Disclaimer: I do not own Victorious

I grip the slim, glass vase in my hand, the rose inside it already withered and dead. With a wave of cold fury it smashes in my hands, several shards biting deep into my palm satisfyingly, and I let my warm blood stain my porcelain-white skin. Another object catches my eye, my black computer chair, and my boot hits it so hard it skids to the other side of the room, and then topples over.

My heart is being torn to bits by an invisible force, and I'm trying my best not to claw at it and rip it out of myself just so that it would stop. Ripping it out would be a lot less painful.

I turn to my bedside table and pull open the drawer. Tears cloud my gaze as I stare down at stacks of paper, letter from Beck that both attract me and disgust me, disgust me because they're sappy and cheesy, attract me because my boyfriend isn't afraid to show his sappiness and cheesiness.

My ex-boyfriend.

I tear the drawer out, head over to the den and shove the letters into the burning fireplace. I take my wallet out of the pocket of my jeans, my hands are shaking wildly now, and open it, staring down at the picture of the person I started loving two years ago, the person who insisted on having me when I rejected him over and over again.

I remember that now. Two years ago, when I came to Hollywood Arts. I was just as disturbing and cold back then. I was young, my hair was still straight and brown, and I had no friend, nor did I care. I was walking through the hallways, no familiar face in sight, and I saw him, surrounded by girls, and instantly I was revolted. Apparently, he saw me too, because he came over and introduced himself.

Beck Oliver.

The girls kept on touching his hair, and he didn't shoo them off. He was one of those boys, the ones with egos rivaling mine, the ones who thought they could get any girl they wanted.

I poured the steaming cup of coffee I had on his hand then left.

I thought that would scare him away, but it didn't. He was persistent. He tailed me like a dog, his cheerleader groupies tailed him like fleas. I did everything I can to push him away. I showed my favoritism for the disturbing, I brought large scissors to school and constantly got detention because of it, but I was sent to detention so much that they got tired of punishing me and left me alone, I shouted at him, stepped on him, shoved him away, humiliated him in front of everybody.

But he still kept following me.

And when, one night, I asked him why, he said that he knew he was in love with me from the first day he saw me. I punched him in the jaw, but that didn't stir him. I flipped him off and told him that he was a superficial jerk, like all men. Then he knelt down and pleaded. This superficial jerk knelt down and pleaded, told me that he really did love me, but for reasons that are far from superficial.

He said he loved the way I fought back. He said he loved the way I stood up for myself and the people I had come to know as my friends, a songwriter named André Harris, a weird kid named Robbie Shapiro and his annoying puppet Rex Powers, and a ditzy naïve girl named Cat Valentine. He said I was smart, witty, quick-thinking and sly, and he loved it. He said he loved that I had my own opinions of everything. He said he loved that I'm not afraid of what I like or don't like. He said he loved me.

We were both crying then, young hearts are so fragile. He was crying because he wanted me to give him a chance, I was crying because it was the first time somebody had ever told me they liked—no, loved me for me.

And so I did. I gave him a chance, and I realized that I loved him too, and that I pushed him away because I was afraid to love him, afraid that he would just hurt me, but in the end I was the one who hurt him. We became a couple, and for a long time I knew my emotions were real and genuine. They were, but they started to change when a specific half-Latina girl showed up in her sister's place at the Showcase.

We started to fight a lot more, sometimes over the littlest of things. Don't get me wrong, I still loved him, but not in the same way anymore. My love for him settled at 'brotherly-love' and not 'lover-love'. And I was in denial, and blamed it all on Tori Vega, who was the cause of all this, because she made me realize that what I had with Beck wasn't what I really needed.

I bashed her, I flamed her, I swore to all things holy that I hated her. But I didn't. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

And Beck was caught in the middle of it. He was confused, hurt, and it was all because of me. Because he believed I was the one he was looking for, yet I was convinced that he wasn't what I was looking for. But still I held on to him, hoping that I could make him that, but I couldn't. He's not the one, she is. And it sucks like chiz.

I stare down at the picture of him, at his innocent face and his caring smile and his warm eyes, and I throw it into the fireplace as well, the flames destroying it quickly.

I fall to my knees and sob into my bloody hands both still stinging from all the fragile items I broke.

He wasn't the one I was looking for. But still it hurts so much.

I strangled cry escapes my lips and I bang my fists against the hardwood floor, waves of pain rocking my body.

I hear a knock on the door and I bite my mouth shut, my breath sharp, fast, and uncontrollable. My parents can't be home yet. They aren't due home 'til the end of the week.

"Jade?"

I let out another loud sob as I hear the voice, melodic and filled with worry. I instantly run for the door and open it, throwing myself into the arms of the slender girl. She's the only one who came for me. No Beck, no André, no Robbie, no Cat, just her.

"Oh my God, Jade, what happened?" Her arms wrap around me in a warm embrace and I pull her inside without breaking the hug, using my foot to kick the door closed. Instantly we drop to a sitting position and stay like that for what seems like eras. Her touch comforts me in ways only she can, as I realized when I broke up with Beck months ago. She strokes my back and kisses the crown of my head and croons into my ear, telling me that she's here, that she won't leave me. And I know she won't.

When I finally calm down, we head for the kitchen, leads me to sit on the tall bar stool and she gives me a glass of water, which I down eagerly. She finds the First Aid kit and removes all of the glass shards still stuck in my hands before cleaning them, putting on some ointment, then dressing them, and all the while I tell her everything, except, of course, the her part. I tell her how my feelings for Beck started to change, that I realized he was more of a brother to me than a lover, but I didn't tell her that she caused it. Not today, at least.

When I'm done my voice is hoarse and raspy, and she gives me another glass of water, which I finish in more or less three long takes. She puts her scarf underneath the faucet, wets it, and begins to clean my face from the dry blood and the eyeliner. I don't protest. She holds my face in one hand, wipes it with the scarf with the other, and when she's done she gazes at me softly, her chocolate-brown eyes filled with sympathy, understanding, warmth, care—everything I've grown to love about her. Then she kisses me on my forehead, a gesture that sends warmth coursing through my body, making my skin tingle with goose bumps and my heart swell with emotion.

She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before leading me to my bedroom for clean-up duty.

It's half-an-hour to midnight, and my room is next to normal. All the broken glass is gone, all traces of blood wiped, it's like nothing had happened, but of course, something did, and the lack of items proves it. The withered roses Beck had given to me all the years, the picture frames of he and I, his letters, his gifts. All that remains is the ring still tied around my neck. I was about to get rid of it when Vega told me not to. I obliged.

Now we are both on my bed, my head on her shoulder, her arm wrapped around mine, our fingers intertwined, our legs tangled, and we share our warmth.

"Jade?" The girl asks.

"Hmm?" I snuggle closer into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent, a mix of vanilla and lavender, I think, and let out a sigh. Vega and I interacting, keeping each other close, in each other's arms for warmth and comfort and companionship, it has happened more than once, like in Beck's RV when Vega was tired from swimming and playing with the others, in the Janitor's Closet after I tried to ruin her Prome and almost got raped by Doug the Diaper Guy, when she, Cat, and I had a sleep-over after our trip to San Diego… It's always like this. Only in her arms do I find comfort and safety. Only in her arms.

"Why do we always end up like this?" Wow, way to be a mind-reader, Vega.

"I guess you're the only one who's really been there for me," I admit with a shrug, my voice still pretty rough from all the crying. "Thanks for that."

I feel her chuckle and her hug tightens. "You know I'll always be here for you."

I place a kiss on the crook of her neck. "I know."

I take a deep breath and find myself glancing at the clock.

"I think I should drive you home," I murmur. "It's nearly midnight, and the streets aren't safe—"

"Nonsense. I'm staying for the night. I already told my parents." She presses her lips into my hair. "Besides, I know that yours won't be home until the end of the week, and I don't think it's good for you to be alone for now."

Normally that sort of statement would be offensive, that I can't handle being alone, but through Vega's lips it's comforting, and I know it's true.

"Thanks for staying," I whisper.

"Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise." And I don't doubt that one bit. Vega reaches over to turn off the lamp, plunging us into the soft darkness, before cuddling me even closer to her. I smile when I feel she placed one last kiss on my forehead, and I place my own on her shoulder. Vega's chest rises and falls with every breath, and I match her breathing, her scent, her warmth and the steady beat of her heart lulling me to sleep.

Whew! And done! Something a little bit more emotional, and a sneak peak of the next chapter to come out, Survival of the Hottest. Honestly, I think this is one of the nicest chapters I've ever done. Writing this was heaven, really. :) I hope you guys like this as much as I do!