My Vaniro One-Shot Collection

Say What You Need to Say

A/N: So I don't think this was exactly what Anonymous (first try!) was looking for, but oh well. I tried. I might make this into a fuller fic, probably not though. So I hope you like. [THIS WAS FOR TUMBLR ORIGINALLY; WARNING: ABUSE]

Vanellope scrounged her drawers of makeup. If there was one thing Turbo managed to supply her with, it was makeup. There were only so many times Vanellope could lie and say she fell down the stairs.

To be honest, it made Vanellope wish she could eat makeup. She was freaking starving and the only thing she could touch was her bed and her makeup. Or sometimes her mother's things... one could say beats and bruises at night were something of a family tradition.

Vanellope didn't remember her mother very well; she just knew that her mother actually loved her. After she died (of murder at hand of Turbo, not matter what the police believed), Vanellope began finding little notes around the house. No, it wasn't like Vanellope was being haunted by her mother; more that, the older she got, the more Vanellope could notice the clues.

True, it was risky for her mother to do so, but Vanellope knew she was far smarter than her father. Not to honk her own horn or anything. But most days, Vanellope didn't even go to school, and every test managed to be passed with flying colors. Save history. She actually had to open the book for that. But everything else was just a matter of common sense. It was why Vanellope was actually graduated that year, and she could make it out of this stupid place.

But, back to her mother's notes; today's was different. Every birthday, the notes weren't a riddle for Vanellope to occupy herself with in order to distract her from her father. Instead, they were small presents. Sometimes, it was little $5 gift cards to the candy shop. Others were little necklaces or bracelets or things to put on them. But sometimes, on those 'big birthdays', like 10, 13, and 15, Vanellope would get her favorite of all the presents. They were hard to find, as they were too big for Vanellope's mother to hide inside the house, but worth it. They were engines, wheels, steel parts, etc. Things like Vanellope could make a car out of and fulfill her dream of not only outshining her father in racing, but, once doing that, finally convincing authorities that her mother's death wasn't suicide.

And today was Vanellope's 18th birthday. Not only did she hope for another part for the car she was building, but Vanellope could finally get a job to get her out of this hell hole. Vanellope was building her car at Fix it Felix's (a repair ship), where the owner, Felix (actually the son of the owner) and his ironically-younger-ham-handed brother, Ralph, ran the place. They let her use any spare parts and swore to Vanellope a job there once she could legally get it. Vanellope would have taken up the offer sooner, but minors needed permission (a signature) from their legal guardians, meaning Turbo would have to know about the job, and Vanellope knew he would only make sure all the money went to him.

Yes, things were going to get better. Vanellope was sure of it.

But the first things came first; makeup.

After she finished filling out the paperwork for her job, Vanellope waved goodbye to Ralph (who was covering Felix since he was taking his wife to dinner) and get off to find the remaining part; it'd been waiting for 13 years, it could wait another 13 hours or so. Vanellope shoved her hands into the jean pocket she usually put the clues in. Vanellope pulled out an empty hand. Confused, Vanellope shoved her hand into her other pocket. She'd been putting the clues in that pocket for some time now, but maybe... Nope.

Vanellope's heart sank; she must have left it at Turbo's house (she'd never dare to call it her own). It was late now; maybe Turbo had gone to the bar. Or maybe he had done it in the afternoon, and he was back and worse than ever.

When Vanellope got to the house, she realized it was not only the latter,

but Turbo had found her mother's hints.