Missing
Chapter Two: Through Walls
It took a few minutes before Timmy was able to stand on his own two feet with out help. Vicky seemed amused by his struggle for balance, but ultimately began walking when she was sure he had regained some posture.
"And how are we going to travel through time?" the young boy inquired timidly as they climbed a high natural stone stair case that spiraled upward.
"The same way you have, only not as dorky. I mean a scooter? How lame is that?" She laughed to herself until they reached the top of the stairs. She stretched a long finger out and slid it across the ceiling. That vibrating noise from before filled Timmy's head again as the stone seemed to melt away, leaving a hole just barely large enough for either of them to fit. Vicky went through first, and then tugged on the leash to signal for Timmy to follow.
This had led them into an ancient labyrinth of a dark cave, wide and spacious to behold, however not much different from the room Timmy had been chained up in, save its size and complexity. It was still new to him though, he did not recognize the sight of it, or the still, damp smell which filled his nostrils. Not really water on stone, but at the same time it could have been. To think that if it was water angered him, what with it being so close when he had needed it so appallingly.
"Where are we?" Timmy asked aloud before realizing it was a stupid question for Vicky.
"Yeah, like I would tell you that. Just keep quiet, he should be here soon."
"Wh- I mean, ack!" She had pulled on his choker so hard that he dropped to his knees. It was a gurgled pain, a constricting pain. But he managed through the worst until the leash decided it was safe released him.
They waited for a long time, though he had not known how long. Vicky crossed her arms and began tapping her foot impatiently, but still nothing happened just the same. Then, all of a sudden, a proverbial poof emanated from the sunken air. Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda were floating in front of them, looking as dark and somewhat cute as ever.
"Ah, Victoria, my dear girl, so sorry that we are late for our pre-engagement, the front lines needed tip-top preparation and such."
"Yeeaaah!" Anti-Wanda howled, a massive goofy grin exposing her jagged rows of teeth, "'dem boys be all sorts of gung ho don't 'cha know? It be smellin' like war! Hoooweee!"
Timmy would have found this funny if his situation wasn't so dire.
"Ah ha!" Anti-Cosmo released, now noticing who Timmy was for the first time, "So you did decide to let him live? My, my, how honorable of you my dear godchild, oh but it is fitting, what with regaining your memories after all." The small blue man flew over to Timmy's face to better examine him, "I say, you do ever so have a way with children, do you not? Ah, but this is grand! I could not have done it better myself. So then, taking him out for a walk? A midnight stroll?"
"Something like that," Vicky admitted, "I have a few demands to make before I can get started though, that's why I called you down here."
"Oh my sweet Victoria, why of course! Of course! Demand away."
"First off, I demand that Timmy here be well nourished."
Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda together raised their dark blue wands and granted Vicky's wish with a stiff white glow. Immediately Timmy could feel life return to his tired limbs and the stabs of hunger fade away. He gave Vicky a questionable look but decided it was probably better not to ask what she was planning.
"Next I demand to have the same time traveling belt which I once owned in my stolen future."
Again the Anti-fairies waved their wands, producing that white glow, and around Vicky's waist materialized the belt that Timmy had once seen his future self wear.
"Now I demand for this belt to have the abilities as follows: the ability to bring at least two people back and forth through time even if only one person wears it, the ability to completely mask the travelers' presence from all other life forms in whichever time the wearer decides to travel, the ability to let the wearer and their companion or companions pass through all matter of objects if so desired, and to be both indestructible and everlasting." To which her fairies obeyed and grated this wish too, making both their wands on the belt glow momentarily.
"And finally," the domineering she-devil concluded, "I demand to have full knowledge pertaining to this belt, including but not limited to how to operate it, how it works, how to repair it if it were ever to be damaged, and how to keep complete control over it." This too was granted. "You see twerp?" Vicky rounded on Timmy, "Adults can make way better wishes than kids ever could. We think things through!"
"Right you are, right you are, my darling," the webbed winged fiend ejected, "Will that be all of our services you require today?"
"Yeah, I think so," Vicky waved off, "I'll take care of the rest from here; you guys go tend to your troops or whatever."
"Yeeeehaaaaa! Da troops be awaitin'!" and with that Anti-Wanda poofed out of Timmy's view. However, Anti-Cosmo still lingered.
"A word to the wise, Victoria, though be it beyond myself to judge the ways humans go about their business, I still implore you not to expect your methods to achieve their end goals satisfactorily, not being the way they are now."
"I heard you the first time," the redhead huffed, "and like I said back then, I'll take it into consideration. Now go prepare your troops, and don't worry about me or him anymore."
"Very well, cheerio good chaps!" then it was Anti-Cosmo's turn to spin and poof on the spot into the nothingness.
"These fairies, they really take their role as godparents seriously, don't they?" Vicky asked aloud, though not seeming to necessarily expect a response.
The young Turner child did not say anything. He was observing, taking everything he could in. War was about to be fought between the two worlds of the fairies, which probably meant that Cosmo and Wanda would be caught up in it, or at the very least somehow affected. Was he really so important that Anti-Cosmo felt he had to be taken care of for his plans to succeed? Did that in turn mean his rescue efforts, if any existed, would continue? Or even grow stronger? He could only hope. Yes, hold onto hope, never lose it, and never let it waver even in the slightest. It was, after all, all he truly had left.
"Stop staring into space, twerp!" The older girl shouted, sending an echo to bounce off the stone walls for what felt like miles, while simultaneously yanking on his living chain leash to pull him closer. "We're about to leave, so pay close attention. I've never shown what I'm about to show you to anyone, or even told anyone, but you have to understand it to understand me."
"And can I ask why me?" Timmy honestly wanted to know, "I mean, besides you thinking that my alternate future self was actually your friend?"
He knew it was coming before he even finished his question; a quick succession of strikes to his face landing harder and with more emotion than the last, all continuing until he fell to his hands and knees, begging for mercy. She gave it to him, but not with out a reason.
"Why do you have to be so difficult? I'm trying to show you who I am and all you are giving me is resistance! If this continues I'll just have to make your punishments worse, dumb ass! And that isn't a threat! It's what will happen! So behave and obey!" She kicked him in the stomach as hard as she could, causing him to lift slightly into the air and land on his side. Stars filled his vision, flashes of translucent colors over the black of his closed eyelids flared one way or another. Holding onto the pained area with difficulty in breathing he managed to say sorry, but to him they were only words.
"Now get up and get over here, unless you want to get to know my boots better."
He listened, though he had to crawl his way over due to the pain. Vicky placed one of her slender hands on top of his head once he reached her. He thought it strange that such a gentle, deceptively fragile thing could cause him so much unwanted hurting. Although what truly wore down on his brain was that that same hand could also take away any pain he was feeling. It was pleasantly cool to the touch when he was caressed by it, a relief from the stinging it caused. And it had also held him up while giving him the water he was in such desperate need of. Oh she was certainly cruel indeed, and most definitely insane.
Vicky had been tweaking adjustments on her new belt with her free hand, the one not on Timmy's head while holding his leash by the wrist, once he had arrived by her feet. "You better hold on," she warned him, "Or else it won't be pleasant."
Hold on? Him? Yeah right! He had done his fair share of time traveling, and he didn't have to hold onto anyone then, so why would he now? But looking up into her face with this response in mind had told him all he needed to know: obey, or get beaten. With a regretful sound issuing from his throat he wrapped his arms around her thighs, and not wanting to admit how well toned they felt beneath her black skin tight jeans. Of course she was athletically active, he knew this. She dominated the town as the best skateboarder again, shredded away all the good powdered snow on Mount Dimsdale with her top of the line snowboard, and crashed all the competition when she would decide to surf. One would think with all of these outlets she would be a happier person, but it only seemed to fuel her arrogance and cruelty. Timmy remembered overhearing phone calls of shops or brands wanting to sponsor her, but she never seemed to like the offered prices, or something.
The world rushed away from them. Spread out in all directions until he could see it no more. The floor seemed to have left his feet and knees, but he and Vicky were still well planted. Even his own body felt stretched out to capacity. Ah, he knew this feeling, the drawn out sense of time travel. It occurred to him that he could perhaps let go of her during this interval, as images, textures, and smells of the past began rushing by all of his senses. But she had a leash on him, canceling all real hope of his escaping her right then and there. But where was then and there? It would have been stupid; he might have been flung into a time he couldn't get out of. Either way he didn't have long to think on this new endeavor, for he could feel the world coming back into a coherent version of its self once more. The images were slowing down, halting around them, until finally it all stopped. No more rushing, nor being suspended on top of solid air.
He looked about, took in his surroundings. It was Dimsdale! The sun was shining, warming his body with its dazzling light! He heard the familiar birds chirping, sprinklers spraying, and cars engines humming about. Timmy released Vicky's legs and stood to his feet, all pain from before either gone or forgotten. He noticed he was up to about shoulder level with her now. Give him a few more years to finish growing and he might even pass her up. The idea of him being taller than her filled him with some sort of excessive pride, a realistic prospect to look forward to. Then he noticed something was different. There were fewer houses than he remembered, and all the cars that he could see were much older then what he left behind. Ah, but of course, he had traveled back in time. He knew it was back, and not forward, since what he had felt when he trekked through the years were more like memories than premonitions.
"Care to venture a guess as to when and where we are?" Vicky proposed to the enthusiastic growing young boy.
"Uh," he really didn't like her tone of voice; there was something adrift in it, "Dimsdale, that's for sure, but… it looks like the eighties, I guess."
"The eighties?!" the young woman sounded offended, "How old do you think I am? No, dumb ass, try the early nineties; nineteen-ninety-two, to be exact."
"A year before I was born? Timmy wondered aloud.
"What? Oh yeah, it would be, huh? Anyway, that's not really important. Why don't you take a look whose lawn we're on," it was a statement, not a question.
He did as he was told, not particularly feeling up for another round of beatings. It took him a minute before realizing the answer; this was Vicky's home. Sure, the yard looked completely different and there was a car he didn't recognize parked in the driveway, but essentially it was the same place he hated with so much of his little heart.
"So…" he started slowly, cautious not to set off Vicky's proneness to violence, "We're at your place, right?"
"Bingo! Let's take a look inside, what do you say?"
"Do I get a choice?" why did he have to say stupid things that he knew would probably get him punished?
"Ha! I'll let that slide, but only because it was actually kinda funny. But no, you don't, so come on. Get a choice? Don't make me laugh…" They set off toward the front door at a brisk pace. Instinctively the boy slowed his footfalls when reaching the step up, but the redhead kept moving normally. She had to yank him along with her. He didn't see what happened because the pain coming from his choker had caused his eyes to slam shut. When he finished coughing and sputtering he slowly opened his watering eyes again, though now they were inside the household.
"What?" he managed to say with his score throat.
"Weren't you paying attention earlier? We can pass through any barrier, which includes walls and doors. Now I want you to pay close attention. And if you don't I'll know because this leash will tell me. Got it?"
"Um, yeah… I understand."
"Good boy," she patted him on the head gently, "you keep up that attitude and you won't have to be beaten."
Timmy could hear voices. A pair of adults were talking in some other place with in these all too familiar walls, and not too far off either. Vicky flounced the boy toward the conversation, eager to find out exactly what they were speaking about it seemed. It occurred to him that perhaps this was the first time his captor had time traveled on her own accord. She seemed to marvel when she could at all the differences that she took for granted as a child. Timmy had noticed the replaced items too, but he was sure the look in his eyes were nothing like the reminisce she beheld. A facial feature he had lost over years of jumping the time line.
They arrived in the Valentine's kitchen, much in the same shape he had always known it to posses, but the appliances were older models, the tiles had a different design, and the counters and cupboards were made of a cheaper, less beautiful wood with a low-priced finish. The kitchen in the present all seemed to be a part of a set, this version was more of a sloppy mish mash of hand-me-downs and already-been installments. At the table, one that had to be at least ten years old and could never hope of matching the contemptible cupboards, sat two fire red haired adults. He knew them instantly, Vicky's parents. He had forgotten that Vicky had a different mother than Tootie. But then again it was only by accident that he had found out, an extra bonus for the records and accounts of his own time traveling adventures. Nicky, if he remembered her name correctly. She was the spitting image of her daughter… or should he have said her daughter was the spitting image of her? Pink eyes, green blazer, and hair that she had straitened, cut shorter, and combed down; the typical business woman of the nineties.
Her father appeared practically the same as he did in the present, only now with less lines etched into his face. His name escaped Timmy, but then again he had only ever known him at Tootie and Vicky's father. He seemed just as on edge as ever, though obviously much less stressed. The captive had taken notice in his guide's fixation on her own mother when the man began to speak again.
"So everything looks to be in order, honey, perfect for our- I mean," he corrected himself, "your big night."
"And Vicky?" the mother asked, obviously caring more for her own little girl than her weak looking husband, "What have you done for her?"
"Oh, yes, a babysitter! Of course I have one ready; he should be here in a few hours, but still with plenty of time for you to check him out, of course. And, uh, so we- I mean, so you can tell him all the rules, of cour-"
"Where did you get his recommendation?!" Nicky just about snarled, cutting her husband off in a way that shown there was little to no respect for the poor man.
He winced, a reaction Timmy was all too familiar with. God, they even had the same voice, though Vicky's seemed more… youthful, perhaps? Yes, Nicky's voice was that of a woman's, while her daughter still played the teenager.
"Well," the blue eyed man told her calmly, "he's the son of a coworker. He has watched over a lot of children, many of them the kids of others from the office… he, uh-"
"A boy? Does he come highly recommended?" his demanding wife interjected. What a bitch. Timmy knew where his babysitter got it all from.
"Oh, yes, of course! In fact it seems not once has a child ever complained about him."
"We'll see about that…" the woman leaned back in her chair, relaxing some, "If I approve of him then for the love of hell Vicky better too, or I'm not leaving her alone with him."
"But, sweet heart, the tickets they-"
"I said," the woman in her thirties repeated through gritted teeth, eyes closed dangerously, "Vicky better like him too, or else I'm not going, understand?"
"Oh, uh, yes. Yes of course."
"Good."
Vicky laughed. A full, whole black hearted laugh. This had startled Timmy and he almost wanted to shoos her, least her parents notice their presence. Then he remembered that no one could sense they were there.
"Isn't she great? God I miss her." Her eyes fell on the boy, excepting an answer, "Well? Isn't she?" The couple was still talking, but Vicky's voice demanded his attention now.
"So… we came back in time to see your, um, your wonderful mother?" He actually didn't feel she was wonderful at all, though definitely less cruel than her daughter.
She hit him upside the head, "Don't placate me like that! If you don't agree then tell me, don't fucking lie!"
"Oh! So I could get hit for that too? Yeah that soun-Gahck!"
She had pulled hard on his leash, chocking him in a flash once more and bringing him to his knees, hard. Timmy clawed at the choker feverously, wanting nothing more desperately than to breathe freely again. His eyes watered and bulged. The restriction, the burning, it was all pain he could not bear. Finally, when he was screaming bloody murder in his head yet only able to squeeze a little air out of his nose, she released him. The first gulps of air hurt, but soon the relief he felt drowned away that spoilt sensation.
"And I definitely don't want any fucking back talk either, you understand me?"
I took him a moment to catch his breath, yet when he did he found himself apologizing for his insolence. Though it didn't feel like him saying it all, more like he was watching himself run on some sort of survivor mode auto pilot. He was in control of his actions, of course, yet it just felt so weird.
Vicky tugged him about the house, examining all the differences that its furnishings beheld. She would comment on this and that, these and those, and only when he was certain that she was expecting an answer back did Timmy venture a response, hoping to whatever divine power that might be out there that his reply was the right one. After being hit a few times for giving up unbelievables, the boy soon learned that he could fool himself into supposing that his answers had truth to them, which sufficed enough for his kidnapper. It wasn't exactly hard either, this considering in the validity of a lie, especially when he weighed the options: trust in the fraud or get beaten.
"Come on," she ordered her new pet, "we're going to my room." It was located in the same place as its present self, first door to the right on the upstairs landing. This time Timmy was expecting to walk through the walls as they did, so he didn't miss the strange sensation of passing through solid matter. Its rather difficult to explain, unless one suspects the action to happen one misses it entirely. But when you do expect it you notice how fuzzy your body becomes for a fraction of a second, and how much less dense you feel entirely.
"I bet you recognize her," Vicky pointed out a small red headed child playing with a pair of floppy dolls on the ground, wearing a green sun dress over her delicate frame and a big purple bow in her hair, "even if the image you conjured up was because you were going to bullying." She socked him hard in the back of the head. He cussed a few idiocies but ultimately didn't fire anything back at her. He was being clever in his own mind; don't give her a reason and she wouldn't hit him as much.
"I'm sorry, Vicky," Timmy managed to come up with in response, "but then you remember that I apologized with as much fairy magic as I could ask for too, right?" His strategy, he was thinking, was to now show her that he was a good person, especially to her, and she didn't need to have him locked up to be a friend. It didn't just come to him on the spot though, but instead an idea that began forming when they first entered the house of the past.
"More out of guilt than love, twerp," the older girl replied, "Besides, this girl has no memories of you, because you have not been born yet. Nor has my sister, though that asshole father of mine will be onto that endeavor soon enough, cheating bastard." She spat on the ground, almost hitting her old bed.
The little Vicky, one who was still a happy child with not a care in the world, had begun to stand up and walked strait toward Timmy. Habit made him move out of her way only to be laughed at by the present Vicky. He knew why a moment later, as the little red haired child dug through a toy chest in the closet; the younger one would have passed right through him without hindrance or notice. They watched her playing, Timmy not wanting to question the reason for an hour's time spent on the child's action, for obvious consequences.
Eventually a doorbell rang, causing the smaller Vicky to put down her toys and exit the room. Timmy understood to follow as his leash holder began trailing the little one's foot steps to the safety railing over looking the entrance on the house. Younger Vicky was on her knees, holding onto the rail's support columns with her tiny hands while spying at the cause of the ring. Her mother had answered the door and was met with the sight of a teenage boy, younger than Vicky was now, but still rather powerful looking. He had strait black hair and wore a denim jacket with matching pants, all styled in a fashionable nineties sense.
The Vicky Timmy was latched to inhaled sharply, apparently the sight of this guy made her uneasy. Was she perhaps frightened of the high schooler? He couldn't tell either way now, though, because he face had become an unreadable blank slate.
"Hello Miss, you must be Vicky's mother," greeted the young man with an outstretched hand. He had a confidence befitting his attire, but seemed to understand not to assume entrance was permitted just yet for him, "I'm Rob," he maintained as the woman returned the hand gesture, "Mister Valentine said he would like to hire my babysitting services for tonight. May I come in?"
As far as Timmy could tell this guy was alright. Hell, he would have much rather there be a person like that around to baby sit instead of what he was forced to deal with for years.
"Fucker!" Vicky hissed under her breath, "Look at how he smooth talked his way into my mother's acceptance. You can already tell she likes him."
"Is there something wrong with him?" Timmy inquired, not really seeing a problem.
The young woman rounded on the boy. For a moment he tensed up, preparing for an endless barrage of blows to befall onto his small body… but they didn't come. Her face had become almost unbearably horrendous, he could swear she was either about to scream, hit him, both, or neither and just fall away into drowning the world with her tears. She quickly turned away from him and stomped down the stairs instead, causing the lad to be dragged along by his neck.
They followed Vicky's mother into the kitchen again. Here it was confirmed that Rob was a perfectly alright fellow (with out compliment to her husband, Timmy noted) and all that was needed was for Vicky to approve of him too, to which the present Vicky growled. Soon little Vicky was called downstairs and she filled the kitchen with her bright happy energy once she entered. It wasn't long until Nicky approved of the way the two interacted and was giving Rob a list of contact numbers and Vicky's alloweds and not alloweds. Some of these the child red head complained about, only to get a wag of her mother's disapproving finger. Once all rules were laid down Mr. and Mrs. Valentine announced their departure as they kissed their daughter and headed out the door. The present Vicky was shivering every so often.
"Why don't we go upstairs and you can show me your favorite toys?" Rob asked of Vicky's younger self in a polite and gentle voice meant just for children.
"Okay!" the little girl agreed all too exuberantly before running upstairs to show the way. Rob made sure to lock the front door nice and tight. His face had become slightly sullen, Timmy didn't understand why though.
They now took to tracking after Rob as he ascended the staircase and into Vicky's room. They stepped inside and planted themselves against a wall before the young man had taken to closing this door as well, not like the barrier would have made a difference to the time traveling duo anyway.
"So," Rob began calmly, though there was something a little different in his voice now that Timmy couldn't quite put his finger on, "which toy is your favorite?"
"This one!" little Vicky announced as she lifted up a male figurine with blonde hair, "His name is Stanly and he's manly." The small girl giggled then, which was weird and wonderful to listen to for Timmy, for he had never heard the Vicky he had known ever giggle before. Such an alien sound it was.
"I see," said Rob as he took the doll in his hand, "and who might be his favorite?"
"Her!" little Vicky picked up another doll, this one a female with true red hair, "She's his wife. Her name is Lala!"
"I see," Rob repeated, then snatched this doll out of little Vicky's small hands too roughly for Timmy's liking, "Then she does whatever he says, right?"
"No! Lala is the boss, like Mommy! She-"
Little Vicky was cut short when Rob popped the head off of Lala with his thumb, shooting it across the room with ease, "Oh, looks like Stanly didn't like that. Lala should have done what she was told."
It happened too quickly. Little Vicky began to scream. Rob tossed the dolls over his shoulder landing about Timmy's feet, the young boy's mouth dropping open in shock all the while. Then the older boy covered Vicky's mouth and shoved her onto her bed. He bent over her and began talking so quietly that Timmy almost couldn't hear what was being said.
"Now you listen to me," he hissed in his same calm and deliberate voice, "If you don't behave then I'm going to do to you what Stanly did to Lala. And if you tell anyone then I'll not only do that to you, but your mommy and daddy too, understand?"
Little Vicky began crying in response, but Timmy was still able to see her head nod a few times. Seeing Rob begin to take off the child's clothing, however, was too much for the leashed captive to bear and he turned away from the sight of the crime.
"I don't want to see this anymore!" Timmy screamed, "Why are you showing me this?!"
"Because you need to know," the adult Vicky had said with little emotion.
"I don't want to know! No! I don't want to hear it either! Oh god…" the boy covered his ears with his hands and slammed his eyes shut, repeating, "No, no, no," over and over again. He could still hear it though. Hear the wet sounds as Rob violated little Vicky's innocent body. Hear the high school teen's deep disgusting breaths overflowing with a sick panting. And the crying, oh dear god Vicky's crying.
"There is no use trying to ignore it, Timmy," the older Vicky told him matter-of-factly, "Even if you close your eyes you will see it in your mind. If you block your ears then you will hear it through out your head. I know because I demanded this to be so, for this very moment," and what she said was true, no matter how hard he tried to not pay heed to this awful scene it just wouldn't go away.
"Why do I need to know this?!" the burnet turned toward his captor, merely to see tears flowing down her ruined face. He too looked away from this image. He didn't need to feel bad for Vicky now, of all times. It sucked, yes. Sucked more than anything can suck for anyone, but if it was so horrible then why relive it? Why make others live it, even if it was Vicky?
"Because you have to understand
how I feel… Why I feel the way I do," he should have known she
wasn't going to make sense; she had lost her mind, of course.
God
damn it! He could still hear and see Rob molesting the child, making
Timmy want to vomit violently.
"If you wanted to show me this then you didn't have to kidnap me, Vicky, you could have just told me-" he was abruptly cut off by her sharp yanking on his leash, sending him to his knees in pain. Hell, even when he closed his eyes in pain he could still see the revulsion taking place.
"Don't you try to take advantage of my emotional state to get out of this!" His subjugator ridiculed, "It won't work! Ugh… it's just about over now. Funny, it always seemed so much longer in my head. Guess that is what happens when fear grips you."
She was right. Rob came to a climax, cleaned himself off, and told little Vicky to get changed back into her cloths or else he would do her harm. The young monster then just as calmly left the room as he had entered it, as if what he did had no real consequence.
"That's about it," the elder Vicky announced as she began adjusting her time belt.
Timmy noticed that the little Vicky was still naked and sobbing when the world around them began to blur, then pull itself away from their bodies. He felt the strange sensation of time and space flying beyond his control in a blur of infinite histories. Before too long it abruptly slowed down and the boy saw that he was in the dark cave again. He stood to his feet, but he still felt sick to his stomach, a cold sweat seeping into his cloths.
What was peculiar is that as Vicky opened the entrance to Timmy's cell and told him to descend before her; he did not seem have it in his spirit to argue against her. He felt tired, true, and the thought of that nice soft bed seemed more than welcoming, despite how much he would come to loath it soon. Yet he could not help but wonder if his will was beginning to break. Constant attacks resulted when he disputed anything his slave holder willed, and he was scared of them; fearful of the pain and thankful when it ended. He hated being punished for any reason, especially when it hurt.
Once he was safely secured to his two bed chains and the leash was removed, Vicky was about to take her leave when she noticed the stern expression on Timmy's face, "Why the serious look, twerp?"
"Peh, why do you think? I feel sick."
"Yeah, well, welcome to my world, everything makes me feel sick."
"I hate him!"
"Robert?" she asked.
"Yes! I can't get him doing that to her out of my mind!"
"Again, welcome to my life."
He didn't respond to this, which seemed to prompt the abuser more.
"Would you think the world would be a better place with out people like him?"
"Of course I would!"
"You know, that's how my world was. Once I had come into power I made it my first priority to monitor everyone for those traits. And if someone showed too many? Well, when I ruled the world not a single little girl was ever touched again."
By the time Timmy felt like saying something to this it was too late. She waved at him and ascended the smooth stone steps, taking with her not only the light, but also Timmy's certainty of her absolute evil.