WARNING- THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE THEMES SUCH AS SELF HARM AND ABUSE, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY UPSET OR TRIGGER YOU IN AN WAY
I have suffered with self harming before not long ago, and please if you or any of your friends/family are going through it, get help and just remember it DOES get better and you're not alone. I'm always here if you need any help I'll understand xx
Disclaimer- I do not own 'Twilight' or any of the other books written by Stephanie Meyer. All characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to the wonderful author and not me (although I wish Jacob aka Taylor Lautner belonged to me )
This story is set in New Moon, just after Edward left Bella and she is depressed and lonely.
Also, this is my first proper fanfic that I'm taking seriously, so please review and tell me what you think. Too boring? Too short? Too depressing?
Also, if you spotted any spelling/grammar mistakes then I'm sorry, I wrote this pretty quickly and there may be a few typos but please don't hate I tried my best x
My dad leers above me, dressed in his black suit and tie that he wore to Mom's funeral. His breath stinks of alcohol and the evil smirk on his face tells me that he's drank a lot and that it wouldn't be a good idea to piss him off tonight as his temper isn't great at the best of times, especially not when he's terribly drunk.
"I'm going to head off to bed, I'm super tired", I say, faking a yawn and edging towards the stairs cautiously, watching my dad carefully, hoping he doesn't stop me.
Charlie glares at me, full of hatred and starts shouting.
"No, you will not go to bed yet, Bella! There's no way you're going to be let off that easily on the night of your Mom's funeral. It's all your fault she's dead in the first place and you deserve to die instead of her, you worthless piece of shit!" he spits.
I look back into his eyes, fearfully. What was he talking about? It wasn't my fault Mom was dead, her and Phil had died in a car crash two weeks ago, I hadn't even been there.
Did he think that I wasn't upset over her death too? Of course I was, she was my mom for gods sake, I loved her so much and I was heartbroken when I was given the devastating news but I'd learnt to control my emotions in front of people and only cry at night when I was alone with my sadness.
I understand that he is hurting now Mom's dead, she was the love of his life after all, even if they had gotten divorced and she'd got with Phil, but that didn't mean it was ok for him to take it out on me all the time. I was sick of getting the blame for everything that had happened all the time, I just wanted to go back to when things were easier, and I was happy, about a year ago.
"It wasn't my fault you know" I whisper back, scared of what Charlie's reaction would be.
"OF COURSE IT WAS YOUR FUCKING FAULT!" Charlie screams at me angrily. His face has turned bright red with anger and his eyes are popping out his head.
He storms towards me and I back away, scared of what he was capable of now he was this wound up.
Charlie laughs at me cruelly, his head back.
"Oh, Bella, you stupid kid. There's no need to be scared of your daddy, I would never do anything to hurt you."
His tone is sarcastic and suggests the complete opposite of what he is saying.
'I need to get away from him' I realise, as he gets more and more angry, not in control of his emotions or his actions anymore.
I turn and try and go upstairs to the safety of my bedroom but Charlie grabs hold of my wrist and drags me backwards, startling me.
He then smacks his hand right across my left cheek, leaving a red mark. He pushes me forcefully and my head hits the wall with impact, leaving me dazed on the floor, with Charlie standing above me.
I can't believe that my Dad has turned into this: my kind, loving father who welcomed me into both Forks and his home warmly could have turned into this cruel, angry, drunk man who resulted into hitting his daughter to make himself feel better.
I stay on the floor for a while, not daring to say anything in case it angered Charlie and made him hurt me again. Eventually, Charlie laughs at the state I'm in and goes into the living room, turning on the TV like the whole thing never happened.
I breathe out in relief, glad he's finally left me alone, and hurry upstairs, praying that it'll never happen again.
I rush into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I can hardy recognise girl that looks back at me, one side of her cheek flaming pink with a hand mark on it and her face looking as pale as a ghost.
This isn't me, my life used to be so simple, I had loving parents who cared about me, good friends and of course a gorgeous boyfriend who protected and loved me always but then everything went downhill…
Edward left me six months ago in the forest, having told me he doesn't want me anymore and that he'd moved on. My friends had all left me because of how depressed I'd been after Edward had left, my mom was dead and my dad has turned abusive.
My life was a mess, and there was nothing really worth living for anymore. I was depressed, lonely and I missed my mom more than ever.
I listen out for Charlie's footsteps but I don't hear any, only the telly blaring from downstairs. I frantically search the bathroom cupboards until I find what I'm looking for: my razor.
I grab it and take a deep breath, the loneliness and pain overwhelming me. Charlie's words are repeated again and again inside my head.
"It's your fault your mom's dead"
"You're a worthless piece of shit"
I start to think that maybe I am worthless, I made Edward leave after all and I made my friends ignore me. My eyes fill up with tears and they roll down my cheeks silently, leaving a trail.
My hands shaking, I drag the razor down my wrist, watching as blood appears and drips down my arm.
Once, twice, three times.
It feels good to have some way to not feel the sadness anymore, the feeling of physical pain makes me numb to the emotional pain I've been feeling ever since Edward left and my body is overtook with the urge to do it again.
I make several more slices to my wrist with the razor, liking the stinging sensation it gives me. I look down at my arm, which is now covered in dark red blood and I panic.
'Oh god, what are my parents going to think?'
And then I realise the truth; Mom's long dead and Dad's past caring about me.
I run my arm under the tap, the blood swirling down the drain, making a big mess of the sink. I ignore it though, and wait until all the blood had dried before pulling my jumper sleeve back down and hiding the scars that run all the way up my arm.
(Back to present)
That was the first time I'd ever self harmed, months ago. Since then, I have cut myself every day, sometimes two or three times a day, loving the numbness it makes me feel and how I forget about every thing around me when I'm doing it except the razor in my hand.
As the days went on, Charlie (or Dad) didn't get any better. Even after the funeral, he was still angry at everyone and hated me especially. I can't believe that I was once that innocent to think that he'd stop hitting me and that it was only a one time-thing that would never happen again. I was stupid to believe that.
Every day when he gets back from work or before, he'll come and find me in the house and find a way to hurt me. Sometimes it's by slapping me, sometimes it's kicking me, sometimes it's throwing things at me and sometimes it's by using a belt.
As time went on, I got more and more used to him coming home and beating me and I'd wait by the door until he got back just to make it easier for him. He said it's as a punishment for my mom's death and that I deserved everything I was given because I was stupid. He told me that nobody would ever like me and that I was worthless and I believed him. I believed everything he said because I really did hate myself and for everything that was happening in my life, it made more sense to blame myself than just accept it.