules, I'm gonna take this guy out myself! And if Cosmo and Wanda won't do it, I'll go to Jorgen. Even Anti-Cosmo would do it.

Timmy took a deep breath. "So what did you do?"

Vicky pulled over then lowered her head. "Not a damn thing," she whispered. "I was scared and in shock. I was a coward. I was weak, and my sister was raped – again – because of it!"

He put her hand in his. "Listen. You were twelve. You didn't know what to do."

She looked back at him, not flinching at Timmy. "Oh, but I knew what to do later. I didn't protect her, but I could sure as hell avenge her."

(seven years ago)

The rest of the house was asleep; Vicky wasn't. The thunderstorm was raging outside, but she didn't notice. She could not get the storm of images out of her head, of Tootie so helpless, of her uncle abusing her, of their parents not believing her. Even I didn't believe you. I'm so sorry, Tootie.

She went downstairs to try to think of something, anything to make her uncle stop, when she saw him in the kitchen, cutting off some roast beef with the butcher knife. Emboldened by righteous anger, she walked up to him. "You're going to stop," she said coldly.

Uncle Howdy smiled back at her. "Vicky. Did you want a sandwich, too?" he cheerfully asked.

Vicky looked back at him, eyes blazing. "I know what you've done to Tootie, and you're going to stop. Now."

Howdy laughed. "Oh, that. But I got my little doggie trained so well." He stopped chuckling and smiled widely. "You know, she doesn't even fight it anymore. She just does what she's told."

Vicky felt anger growing, so strongly, she thought her heart would burst. She growled out, "Whatever. You're done. And you're gonna leave tomorrow morning." She didn't know how she was going to enforce her new command, but she had all night to think of a way.

Howdy laughed louder. "No can do, Vicky. I'm hosting a party this weekend. I want to see how my doggie does with my friends." She stared at him in horror as he continued. "But hey, you can play with her too, if you want."

"WHAT?" she said, in absolute shock.

"I know you were watching us earlier today." He smiled wickedly at her. "If it bothered you, you would have stopped me. Or maybe, " he stepped closer, "you want a piece of the action." She stared at him, trying to decide whether to punch him or vomit. "You know, I'm sure I can train my doggie to get a taste of some kitty."

Vicky listened to that in horror and shock; he not only admitted that he was doing horrible things to Tootie, but now bragged about more things he was planning. Vicky's mind was flooded; he had to be stopped and stopped now. But parents won't help. She looked and saw the butcher knife on the counter. She didn't think about it; she just grabbed it and stabbed her Uncle Howdy in the chest while he was laughing. The speed and shock prevented him from stopping her before the blade went in. She screamed, howling in fury, hating him, hating her parents, hating herself. She kept stabbing, kept screaming, kept stabbing, kept screaming. He slumped down and hit the ground, dead and bleeding, and she kept stabbing. He hit the ground facedown, and she stabbed his back repeatedly. Vicky was beyond reason; her only plan was to hurt him and stop him.

Mr. and Mrs. Flanagan came running down, wanting to know why she was screaming. She looked at them staring at her in a kitchen covered in Howdy's blood, with Vicky in the middle of the room, covered in Howdy's blood, and eyes filled with fury and determination.

She held the knife and walked toward them slowly and steadily, a deadly calm overtaking her. "There are going to be changes around here."

(today)

Timmy was scared. He knew Vicky had a mean streak, even experienced some of that psychotic rage the night before, but never imagined she would go that far, or could go that far. Then again, I was thinking about it myself.

Vicky looked at him, sensing the fear. "I wasn't planning on doing that. I just wanted to make him stop hurting her. I hardened that day. My parents saw that, and they were scared. And served them right. Their daughter was in trouble and they did nothing. That's why I took over that night. I made them dump the body in a ditch and sell the house, bringing us here."

She wiped a few tears away, but seemed to be calming down a little more, enough to start driving again. "I swore I would protect her from everybody that would hurt her. Even with everything that happened to her, she's always been so sweet and kind, I guess I wanted to harden her so nobody could hurt her again. It worked, for a while. But then something went wrong. Something even I couldn't control."

He looked at he, confused. "What went wrong?" he asked, hesitantly.

For the first time since this started, she smiled. "You."

(four years ago)

Tootie came home from school, smiling. Her parents looked back at her and returned the smile. If we stay nice to Tootie, Vicky won't hurt us, they kept thinking. Vicky glared at the adults. "How was school, honey?" Mr. Flanagan asked.

Tootie kept smiling. "It was great. There was this mean bully who tried to pick on me, but this boy with a pink cap and buck teeth came to my rescue." Vicky scowled at the word boy.

Vicky asked her, "So what happened to him?"

Tootie kept smiling. "He got beat up. But he rescued me, my knight in shining armor."

(today)

Timmy remembered that. He thought nothing of it at the time, except for a bully picking on a little girl. Man, I had no idea what trouble I was getting into. "Um, sorry?" he meekly responded.

Vicky smiled again. "That's why I hated you. I wanted to run you off." Her smile went away, replaced by tearing up again. "I thought if I was mean enough, you'd stay away from her. I just saw you as someone who wanted to hurt Tootie."

Timmy looked directly in her bloodshot eyes. "I would never hurt her," he stated solemnly. "I swear."

Vicky met his gaze. "I know that now. You know, not even our father, joke that he was, could get close to her after …" she paused. "You're the only male that she can touch without flinching. I looked at you through the eyes of the scared twelve-year-old who failed her little sister and couldn't fail her again. I'm sorry, Timmy."

He wanted to look away, do something, do anything. "I understand." The car ride was silent after that, for a couple minutes. Then he worked up the courage to ask, "Where are your parents?"

Vicky thought for a second, and then decided to tell him. "When I turned eighteen, I made them sign over the house and custody to me. They get to start over, screwing up whatever life they are now. Good riddance. Of course, there is a charity that helps out with some of the cash, some foundation I never heard of. Not that it matters." She stopped talking until they arrived to the hospital. She looked back at him, praying he wasn't overwhelmed. "Listen, if you just want to go, I'll understand. I'll tell Tootie you couldn't make it. I know this is a lot to dump on someone your age."

He kept walking forward. "Tootie needs us. Where else can I go?"