Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own any part of the Victorious franchise.


Welcome to the Fallout.

V.

Keeping it together was becoming more and more of a challenge as time quickly past me by. My emotions just affected me so much that every day I could feel my control over them slipping away a little bit more.

It was so exhausting having to keep so many people in the dark. It weighed down on me all too heavily and having to be picky about what I said—when I even spoke at all—was a full-time job. Soon enough, I couldn't even find solace in my own thoughts.

Luckily, I had Andre to keep me in check, but there were still some things that I couldn't or wouldn't put on him. He worried about me entirely too much for his own good and I was afraid I was becoming more of a burden than a friend to him.

Things were happening all around me. People were carrying on with their lives like normal.

And I was just standing, watching from the sidelines.

About two weeks or so after the dinner with my family, I violently jerked awake from my sleep, drenched with cold sweat.

I had had a dream.

That in itself was enough cause for alarm. I hadn't dreamed in months. At least if I did, I never remembered them. Until now.

I woke up with the images still burned into my eyes. I lie back and let my lids fall closed as I tried to catch my breath.

I had been in my house. I was wandering through all of the rooms looking for something, but I didn't know just what it was. It was dark, that much was obvious, and I was wearing a thin, uncomfortable sleeping gown that suspiciously looked like those found in a hospital.

I was calm. Too calm. There was a static sense of urgency in the air, though I remained cool and passive. I walked into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Dark as it was around me, I could see my reflection perfectly. Or rather, the reflection of who I used to be. She looked so happy, so healthy. Not a care in the world. She smiled brightly. I frowned in response.

Suddenly, I found myself inside a room I didn't recognize at first. As I took in my surroundings, I came to realize that it was our guest bedroom, although all of the decorations and furniture were gone. Even the walls were bare of color. The moonlight that streamed in through the window cast an eerie sideways glow across the floor of the room.

My feet traveled forward of their own accord, seemingly kicking up dust. I felt compelled to something on the far side of the room, which seemed to grow farther away the more I made my way forward. The walls seemed to narrow out and still I drifted ahead, unaffected by the unnatural change.

I walked for what seemed like hours. I came to a stop when I reached the far wall. I peered down at the shadows by my bare feet.

My eyes followed the outline of a white tarp; the kind you might put down to cover furniture. I traced every inch of the material with my eyes until they rested on a shape lying in the middle of the rippling sheet. I knelt down to get a closer look at what it was.

And in the middle of a bundle of blankets, there was a small face.

A child. No, an infant.

The face was a tiny replica of a face that I've tried for months to forget. A face that has haunted my thoughts.

B—his face.

I felt obligated toward it. I somehow knew that it belonged to me.

Upon closer inspection, I saw that the child was peering at me with curiosity, as if I were a stranger. I looked at his eyes. They held a sense of wisdom that was contradictory of the innocent body they belonged to.

I was unaffected by this human being. I straightened up and gave the tiny creature one last bank stare. I turned my back and drifted from the confines of the now much smaller room.

The dream cut short as I bolted upright.

A sense of dread gripped my insides. I was completely, completely indifferent to the... to the baby, my baby in that dream. That scared me. How could you ignore an enigma?

You couldn't. I realized with a sick feeling that that was what I had been attempting to do all of this time. I couldn't ignore this any more, however I wouldn't accept it yet, either.


A few days went by after that dream. The nights were uneventful; it was like my subconscious was dormant after that nightmare. I was grateful, after that I almost never wanted to dream again.

The tiny face had been plagued my mind constantly and it just served to make me more on edge. I was really paranoid about my body now, so I ended up wearing huge sweatshirts more often then not.

I didn't tell Andre about the dream. It was just so frightening. I felt nothing towards that baby, and that was scary. I should have feel something, anything. Just an instinctual pull. Nothing else. No love, no affection, no adoration. I didn't want to be like that in real life. Never.

And by the path I had been taking lately, it was likely that it might. That thought made me shudder every time.

I made my way to lunch one day, or rather to the black box theater. I frequented there regularly now. It was a much needed break from the hundreds of too loud voices that I was around all day. And this way, no one would bug me about not eating much if I was alone.

I had graduated to eating a sandwich and a bottle of water everyday for lunch. Small steps, right?

I made my way to climb onstage and made myself comfortable in the middle. I ate in silence, looking out around the empty room, the only sounds being my delicate chews and small swigs of lukewarm water. I thought about mediocre topics for one, trying to actually make an effort not to make myself miserable with my own thoughts and memories.

My life was kind of an oxymoron now. On the one hand, things were... well, I wouldn't say getting better, but some of the stress was alleviating as I tried to not have such a negative outlook on everything. On the other hand, I'd have these moments where I just couldn't breathe because everything would just hit me at once and I'd feel like breaking down because this whole thing was just wearing me down.

And then at other times, I'd block out everything altogether and just focus on meaningless, harmless subjects. Like now.

I continued to chew in silence. I could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere, backstage probably.

And I didn't try to equate that to the time I was running out of.

I didn't, I swear.

A piece of bread lodged itself into my throat, so I quickly grabbed my water bottle and chased it down with a large drink of water. I was too busy trying not to choke to death to hear the door to the theater open.

I coughed roughly and took some more water.

"Tori?"

I froze at the sound of the voice and the open water bottle slipped from my hand and splashed all over my legs.

The theater door closed as they spoke again.

"Are you okay?"

Every word stabbed me through the core.

Yeah, I'm just freaking peachy.


Author's Note: Sorry it's short.

Thank you for the alerts/favorites. Reviews greatly appreciated.

-pp.