Author's Note: Timmy is fifteen in this fanfic. It's not that hard to figure out, considering Vicky's five years older anyway.
And, for some reason that might become clear to me later on, Timmy's narrative will be in first person, present tense. I guess it's to distinguish between the two. (shrugs)
Disclaimer: Fairly Oddparents is never mine. It will never be mine. So there.
Chapter Two: Exploitation
She's creepy. Okay, I'll admit, she goes beyond creepy. In fact, creepy can't even begin to describe her.
I used to think Icky did it, but that's not true anymore. Even after six years of torturing me, she still hasn't had her kicks yet. No matter what, she finds new ways to antagonize me.
In a small way, I'm glad because it allows me to keep Cosmo and Wanda. Sometimes, I wonder what I would have done without them. They're the only thing keeping me together around her.
I almost wish she were more like her younger sister. At least then, she'd be more under control. I'd understand her a lot more, too. All I know is what Cosmo and Wanda have told me about her, but I can't believe that's the truth after all these years. I think it's a quick excuse for a real problem.
But I never really cared to look further than that. You don't really try to antagonize the beast, you know? With Vicky, you never know when she might snap…or kick you when you're down.
Take now, for instance. I'm cleaning out the toilet for the umpteenth time (I think I've seen the inside of a toilet more times than an alcoholic, at this point) and there she is, staring at me. What'd I ever do to you, Icky Vicky? Yeesh.
She's ordering me around again, and, at this point, I've about had it. Unless she's got some blackmail or something out there, I quit. Let her find another lackey, I'm sick and tired of this job. In fact, the next time she asks me to clean the toilet; I'd like to shove her head in there. She and the toilet can make out, for all I care.
"When you're done with that-" Vicky cackles, shoving my head further down. That's it! I've had it with her!
Reeling back, I manage to snap my head into her stomach. It catches her off guard and she stumbles. I waste no time and quickly exit, being sure to lock her in there. Leave her to do all the chores she assigned me. Hmph.
She pounds on the door, but, like she did when I was younger, I pay her no mind. Let her scream and rant and rave all she wants, I'm not letting her out. This is payback time.
In between threats, I could swear I actually catch my name, which is odd, because she's never called me that when we're alone (other than in a threat). Usually, it's 'twerp', 'brat', or, occasionally, 'buck-toothed loser', but never Timmy. My name gives me pause and I stand by the door. Of course, I'm not going to open it, but maybe she's actually going to apologize.
"Timmy Turner, open this door right now or I'll call your parents!" Vicky screeches and I scowl. Why on earth did I think she was going to apologize? She'd sooner rot in the underworld before she ever said as much as 'sorry'. She hates my guts and I hate hers. It's just the way the world operates.
Meanwhile, a green potted plant winks at me and a pink rose scowls. Good ole Cosmo and Wanda, looking out for me. Heh, I knew Cosmo would approve. Although they hate her almost as much as I do, he's one for more physical actions. Wanda would prefer I did things less violently, but what do you expect? I am a guy.
I ignore her and go to play video games. For over an hour, Wanda and Vicky screech at me. Fortunately, a wish silences both of them, but Wanda continues to make angry gestures in the air. Cosmo takes to imitating her, much to her annoyance.
Finally, after I'm done with Blood Skull Crushers of Hades, I wish for Vicky to be able to speak again. (Not Wanda, because I'm not really in the mood for a lecture. I'll give her back her voice…later.)
"Timmy…" Vicky whispers and I can barely hear her. Very carefully, noiselessly, I creep to the door and listen intently. Either her voice has given out or she's given up. In either case, I want to hear her.
"Timmy…I'm sorry…" Here she breaks off, but it doesn't sound as though her voice has given out. Instead, it almost sounds as though she's crying…and that shocks me more than anything. Icky Vicky cry? Did the sky fall down, Chicken Little?
I daren't open the door, though. Right now, I'd like to savor the moment…and I wish for a tape recorder so I can blackmail her later. However, the next thing I hear makes me drop the tape recorder in shock.
"I'm sorry…I love you…"
Wait, what! What the hell is going on here! If I were a wimpier person, I think I'd faint from the shock. For now, though, I think I'll stare blankly, just like Cosmo and Wanda are. In fact, Wanda's giving the wall one wicked stare.
Choked sobs escape her as well as those three words I've only heard out of Tootie's and my parent's mouths. (Of course not Trixie…I'll never be lucky enough for that). Maybe out of someone like Veronica (who's a psycho, anyway), it wouldn't be such a shock, but out of someone that made it a hobby to show how much she hated me? No way.
I don't know whether I should open the door or not. After all, she may say it's a trick, but I've never heard her break down like that. I think she's successfully scared me more than when she's torturing me. I grew up learning Vicky had no empathy and love- what's going on!
I settle for staring at the door some more and waiting for her to spring the trap. C'mon, Vicky, tell me that you hate me and you're playing a nasty trick on me. Just, you know, stop crying like that. You're really frightening me.
Hopelessly, she bangs against the door and whispers, "C'mon, Timmy…let me out…this really isn't funny…"
Wanna know something weird? It stopped being funny when she started crying. In fact, I can't remember why I thought it was so funny at all.
Even so, I'm still hesitant to let the beast out. You never know when she might lunge…and I'll be damned if she lets me get away with hearing her cry like this. (Although the longer she cries, the worse I feel). As soon as I unlock it, she'll make me wish I was never born. I usually do.
Maybe I could keep her locked in here until my parents come home. Sure, it's cruel, but it'll keep her from killing me. When in battle with Vicky, you gotta keep your guard up and when she's down, you keep her down. No matter how bad I feel about hearing her like this...
Finally, though, she falls silent. Every once in a while, she hiccups, but that's probably because she was crying so long. Vicky and crying, error, error, does not compute…Man, wait until my friends hear that tape.
Again, the unsettling feeling returns in the base of my stomach. As much as I hate Vicky and as much as I enjoy kicking her while she's down, I kind of don't want them to hear her saying she loves me. It creeps me out, imagine how they'll react…
Not to mention Tootie- I wonder if she has any idea. Probably not; it'd devastate her. Unless she really didn't think Vicky stood a chance at me (and the thought of me and Vicky- gah!) Somehow, I don't think she knows. And, as I don't wish Vicky's love on my worst enemy (heh, heh, Crocker), I'm not telling her. Let her figure out on her own if Vicky's nasty enough to tell her.
Reluctantly, fumbling with the lock, I open the bathroom door and Vicky looks up at me, her eyes red rimmed. Unless she's become a much better actress than I thought, I hadn't misheard her. This is going to be awkward.
"How much did you hear?" Vicky asks, guarded. She looks at me warily and I quickly back up. I know something powerful about her and I could exploit it. For the first time in my life, I have power over her.
"All of it," I tell her with a triumphant grin. Before I can say 'fairy godparents', all the color drains from her face.
"If you tell anyone-" She begins, but I growl back at her. No more ordering around, not now that I know this. Forget locking her in a bathroom, this is much better.
Going nose to nose, I growl at her, "If I tell anyone, it'll be your downfall. Everyone will know you're in love with me and you'll be ruined everywhere. My parents won't pay your salary, since they'll fire you, no one in your college will be able to resist making your life a living hell, and I'm sure the few people you wanted to impress will be thoroughly disgusted with you."
She draws back, fear shining in her eyes for the first time in a long while and a sick sense of satisfaction runs through me, knowing I put it there. Good, she's afraid of me. Just what I've always wanted.
"From here on, you'll do whatever I say or else," I snap, and, in no uncertain terms, I indicate what would happen in the case of an 'or else'. She nods grimly and sets to work on my tasks.
This might just work out.
