I don't like this. It's all over the place and terrible, but I love Tori so I thought I'd post it anyway :)

Tori could remember a time, when she was twelve, that she had been sitting in the dining room (although why it was called that she hadn't the foggiest, because they never ate there, only with company), fiddling around with her new laptop. She had been leaning back in her chair, the two front legs off the ground, when her mother had click clacked in (she had always worn shoes in the house, something Tori had never really understood) and told her not to do that, for god's sake, because she was going to lean the chair back against the wall and chip the paint.

Tori could remember lots of times like those. Don't sit on the counter Tori, it's not a chair. Don't place your drink on the table without a coaster, Tori. For god's sake, Tori, don't stomp your feet like so, you'll break the entire china cabinet. That seemed to be the only word her mother knew- don't don't don't.

She wonders how she got from not being able to lean her chair against the wall to not having a chair she could even lean on. The only thing she has to sit on is floor, dusty floor or boxes. She hasn't seen a coaster in who knows how long. Ditto a china cabinet.

It seemed the only thing she could ever do was disappoint her mother. She wonders what her mother would think of her now, sitting in an abandoned house with a whiny little girl who is afraid of her own shadow and two boys who would cut off their own hands to give to her if she so desired. Tori doesn't want their hands- she just wants a bed and a shower and some proper food and to live in a place that didn't have a decomposing body a few rooms away. But all they want is for her to go away.

Don't come down when the guests are here, Tori. Don't be so overdramatic, Tori. Don't worry, Tori, it isn't permanent. Don't terrorize the other guests, Tori. Don't exaggerate, Tori, it looks bad on me. Don't complain, Tori, at least you're getting help. Don't blame me, Tori, it's not my fault you're like this.

Don't fight, Tori. Don't insult Chloe, Tori. Don't complain, Tori, or you can go home.

And when they thought she was asleep:

Don't wake Tori, I don't want to deal with her. Don't make me go with Tori. Don't tell Tori, she'll only complain.

Don't don't don't. Can't they realize she doesn't want to be here with them anymore than they want her to be? But where else could she be? She's in just as much danger as they are, but she is annoying and a bitch so it doesn't matter whether the Edison Group is planning on killing her like they had killed Liz, because she doesn't matter, and anyway, everything is okay as long as Chloe is safe.

She knows cursing her draw in life isn't going to do anything, but she does anyway because it makes her feel a miniscule amount better and she has to do something. So she wonders why the hell she couldn't have been born normal, away from all of this, with a family who loved her and didn't experiment on her and tamper with her childhood.

But normal is a long way off, and she's not sure she's ever even had it. So if she can't be normal, why can't she be a little more accepted? She wasn't going to trip over her feet to get Chloe and Simon and Derek to accept her, but couldn't they at least realize that she is in the same damn position as them?

She settles back into the floor, trying and failing to get comfortable, finally giving up and using her arm as a pillow, trying to get to sleep.

Don't worry about it Tori, you don't need them. Don't complain Tori, it's not going to get you anywhere. Don't worry, soon this will be over and you can go on with your life. Don't worry; they wouldn't actually leave you behind. Don't worry, you don't really need them. Don't depend on them, Tori- you know better than to depend on anyone.

Don't don't don't, she falls asleep with the word swirling around in her brain and just once she wishes that someone will tell her do.