Only Daniel is mine. Just for fun.
Icky Vicky hadn't been born so. She was actually a beautiful, happy baby. She always smiled, laughed, gurgled. Her parents worshipped her, this perfect child they'd been gifted with.
Vicky was called 'Tori' as a little girl, with her brilliant red pigtails and shining green eyes. She played tea party and house, was friends with every kid she met. She floated through life, constantly happy, and wanted for nothing.
When she was six, in kindergarten, her parents had a second child, another daughter, and life headed downhill. Swiftly and totally, Tori's life completely fell apart.
Her parents hired Daniel, a young man from down the street, to watch Tori while they spent time with the baby, while they took the baby to visit with friends and family, while they and the baby rested. Daniel appeared a kind teenager, responsible and sweet, who watched Tori for hours and got only ten dollars out of it.
Daniel stole Tori's innocence, her virginity, and her happiness. Everyday for six years Tori was given to Daniel. They'd play games—tag, hide-and-seek, tea party, and other, darker versions—they'd watch TV—The Simpsons and then other, more grown-up shows—and then Daniel would touch her face and his voice would change, and Tori became Vicky because she knew she wasn't Tori anymore.
Vicky knew she should tell her parents, knew with a sick certainty that it wasn't right, knew Daniel needed to be punished—but she was a bad girl, wasn't she? That's why her parents gave her to Daniel, why her parents spent all their time and money and love on the baby.
So, Vicky must have done something to deserve Daniel. She was a bad, nasty girl—no more dresses and ribbons and bows, no more friends and happiness—inside, she must be such a nasty child. Wasn't it time her outside reflected it?
And Vicky—such a bubbly, happy baby—became a cruel, vindictive teenager, taught by a malicious, brutal teacher. She took each lesson, strung out over six years, and finally surpassed him. She tortured her parents—who had never bothered to notice her turmoil—and her sister—who was the root cause, the reason, why Daniel ever got a hold of her—she showed them why she was someone to respect, someone to fear.
Vicky became a babysitter, but she never took the kids the way Daniel took her. She only tortured them—she'd quickly realized her parents weren't the only oblivious adults in the world.
Vicky especially delighted in making Timmy Turner miserable. He reminded her of herself, back when she was young, before the baby and Daniel. He was so innocent, so naïve, so unprepared for the world. A part of her, deep inside, wanted to coddle him, to keep him safe for as long as possible. The rest of her treated him even meaner to make up for that weakness.
She knew he hated her with a passion, with a glee unmatched by anything else he felt. Vicky wondered if he loathed her as much as she despised Daniel.
But alone in her room at night, listening to Chip Skylark, she'd weep as she remembered the days before her sister, before Daniel, before all the misery.
And listening to Chip's single "Icky Vicky," she knew she hadn't been born so.