Yeah, chapter 2! I apologise for it being so short! I hope you Vicky fans enjoy this!!! Happy reading1 :)

Chapter 2: The Door To Memories

Vicky had left the Turner's house and was now on her way home. The box she brought was under her arms, not even closed properly.

"Have I really made him that miserable?" She asked herself again. It had been all she had been able to think about ever since she heard Timmy say that.

"How could anybody stoop that low?" She said, repeating what Timmy had said about her. How could she? She had never meant to be that mean, she just was. But not always. When she was younger, she was just a small defenseless child who had no way to defend herself. It wasn't until recently that she had become what she was now. Evil, as Timmy put it.

She looked down at the half closed box in her hands. The bucket of cleaning supplies had spilled and there was stuff everywhere. One thing that stuck out to her even more that the rags or cleaners was the poker she had brought. Brought purely to show Timmy who was boss, so he wouldn't step out of line. She noticed a small shred of pink material on the end of it. A piece of Timmy's t-shirt, from when she stabbed him with it. Then it had seemed like a perfectly harmless thing to do, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Maybe I shouldn't have done that?" She asked herself again. She now hoped she hadn't hurt Timmy in the incident.

But then a new thought popped into her head. Maybe he had deserved it. He had always complained about doing chores. It seemed to her that he complained about everything. And complainers, as she felt, should be punished. That was how she had always felt about it, although she didn't use to actually do the punishing part.

She walked through the front door of her house. In the living room, she saw her younger sister, Tootie, sitting on the floor. She was playing with a Crimson Chin doll, the one that Timmy had given her.

"What are you doing, twerp?" Vicky asked her sister carelessly. She walked over to the table and set the box down on it.

"N-nothing" Tootie stammered. She hid the doll behind her back, knowing that Vicky hated it. Of course though, in her haste, she had accidentally hit a button on it, triggering it to say one of it's many action phrases.

"No one could ever like someone as icky as you!" The doll said. Vicky, hearing this, turned back to her sister.

"What did I tell you about playing with that stupid toy?" She yelled in her face. Tootie looked up at her in fear of what she might do.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again." She stammered though gasping breaths.

"You better not, or I'll.." Vicky started to respond. But she was cut short by the sound of a slamming door.

"Mommy!" Tootie screamed as she got up and ran out of the room. Vicky followed slowly out of the room after her, just to make sure she didn't get away with anything.

"Mommy, mommy..." Tootie screamed again. In the hall, Vicky's mother was just coming in the door, looking very tired. Tootie jumped straight into her arms.

"Mommy, Vicky's being mean again!" She sobbed in her mother's arms. Vicky just watched as her sister made a big scene.

"Well, we'll see what we can do." Vicky's mother said as she gently put Tootie down on the ground. She said that, but she knew that Vicky couldn't simply be punished. Vicky, over the years, had become so mean that even her parents feared her. Vicky had them right where she wanted them, in the palm of her hand.

Vicky's mother stood up to face her 16 year old daughter.

"Vicky, what is Tootie talking about?" She asked her in a nervous voice. Vicky stared back in a menacing way.

"Nothing, she made the whole thing up." Vicky said as she thought up an excuse. Vicky's mom, who was not used to hearing this sort of talk from Vicky, looked surprised.

"But Tootie said..." She started again, but Vicky interrupted.

"I said, she made it up!" Vicky said, her voice rising. She wasn't in the mood for this kind of crap from her mother.

"But..." her mother stammered again,

"Just leave me alone." Vicky said under her breath. And with that, she turned and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. Her mom just stared at her as she walked up the stairs.

Tootie walked back into the room to see what was happening.

"Did you punish her?" Tootie asked in a hopeful voice, even if she knew Vicky would never take it.

"Honey, how could I punish her when she didn't do anything?" She asked Tootie, but she was still looking up the stairs that Vicky had previously walked up.

"But, she did. I-I didn't.." Tootie stuttered, but her mom silenced her and she stopped talking.

"Why don't you go play with your toys like a good girl." Her mom said, shooing her off in the direction of the living room. Tootie took the hint and left. It wasn't as if it was a new experience. She was always getting blamed for things Vicky did. Of course, her parents never punished her. Then again, they didn't punish Vicky either. She kept getting away with everything, and she was sick of it. But, she decided she couldn't do a darn thing about it and, instead, sat down to play with the Crimson Chin Doll again.

Meanwhile, Vicky had made her way to her bed and laid down on it. She was thinking about what Timmy had said again, she just couldn't get it out of her head.

Then her mind wandered over to her parents. They had never been very good at it, at least that was how she felt. Tootie, who felt otherwise, always turned to them. Maybe that was a reason she had turned out this way. For as long as she could remember, she had always been jealous of all the love they gave her younger sister. She had never gotten that much love out of them, never. That was why she was so mean to them sometimes. She felt they should be punished for that. And as a result, she could almost control them. That was what she had always wanted, wasn't it?

She got up of her bed and walked over to her closet. She opened to door slowly and it creaked open. She didn't often go in her, too many memories. After some digging, she started to feel tears well up in her eyes. The closet was where she had kept all the things from her childhood. She pulled out a folder. It was torn and had red stains on it. Blood, obviously. She put it down and kept searching. The next thing she found was a photo, probably one that fell out of an album awhile back. It was a picture of her parents and Tootie. Tootie was just a baby and her parents were beaming, obviously very happy about their new daughter. Vicky wasn't in the picture. And she was sure, that if she was, they wouldn't have been smiling.

Finally, she emerged with what she had been looking for. It was her old diary. The cover was torn and tattered, showing that it had a lot of use. Bits of paper were sticking out everywhere. She had inserted things like school projects, ones mainly about her family. But mostly, the writing in it was expressing her hate towards everything in her life.

She stood up and closed the closet door on all her past memories. Then, with the book under her arm, she walked over to her bed and sat down. She was a little nervous at what she might read. She had never done this before, never felt the need to. But right now, she felt that she needed to find out just why she had been so miserable. She told herself she was doing this because it would help her feel less guilty about torturing Timmy. Of course there was another reason, but she put that reason out of her head completely. She opened the book to the first page. Dust was sent swirling into the air and she noticed the writing was messy. Probably because she was about 5 when she started this diary. Nevertheless, she started reading the hand writing.

A/N: I know, short chapter, but neccesary. Wow, Vicky's actually feeling guilt?! That's new!