Disclaimer: None of this is mine.
Chapter One: Explanation
She was a pedophile, plain and simple. Okay, maybe not so plain, and maybe not so simple, but she was. Day in and day out, she babysat a boy she claimed to hate, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, she had more love for him than she had for her younger sister, the wretched little brat she was.
Perhaps the reason she disliked her had not do with spite, but more with jealousy. She was six years his senior, she shouldn't be looking at him like that. Tootie had all the license in the world, considering she was his age. No matter how creepy he might think she was, she still stood a better shot than her.
Even though she was twenty one, she still babysat him. It was ironic- she'd shoot down a date (if she got them, which were rare), over seeing him any day of the week. At this point, although she was milking the Turners, they no longer mattered. Seeing him, hearing his voice, being with him, these were all the things that mattered.
Shaking her long red hair, which had already grown past her waist, she prepared herself for another night of torture. No one ever asked why she tortured him more than anyone else. They assumed it was because of baseless hatred. She was making an example of him…that's what they thought. Fools, hopeless, hopeless fools.
Clenching her eyes shut, she imagined him doing menial chores while she watched. He never knew it, but she was always watching. She heard everything he said about her and more.
Sometimes, at night, she lay awake and replayed every exchange they'd had, only with a different outcome. She imagined him scorning Tootie and rebuffing Trixie to fall for her. It grew and grew in her head, becoming an obsession. She'd get rid of them…
Then she'd shake her head like she'd just done and question how much of her sanity she still possessed. Clearly it couldn't be much, if she was in love with Timmy Turner. In fact, she'd been in love with him since he was ten years old…another chilling fact. She tried not to think about that particular too much, lest she damn herself further.
Things had started disappearing from Tootie's shrine, much to her distress. Tokens of her affection had reached Vicky's room and disappeared in places she'd never look. Well, she'd have to thank her for giving them to her, whenever she took permanent leave of her senses.
Tonight, the Turners were going out for another night Vicky had paid for. Most of the tickets they mysteriously received in the mail or at work were actually things she'd purchased for them. Anything to get them out and her in. After all, they trusted her to watch their precious gift from above.
And how precious he is, Vicky thought, finalizing the amount of torture she'd put him through tonight. Hey, you torture the ones you love, right? And Timmy was the fairest of them all.
This was why she'd never really gotten a boyfriend. Every time she'd been close, she pictured Timmy in their stead and things steadily declined from there. Her date would end up leaving and she'd berate herself for being so stupid as to picture them together. He'd never go for her.
Tightly her fingers wrapped around a picture of Timmy she'd acquired through a brief jaunt in her sister's room. Millions of pictures had been accrued after years of stalking him, surely she wouldn't miss just one? And, besides, she didn't really want to fight her for it, did she? She'd lose…and badly.
Glancing at the clock told her the Turners were leaving soon, so it was time for her to step in. What would they do without her? (Probably go out less and have a happier child…)
Deciding to keep her hair down, she shouldered her 'smiley face bag' and started out, only the twerpette jumped in her way. It seemed through some stroke of incredibly bad luck, she'd found out she was babysitting today and she wanted to talk to Timmy. Over her dead body was the usual sentiment, but Tootie was persistently annoying.
Overpowering anger seized her frame and she contemplating striking the twit where she stood. Perhaps a good sock to the face would quiet her for good. Timmy was hers, the foolish girl. He'd never like her.
He'll never like you either, if you keep acting like this, the little voice in her head reminded her and, as usual, she told it to shut up before she pounded the daylights out of it. She didn't need a conscience, she didn't need a voice in the back of her head, she just needed to be in a room alone with him.
To her shock (and displeasure), Tootie clamped onto one of her legs and looked up at her pleadingly. Tears shone in her eyes, but she just scoffed. She had to learn to be lonely and miserable, because if she thought she was going to get anywhere near him, she would be.
"Let go, mistake!" Vicky roared, slamming her into a wall. Again, Tootie wailed, but she let go. No one was stupid enough to hold onto someone who bashed you into a wall, no matter who it was.
In a ball, she gazed up at her and doubtlessly wondered how someone she was related to could hate her so much. The simple answer she was she was insufferably jealous, but she wasn't going to say that. Instead, she kicked her again before she fled the scene.
Good riddance to bad rubbish, that's what she said. Tootie was a mistake, as far as she was concerned. Little brat should have never been born; she was a drain on society.
Concentrating on that, she slammed the door shut and locked it, as though that would somehow keep Tootie out of Timmy's house. It hadn't before, and it wasn't going to, but she knew after being treated like that, she'd be up in her room wailing instead of down here, bugging her. It suited both of them just fine. Well, probably not Tootie, but she could care less about her.
Onto the Turner's…and the boy who had stolen her heart.