Disclaimer: I do not own Vicky or any other characters or stuff from The Fairly Oddparents.

Note: This is a one shot story - just so you know- and as you can see it mainly concerns Vicky, and why she is the way she is. It's the first ofmany stories (the So Many Tears stories).

(April 29, 2005. Added Note.)Dang no more songfics! So now I gotta take off the lyrics to this story(this WAS a sonfic to "Rain On Me" by Ashanti).Well enjoy anyways, and review, or else. (Just playing). And if you think I made Vicky OOC, I didn't, all I'm doing is showing another side of her. A more vulnerable side, if you ask me.

The Reason

Vicky sat silently on the roof of her parent's house, staring of into the horizon. A soft breeze blew, rustling her red hair. Outside was so peaceful, it seemed the world was completely unaware of the raging war that went on inside that blue house.

Vicky sighed heavily, pressing her knees closer to her chest. She couldn't understand why her parents fought so much, and why her dad always seemed to blame things on her when they were over.
Oh well, She thought, at least when tomes are rough I can always come out here.

The red-haired teen gave a slight smile, she was sure grateful she had this place, even if it was just he roof. For it was always so quiet and peaceful, and so close and easy to get to. And because if Vicky didn't have a place to escape to, she might as well go crazy. But than after all she'd been through, was it even possible that she could still be sane? The torture she was forced to endure inside of that house was far too much for someone her age to handle.

"VICKY!" A voice Vicky recognized as her dad's came from inside the house.

"Great." Vicky sighed. Her dad was mad and that defiantly meant trouble for her, and she'd rather not go, but that'd only make her dad angrier.

The teenage girl slipped back into her room and went to the kitchen where she knew her father was.

"Yeah Dad?" Vicky said uneasily, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted these dishes done by the time I got home?" Her father said angrily in his rough voice.

"I finished them." Vicky answered back although she knew better than to. Suddenly a sharp pain filled her cheek and she was sent to the ground, hitting the tile hard.

"Than what's this?" He asked, picking up a fork and plate out of the sink.

"That's only two things." Vicky replied, regretting it the second the words left her lips. A horrid pain filled her stomach, as all the air was knocked out of her with the kick of her father's foot.

"Who do you think you are Vicky! Don't you dare be talking back to me, unless you want a beating. So finish those dishes, and when you're done, I want that animal of yours out of the house. Got it!" He yelled, his face seemingly threatening another kick if she answered wrong.

Vicky nodded her head, unable to speak. Slowly she picked her self up, holding her stomach and holding back tears. She picked up the plate and slowly began to scrub it, wondering why her dad had to be so mean to her. All she ever did was be born and he just instantly hated her, never gave her a hug, or a smile, or even one kind word. He acted as though he lived to make her miserable, every day he tortured her with his endless insults and commands, giving heart least one good beating daily.

When she was little, Vicky also remembered her dad beating on her mom too. He would always yell at her, actually he treated both Vicky and her mom practically the same. He'd beat them, constantly yell at them, and make them do stuff for him. That was her childhood, filled with nothing but miserable days.

Than Tootie was born. The first two years were like a break for Vicky and her mom. Her dad calmed down a bit to make sure Tootie started her life in a peaceful world. In these days Vicky learned to really love her sister, but than by the third year, the red haired child was forced back into a chaotic life. With her father treating her little sister so much better than her, and that made Vicky jealous. She craved the love and happiness Tootie had, but couldn't get it, so she decided Tootie was going to live a life like the one she did. And so was every other little spoiled or loved kid she could get her hands on.

The red-haired teen sighed as she came back from Memory Lane. Its not fair, She thought as she finished rinsing off the fork. Now finished with the dishes, Vicky walked over to her room and gazed down at her dog. Throwing them out was the worst thin her dad could have told her to do, but she knew she had to do it unless she wanted him to beat her down.

"Sorry Doidle." Vicky told her dog. "But Dad said you have to go outside." She picked him up gently, and took him to the backyard where she put him down, hating the way he looked at her when she shut the door on him.

"Hey Vicky, phone!" A squeaky, little voice came from the living room. Vicky followed the voice, and found her little sister holding the house phone out to her.

"Give it!" Vicky said harshly, snatching the phone from Tootie's little hand, and placing it to her ear. "Hello?" She asked in a sweet happy voice, even through all the pain and misery she felt in her heart.

"Hello Vicky?" Mr. Turner's cheery voice came over the receiver. "Can you come and baby-sit Timmy while me and my wife go out for dinner?"

"Sure Mr. Turner, I'll be right over." Vicky said and hung up the phone, her fake smile instantly fading. She walked over to her parent's room, and found her raven-haired mother sitting upon her bed watching TV. "Hey Mom, I'm going over to the Turner's house to baby-sit, K?"

"All right Vicky, have fun. I love you." Her mom answered, waving her thin hand.

"Bye, love you too." Vicky answered before leaving. However, she only got one foot out of the door before she was stopped by her dad.

"Where the hec are you going?" He said angrily.

Vicky froze and took in a deep breath, "I have to go baby-sit." She answered.

"Baby-sit? Hmp, the only job you can ever get. But I doubt you'd even do it right, you can't do anything right."

Vicky clenched her hands into fists, it made her so mad when her dad told her those things. "I have to go now." She said, trying to sound calm and hurriedly walked out the front door, her father's shouts following behind her.

"Bye Mr. And Mrs. Turner!" Vicky waved as Timmy's parents drove off in their car. She than turned, Timmy Turner frightenly looking back at her.

Vicky glared at him, both his parent's loved him, both of them cared about them and would never treat him like dirt. Timmy wasn't beat by his dad, wasn't insulted to no end for no reason at all, wasn't forced to do endless chores by his parents. He lived a good life and had a good family. Vicky hated him for that.

"All right Twerp," She began angrily, "its bathroom duty for you."

"And if I refuse?" Timmy asked, arms crossed.

Vicky smiled, "Than I show your parent's this report card." She took a yellow piece of paper from her pocket that was labeled "Report Card" and had a huge red "F" marked on it.

Timmy's light blue eyes went to the ground, giving him a look of defeat. "I'll get to work." He sighed and walked off.

The baby-sitter's evil smile faded and she followed the boy upstairs. She found him in the bathroom, down on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor by the toilet with a green scrubber, a bottle of pink soap next to him. Upon his face was a look of misery, making Vicky smile. She laughed at him, though she really didn't know why.

Yet she stood , leaning against the doorway and watched as Timmy cleaned the sink, the toilet, the bathtub, the mirror, and the floor, all as she laughed and tormented him. Even still Vicky watched with satisfaction, the whole time pretending that by tormenting Timmy she was getting revenge for the way that she was treated.

"Okay Twerp, I guess that's enough for today." Vicky said as soon as Timmy was completely finished. For her dad didn't make her do to much that day.

"Really?" Timmy asked, his face lit up with hope.

"Nope!" Vicky than shouted, suddenly changing her mind. "Now you have to do laundry!" Timmy looked up at her and seemed to sigh as if the task was too easy. "By hand!" Vicky added and laughed as Timmy's expression became that of misery again. She watched with a satisfied smile as he glumly walked away. And as soon as he was out of sight, she went downstairs.

Vicky went over to the living room and sitting upon the couch, took out the Teen People magazine she'd brought with her. The redhead looked through the magazine, soon coming upon an article about girls with abusive boyfriends. Reading it though reminded her of her mom and dad, making her quickly close the magazine and put it to the side. Instead, Vicky lay down, closed her eyes, let her thumb find her mouth, and went to sleep.

Slowly Vicky opened her eyes as she was softly being shaken. "Vicky, Vicky." A small voice said. Vicky raised herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes so she could see.

"Whadaya want Twerp?" She asked harshly as soon as her vision cleared up and she could see the 10-year-old boy standing in front of her.

"I'm uh, hungry. Can you make me something to eat, please?" He begged, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

"Fine." Vicky said, getting up. "But first, you have to act like a little girl."

"What!" Timmy shouted in shock. "I'm not gonna act like a little girl!"

"Than I guess you're not gonna eat either."

"Man," Timmy said angrily, "why do you always make me do stuff like that?"

Vicky only blinked in response, taken aback by his question. He'd never asked her that before, and she didn't know the answer. Why was she so mean all the time? Why dose she always torture little kids? Why did she enjoy it? Why is she the way that she is? Why is she always so angry and miserable all the time?

Suddenly Vicky knew the answer, knew it and was sure of it. Sure as she was sure that she was wearing a green shirt. Her surprised look than faded into a look of angry frown, "Because of a man named Vick DeLisle." She mumbled.

"What?" Timmy asked.

"Nothing." Vicky answered in a low angry voice and went to the kitchen to make Timmy a plate of spaghetti with sauce, his favorite.