Sorry this is a few days late! I was almost done with it on Saturday night, but then I couldn't finish it until tonight, sorry! THANKS SO MUCH for the reviews! I wasn't sure how many I'd get since I didn't update for like forever! :)

Oh, and I forgot to mention, this story will contain all 17 of Trina's Reasons, so I have to space out the main character's ones! :)

Disclaimer: No soy dueño de nada. Yup, I said it in Spanish, courtesy of Google Translate.

Warning: This story is rated T for a reason! It's nothing in detail, but there will be a theme of high T things going on in Trina's life..

Enjoy!

Waking up, Tori rubbed her crusty eyes. What had happened?, she wondered, looking down to see that she was on the couch. For a split second she was okay, almost happy, until the crushing weight of what had happened to her sister fell upon her shoulders again. She had spent all night crying and watching that video again and again and again and again. Eventually she had asked Andre to hide it so she wouldn't play it anymore and fallen asleep somehow.

Standing, she headed to the bathroom, intent on taking a shower. However, as she gazed down at the small sink in her bathroom, she saw something was on it. Squinting, she picked it up. It was a tape! Underneath it was a tape player thingy, whatever those were called, and her eyes widened. Trina!

In a few minutes, at least, that's what it had felt like to her, the rest of the gang was here, she had fully woken up, and she played the tape.

"Remember how I mentioned I built up my confidence the summer before my sophomore year? Do you know why? It had something to do with a little peeping tom. Yes, this reason is Mr. Busey, our creepy neighbor. But, really, my first encounter with him isn't the one that was particularly bad. It was the meetings that came after it that got a little…freaky.

The first time I saw him, he had just moved here, and it was in late May. Holly forced me to bring something to him, so I reluctantly made some kind of cake, which turned out lopsided and burnt, and brought it over to him. It took him a while to open the door, and I heard a lot of fumbling around, but I ignored it and when he finally opened the door, he was all smiles. He invited me inside, and when I looked around, all that was there were boxes upon boxes labeled by state. We talked, him forcing down my awful cake, and by the end of my visit I rather liked him. It was only much later when I found out he wasn't anything like what I thought he was.

It was July 20th, one of the hottest days of summer… You were away, Tori, so you wouldn't remember it, but I was sweating buckets. By the time it was 12 o' clock, it was 106 degrees and rising. David had gone to work that day, his nice air conditioned workspace, and Holly was as a spa retreat for the week. I was all alone, and I got into my bikini and went into the pool in the backyard, trying to cool off. I heard a rustle, and then, a thump. After that I saw the head of Mr. Busey pop out from one of the bushes. It was kind of weird, and I pretended not to notice him staring at me, or rather, at my chest. I closed my eyes, thinking he would go away, and I must've fallen asleep, because when I woke up, it was evening and my skin was all shriveled up from the water. I looked around, but, thank goodness, Mr. Busey had disappeared.

I went to visit him the next day or two. He seemed surprised to see me, because he wasn't wearing a shirt and his grey hair was sticking up all over his head. He let me in, of course, and went to go put on a shirt, hurriedly warning me not to look in one of the rooms, one that was locked with a shiny brass key hanging on a nail next to it. I took this opportunity to look around, not finding anything suspicious. The only weird thing I saw was a pile of woman's clothes in a corner, but I figured it was his niece's or something. He took a while to get ready, and I got so curious, I opened the locked door. I wasn't expecting much, maybe an expensive piece of art or something, but what I saw was much weirder. Photographs lined the floors, the ledges, and the table. They were on every surface imaginable. And they were all of women. Some looked like they were no older than 13, while other girls seemed past 40. There were only about 40 different people in total, each of them having their own corner filled with pictures of them. I wanted to look more closely, but I heard Mr. Busey banging down the steps and ran out, locking the door and sitting down on the living room couch, pretending to inspect a painting on one of the walls. I'm lucky he was so slow, otherwise I would've been caught for sure, and who knows what would've happened! He was nothing shy of a gentleman, being kind and courteous and a good host. I relaxed, and after an hour of talking, I ventured back home.

After another few days, I received a tape in the mail. I wasn't sure who it was from, I found that out later, but I put it into the DVR anyway. What I saw was surprising. It was showing me my house, from a vantage point not far away. My room was in the basement back then, and there was a window near the top of it where you could peer into my room. It was nighttime, and the camera had some kind of glow in the dark effect. It showed the window, or rather, a person crouched near that window. Mr. Busey was spying on me. It was a long window, and as the camera zoomed in, I could see myself dancing crazily inside my room. There was no identifiable sound, but I must've heard something, because I turned and my mouth opened. I shut the music off and started to change. And Mr. Busey kept on watching, that creeper. While I thought it was creepy, I tried to ignore it, because what would confroonting an old man do? Who would believe me anyway? But I found out that wasn't the only time, either. I recieved tapes every Tuesday at 4 pm, showing footage of him following or watching me everwhere I went. Mr. Busey came and watched me almost every night, for hours on end, doing whatever. Sometimes, he even looked through the bathroom window, staring at me showering. I never noticed him then, but the tapes showed it, and I couldn't help but wonder why someone was filming this.

And, as sick as it was, it got me kind of confident. I was happy that someone thought I was pretty enough, interesting enough, to watch constantly, and I didn't stop him until I visited his house another day. Again, he went upstairs for a while, and I went back into the locked room. It was pretty much the same, but with one big difference. I was there, too. Right in front of me, on one of those huge picture frames, was me, and surrounding it, were other pictures of me. Pictures of me in my bikini, of me in the kitchen, of me dancing. And suddenly I understood what all of these pictures were. They were of all of the people he had spied on, practically stalked, and now I was one of them.

I was scared. Heck, I was terrified. Was he going to try to rape me? Had he ever drugged me? Why, why was he doing this? I left before he came back downstairs. I left, before he got a chance to 'explain'. I left, and I never went back again. I begged Mom and Dad to switch rooms with me, so they could get the large, scary, basement with possible spiders in it while I got the room next to Tori's, the warm one with the fireplace.

I think Mr. Busey knew I saw it, because I dropped the key on the floor of his kitchen, because I left so suddenly, and because I switched rooms. Sometimes I wondered how many others found out too. And the ones who never knew they were being watched constantly and lived their lives in blissful ignorance until he got bored and moved on.

It all kind of reminded me of a story I heard once, about Mr. Bluebeard and his string of wives who all disappeared after they unlocked the door he specifically told them not to go in. How they saw all of the dead bodies of the wives before him and how he'd kill them too. It sends shivers down your spine, doesn't it?

You still might not understand why Mr. Busey's on this list. He was kind of creepy, heck, that word seems to define him, but he didn't hurt me, and I even became confident because of him. Right? Wrong. He did try to hurt me one night, and someone else watched him do it. Consider this a warning to you, Mr. Busey, because if you ever spy on some girl ever again, I'll have you arrested. Wonder how? I still have the tapes of you spying on me, and I'm sure it wouldn't look too good if I got my contact to hand this in too, would it now? So back off, you sick creep!"

And the tape was over, leaving six shocked people in silence.

So, what did you think? It definitely got a little wacko in a few places, but I really wanted to do this theme, and I hope I didn't make this too disappointing!

Baylee- Well, you never know! I mean, I never explicitly said Trina was dead... She could've wimped out and faked the body on the tracks! ;)

Lastly, do any of you have any suggestions about any of the reasons/people? I'm using most of the main characters, including Sinjin, Lane, Sikowitz, the gang, Burf (possibly), Helen, Trina's parents...etc. But if you really want someone to be included, mention it! :)