*EDIT* I wasn't satisfied with Beck, Jade, and Robbie's stories so I edited them to make them longer and more detailed. I've gotten great feedback for this story but I didn't think it was quite up to par so I added in a lot. I love you all and this has official become my favorite oneshot I've ever written because of all you beautiful people. Sorry for the long note just wanted to let you know I love you! Thanks :D

Okay, I'm really tired.

I wrote this because I was bored and about halfway through writing this I realized that I have to get up and babysit tomorrow. Fantastic.

Well, this is different. I hope you all like it, and I want to apologize for it being very detailed in the beginning and not so detailed in the end. I was tired, so sue me.

Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious; Victorious owns me.

They think they've gotten rid of me.

But they're wrong.

Just when everything seems okay, when it all seems to go back to normal, I will come back into their lives.

They'll argue with me, putting up fairly good fights, but in the end they're ultimately my slaves.

You see, when it comes to Tori, Andre, Robbie, Beck, Cat, and Jade, they just don't have the will power that it takes to conquer me. For each of them, I'm different, but yet the same when it gets down to it. Eventually, I'm the one thing that wills them to get up in the morning because they know they have me.

I'm here to remind them that I'm all they have, after all.

Sure, once in awhile they'll leave me, pretending I don't exist and never have. But they know deep down that I'm very much alive and real. When I start entangling them into my seducing promises, they have no choice but to surrender.

Each of them are fools for even inviting me into their hearts in the first place.

At first, I was all fun and games. Just the thing to brighten their days and make them happier, even though I was slowly creeping in. For good.

Next, I became the only good thing about their days; basically all they wanted to do was be with me because of the way I made them feel. It still felt good for them to keep me around, though, and none of them seemed to see me as a problem.

That's when things really started to change. I was suddenly the only thing in the world that mattered, forcing myself into their thoughts and dreams, making it nearly impossible for them to concentrate on anything else. Grades slipped, ambitions shortened, friends were forgotten. Abruptly, I was the main point of their lives.

Leaving them where they are right now; caught in my grasp forever.

Tori Vega always loved fireworks; the Fourth of July had been her favorite holiday for as long as she could remember.

She was five years old when her mother lit the end of what looked like a very large match when it erupted into bright, beautiful sparks. Holly handed the sparkler carefully to her daughter, instructing her vividly on where and where not to put her hands. The little brunette girl burst into tiny fits of giggles as she began to get familiar with the foreign, beautiful firework. She began writing letters in the air, spelling her name over and over.

Tori had always watched the huge fireworks show the city put on every year, but this was the first time the little girl got to actually play with any herself. Her big sister, Trina, just rolled her eyes at the younger girl because of how childish sparklers were, but Tori didn't care. For whatever reason, she just loved the feeling of having something so dangerous in her hands. Even as a child she'd always been a goody-two-shoes, always second guessing things and never taking risks.

The fiery object made her feel happy and light inside.

At first.

When Tori was about twelve, fireworks suddenly didn't cut it anymore. Her parents had started buying her bigger and better fireworks – the big kid kind – years before, but it still wasn't enough. Besides, Fourth of July only came once a year; matches were cheap and easy to find.

For the remainder of her middle school years, the tan girl simply burned bits of paper or old novels nobody read in her house. Although, it seemed to happen quite often. Tori soon found herself spending most of her allowance money on lighters or matches, using them up fairly fast. Her parents and Trina never noticed, either, because Tori was extra careful to not set off smoke detectors and used all of her candles. When she started high school, however, is when it became bad.

Freshman year, Tori started seeing a boy named Rodger. He was nice, funny, and smelled like Old Spice body wash. He had pale skin and dark green eyes that made Tori go weak in the knees, but she cared for him more than he did for her. Like a lot of high school guys the girl had heard about, Rodger only wanted one thing. He looked straight into her eyes and told her she was the only one for him and that he wanted her to have something very special; his virginity.

She said yes.

He took her to an abandoned field somewhere outside of Los Angeles' city limits. Once there, they had sex. After it was over, Tori didn't think it was too great, and apparently neither did Rodger. He got up from the hard ground, smirked, and told the brown eyed girl they were through. After he was gone, she felt discarded. Worthless. Trashy.

She hurried dug through her purse for her phone so she could call someone to pick her up, when she spotted something. Tori's hand touched something cold and metallic feelings, so she pulled it out. An aerosol can of hairspray. A huge smile spread across the girl's face as she kept on looking through her bag until finally finding just what she was looking for; the big lighter she'd just purchased the day before.

Tori stood up and lit the lighter, spraying the hairspray at the flame. A large flame exploded from the lighter, making the half Latina jump. Thankfully the flame didn't catch onto her clothing, so she decided to try it again. This time, she pointed her newfound flamethrower at a nearby tree, forcing it to burst into flames.

Not too long after that, there was a forest fire.

Before running away from the growing flames, Tori took in the satisfaction. Look at the beautiful, frantic mess she'd made.

Before she knew it she had become the Hollywood Hills Arsonist.

For as long as anyone could remember, Andre Harris had made his talents known.

Well, most of his talents, at least.

Before the boy even took a single music class, his parents enrolled him into a summer art camp. Ever since he was little, he liked to make drawings and pictures, most of them colorful and very elaborate. The art camp was the summer before fifth grade and it really helped Andre. It was for truly gifted children and he learned so much about all different types of painting, drawing, and even sculpting. Art was his true passion, music being a close second.

Once in high school, Andre began taking art classes at a small, but nice community college in the area. He never told his friends, though, because they'd always been what you'd call…performing arts snobs. Hollywood Arts was strictly for theatre, dancing, singing, and pretty much everything except actual visual art. To anyone attending school there, visual arts were perceived as a sort of joke. That being said, Andre kept his infatuation with art a secret.

His sophomore year, he was invited to a party at one of his art friends' house. It was a college party, so naturally, Andre was nervous. Once he got there, he found his buddy Chandler to be the only person there he knew. The jumpy boy worried himself into a panic over not fitting in, when Chandler suggested he take a drink. His friend handed him a shot glass and without thinking, Andre gulped it down.

That's where it all went wrong.

Suddenly, the fifteen year old boy began seeing all sorts of different shapes and colors, and after a while, he even began to taste them. Andre felt like he was in a giant kaleidoscope as he swam through the beautiful, unfamiliar colors. Everything was mellow and chill, just the way he liked it. As the high started to wear off, Andre began to leave. On the way out, he found Chandler and asked him what was in the drink. When Chandler told him, the dark skinned boy didn't seem to mind. In fact, his friend even gave him some of the stuff free of charge.

Now, when people in his art classes ask Andre what his secret is, he's at a loss for words. He can't tell them how he really does it, so he usually just mumbles something about hard work.

In reality, Andre doesn't work at art at all anymore; he lets the monkey on his back do it for him.

Because, you know what they say; LSD makes you taste the colors.

Robbie Shapiro was thirteen years old when he got Rex.

It was his birthday the year of seventh grade and Robbie was very excited - his mother told him they would be going out to get him a new instrument. He had already started guitar lessons, which he liked, and his parents thought that it was time he learned something new as well. See, this was when the Shapiro family was happy. There were no fights, hits, or verbally abusive things said. The boy's parents were actually proud that he was so musically inclined, but that all changed on that specific shopping trip. They were walking around a mall in SoHo, trying to find the best musical instrument shop to buy from. Then, the thirteen year old boy saw it.

Lucy's Doll and Marionette Emporium, the big, pink and yellow sign read outside of a rather large store. Robbie shopped dead in his tacks and stared at all the beautiful puppets through the glass window, beckoning him. The boy excitedly exclaimed, "Mom, Dad! I want to get my present here, please can I?"

"No," Mrs. Shapiro said flatly upon taking one look at the shop. Robbie knew it was better not to argue with his mother, so he begrudgingly went into an instrument store across from the emporium. When his parents weren't looking, however, the pre-teen snuck off. He found himself back in the marionette store, looking at hundreds of different dummies that didn't seem to cut it for him. Finally, he spotted a used looking puppet sitting on a shelf all by himself marked clearance. Robbie picked the doll up and asked a nearby grumpy saleslady how much he cost.

"What, that old thing? Take it, it's free." The boy's face lit up in happiness as he ran out of the store, only to find his parents standing outside. They drug him to the car and yelled at him all the way home. Mr. and Mrs. Shapiro raved about how if Robbie didn't throw the puppet in the trash, they would know that he was truly a fag. Thinking it was a bluff, Robbie kept Rex, but sure enough, his parents called him gay every chance they got. After awhile, being called horrible names became part of his daily life.

And, oddly, he sort of liked it.


Masochism, Robbie read from a dictionary two years later, gratification achieved through humiliation and physical and verbal abuse. The awkward boy looked around the room of his Freshman English class in a panic; this definition sounded eerily relevant to something. He quickly looked at his homework sheet wrote the words down on the line next to the word. He began memorizing it for the next vocabulary test until the bell rang, when he all but bolted from the room. He went through the rest of his classes with Rex as usual, but something felt different. The Jewish boy couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he did know that it had something to do with that word.

The word masochism ate away at Robbie for the rest of the day, even when he was trying to sleep. Finally, after thinking so hard about it, he bolted up in bed. He suddenly knew why the word was so applicable; it applied to him. All his life, Robbie had been rejected. Rejected from plays, girls, his parents, and pretty much everyone in school. Using Rex, the boy found that he could control what was being said about him, at least some of the time.

When he heard hurtful words aimed at him, it felt somewhat…comforting. Robbie was so used to being called names and being made fun of that it made him want it. No, it made him crave it. His parents thought he was a disgrace, his friends all wanted nothing to do with him, and people at school actually thought his puppet was funnier than he was. Robbie never got enough attention from anyone in his life, so he figured that even though the insults were bad attention, it was still attention. Rex made that attention even more attainable, because no one ever likes the weird guy with the puppet.

Robbie made it his job to make sure that no one liked him, not even himself.

Ever since it began, Cat Valentine loved poker nights with her friends.

It started when Tori arrived at Hollywood Arts and joined the group. They were all hanging out at her house one night when they decided it was a fun idea to play some card games, thinking it'd all be in good fun by not using real money. The friends just played with little pieces of candy, but eventually Cat grew tired of just winning sugar. She liked the rush she got when she won a hand and got to collect her winnings, but it wasn't enough.

The small redhead started making shady bets with a boy at school that everyone knew was a sleaze, but she couldn't have cared less. Cat simply had to feel the rush of making a high wage on something risk, and once she finally did, it gave her an inexplicable high. She gambled on card games, sports events, TV show storylines, pretty much anything she could. It was absolute euphoria for Cat when she one a bet, but unfortunately that didn't happen often.

She quickly found herself in so much debt that she couldn't keep it straight and was soon in a lot of trouble. Her life started to fall apart in front of her eyes, leaving her with nothing. Cat had to sell her car, steal from her parents, and use her body as a mean of payment. Her friends didn't know what was going on and didn't seem to care, but she never understood why. Suddenly, no one cared about her.

No one cared that she was sixty thousand dollars in debt.

When he was nine years old, Beck Oliver's grandfather was in town. The small boy didn't see him very often, but when his father's dad came to visit, all he did was tell boring stories about the Great Depression or his childhood. Mr. Oliver was a small, quiet man who dressed only in sweater vests and khaki pants. He didn't mean all that much to Beck, so that particular visit didn't seem like anything special.

But oh, it was.

When Mr. Oliver came to visit, Beck and his family always took him out to eat. They went to Erapan, an expensive sandwich shop at the local mall. The boy was happy because after they ate, the Oliver family had planned on going to the beach. Beck loved the beach because he always had fun playing with his brother and making sandcastles, which was basically all the brothers did when they went. When Beck got older he realized that the beach always reminded him of a simpler, happier time. Anyway, the nine year old munched on some delicious macaroni and cheese - his favorite - until he heard coughing. Beck looked up and saw his grandpa wheezing and gasping, but Beck just figured he was old and just needed a cough drop or something. He was wrong.

After about thirty seconds, Beck - along with his mother, father, and brother - realized what was going on. Mr. Oliver wasn't just coughing his brains out; he was choking. Mrs. Oliver stood up and shouted, "This man is choking! Does anyone know the Heimlich?" A few precious moments passed where everyone in the restaurant looked at one another, until one man got up and made his way to the table. By now, Mr. Oliver was standing along with half of Erapan, so it was easy for the stranger to wrap his arms under the old man's arms and squeeze. He repeated this process several times, but nothing happened. Eventually, they gave up; the old man was dead.

The small child thought the whole "watching his grandfather die right in front of him" would be his first and last experience with choking, but he was wrong. You see, Beck and his older brother, Jason, were really close since they were kids. When one discovered some funny TV show or cool Splashface video, they would immediately tell the other.

One day during sophomore, though, Jason came home with something deadly.

"Beck!" Jason shouted, busting through the RV door. "Dude, you gotta check this out."

Beck arose from the spot on his bed. "What's up?" He asked, interesting.

Jason explained how he read online that choking yourself or having someone else do it for you, that is, can give you a high. It was the quickest way to get high as the lack of oxygen released endorphins into the bloodstream, but it sometimes made the choker pass out. Beck thought it was bull at first and he was honestly kind of scared. He had watched a man die in front of him what seemed like only years before from choking, did he really want to mess with something like that. The handsome boy decided, though, that high school was supposed to be all about exploration. So, why not? Beck nervously let his brother wrap his hands around his neck and ring it tightly, cutting of his breathing.

The feeling he got was like none he'd ever had.

He didn't pass out his first time, though as he did it more he passed out a couple times. It felt so good, however, that Beck couldn't find it in his heart to care. Choking himself quickly became a part of his everyday routine; the handsome boy would wake up, choke, go to school, choke, do this homework, choke, and then go to bed. It was a never ending cycle, taking over Beck's whole life.

He couldn't stop, though.

The first time Jade West had sex wasn't anything special.

Although, she presently remembers the way his beady eyes looked at her, as if she wasn't a human. She can still picture vividly the way he smelled of body odor and the disgusting meatloaf they'd had for lunch. Jade can still feel his grimy hands on her as he sweated all over the place, his grubby fingers touching her all over. The black haired girl will always remember his squeaky voice that nearly gave her a headache from just listening to him speak one word. Jade can still taste the blood that came from her bottom lip from when she bit down too hard, the pain making clamp her jaw shut. But most of all, Jade will never forget the fact that he is the one who started this whole mess that she calls her life. And she never even found out his name.

In eighth grade, a sleazy boy followed Jade into the girl's bathroom and asked her if she'd wanted to "fuck." Jade had no idea who the boy was and she honestly didn't care, because she never saw him again. Without thinking, she lifted up her short black skirt and leaned against the wall, bracing herself. It actually wasn't too bad; Jade sort of enjoyed the feeling. It hurt at first, but there was something the fourteen year old girl really liked about it.

From that day on, Jade was known as a slut. She didn't mind, though, because in all fairness, she was a slut. She had sex left and right, with guys and sometimes with girls. Jade loved the feeling of intimacy, no matter who it was with or what exactly the were doing. Because, really, it's true; sex actually is a connection, which was what the dark haired girl craved most of all. It was probably because her father left when she was a small child - although, he did return again later in Jade's life with a brand new wife and a pretend love for his daughter - and when that happened, her mother fell apart. Jade had to grow up on her by herself with no guidance, and she had to be her own mother and father at the same time. No one loved her; she never got to have any relationships with anyone. After that one time with that random boy, the pale girl didn't care who it was or what they wanted to do, she always did anything sexual. It became a need of hers, and before graduating middle school she'd slept with half the guys in her grade.

In high school, she found herself standing on a different LA street corner every weekend. Once she got to Hollywood Arts and found that a bad reputation wasn't good for her acting career, Jade turned to the filthy job of prostitution. When she started dating Beck, she actually found that she didn't want to have sex with him at all. Maybe it was because she didn't want to be held down to one boy that she'd have to see everyday or maybe it was because she didn't care for him at all. Anyway, it's not like the dark girl even needed the money that she got from her "services", but she found it convenient that she could do what she was best at as well as make money at it. Jade told the strange men that she was eighteen and they didn't question her, they just paid right up front and got to work. After awhile, sex stopped being fun. All of the sudden it wasn't pleasurable and it just made her feel dirty, but she couldn't stop.

Eventually, she found herself with three different STDs.

One of them was AIDS.


I have a hold of them all and this time I'm not letting go.

I can be many different things, whether it be nymphomania, gambling, masochism, drugs, highs, or pyromania.

I'm everywhere.

Don't they realize? They have no chance beating me, stopping me, or taking control of me.

They're addicted.

Did you like it? Pleaseeeee review!

Until next time :)

*EDIT* So, is that any better? I'm happy with it and I'm glad I went back and changed things, I think it made the story a lot better. I'd really like to know if yo guys liked it! Also, if you're dealing with any of these things pleases don't hesitate to PM me :)