Hi :) So I haven't watched Victorious in a while, in fact I missed the majority of the third and fourth seasons. So these characters may be off quite a bit. I apologize for that; I've been busy. I'll catch up, I promise. My writing style may be quite different, as well, since I last updated about a year and a half ago... :P


The tape ends with a buzz and a soft click, shaking me out of my thoughts with the loud silence that fills the room. I pop the first tape out of the old stereo and pop the second one in, on the side labeled '3.' Cat. What could Cat possibly do?

She was so innocent and sweet. What dark secrets could she be hiding under that innocent surface? The crackle of the tape starting and the sudden sound of Jade's voice brings me back to reality.

Cat. Oh, sweet, sweet Cat.

I know what everyone hearing this is thinking. They're thinking, "You're lying, Jade. Cat's too innocent, she doesn't deserve a spot on your tapes." If you knew her as I knew her, you would know that I'm not lying.

Cat, you had so many things going on under the surface. Your bubbly, happy personality just covered up the problems you were having at home.

I sympathize with you. I understand what you're going through.

But what you're going through didn't give you permission to take one of my secrets and throw it to anyone who asked for it to cover up your secrets.

Cat had dark secrets? We all knew that her brother was... well, a bit off, but we never suspected anything else. Leave it to Jade to get under the surface of everyone and find out their secrets. Typical Jade. I bite my lip to keep from chuckling.

If any of you are actually going to each place, check out B-45 on the map. My house.

Cat, one day you showed up at my house with a sleeping bag and a bag full of assorted oddities. I looked at you strangely and you proclaimed we were having a sleepover, then you marched right past me into my house.

I didn't stop you. I shut the front door and followed you as you climbed up the stairs, seemingly already knowing where my room was.

Cat, on that night, I told you one of my biggest secrets. Yes, I know I have a lot of secrets. Maybe that's why you felt the right to give that secret away.

I told you about my father and how he hurt me, how he abused me on a regular basis.

Your eyes went wide, and you looked frightened, but you swore to keep the confession a secret, and you nodded your agreement when I told you I would cut your heart out with my scissors if you ever told a single soul.

I have to keep from chuckling again because of the wording. Such typical Jade, it makes me miss her even more, and I suddenly long for her to be back in my arms, back at home where she belongs.

But she's gone, now an angel probably looking over me.

Or cutting Cat's heart out.

Well, there are two kinds of people.

That was before Tori took you away from me, but still, you were one of the few people who got a smile out of me.

A very, very, VERY small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Because you were frightened.

Fast-forward a few weeks. I noticed you were getting skinnier, and skinnier, and skinnier. I didn't say a word, did I? I didn't tell anyone when you told me why. I told you I wouldn't tell.

I keep my promises like a good girl.

You, on the other hand, well...

Your life was spiraling out of control. I could see that; I could see that the smile wasn't reflected in your eyes, that you looked like you might break down at every corner.

I tried to help.

You refused my help, and then what did you do?

You gave away my secret. You told everyone that my dad had been abusing me, told everyone that "I was too proud" to show the signs.

I'll never forgive you for that, Cat. I was almost pulled out of Hollywood Arts and almost put in foster homes.

When the police came to my house to see if I was telling the truth, my parents said I was just a stupid girl seeking attention.

My dad beat me twice as hard that night, left me bleeding and bruised and broken.

I didn't cry. I don't cry. Jade West never cries.

That was false; I'd seen her cry, just once, when she broke down in my arms after a particularly hard night with her father. Yes, I knew about that. But she wanted me to keep it a secret, and I didn't want to lose her, so I did.

That was the night I truly became broken.

Some people might think I was already broken; that I was twisted, sick, demented, insane.

That night was all it took for the tables to turn and for me to plunge into the dark side.

I'm not sure what to say.

Thank you?

Fuck you?

Doesn't matter, I'll be dead by the time you hear this.

She pauses, and her voice sounds breathy, weak, like she might start crying. I get an urge to hug her, but when I turn, she's not there. It startles me, and I jolt, before a wave of sadness washes over me as I remember that she's dead. She committed suicide.

Who's next on this lovely little list of people? Who will be lucky convict number four?

I hear shuffling, like she's flipping through pages, records of people who have caused her to do this and what they did, perhaps.

Robbie Shapiro. You're next.

The tape continues for a little bit, though her voice is absent, ending with a soft click.

Lucky convict number four.