Disclaimer: Hey guys, I don't own a thing!

This is my first fanfic EVER!!! So excited! I'll be updating every week or so. Please review! You guys are the best! I don't care if you hate it, just review!

xoxo SopranoandBass

Chapter One


My name is Edward Cullen, and I used to live with my brother and twin sister, Emmett and Alice respectively, and my mother and father Esme and Carlisle. We were moving to the tiny town of Forks, Washington and finally leaving Denali. We hated it in Alaska, so close to our obnoxious orphaned cousins, so we left to try out our luck elsewhere.

I got the bottom bedroom. It's a kind of rectangular room on the front of the house. It has white walls and a dark blue carpet. I had only one window, but it's huge and takes up almost the entire wall of my room that faces the neighbor's house. We had just arrived a few hours ago, so I was still trying to unpack when I saw her. I hadn't thought to close the window for privacy, and neither had she. I don't think that she realized that we had moved in yet. I'll admit, the moving truck still hadn't arrived.

I saw the girl; I didn't know her name yet, sit down on a bed opposite mine. Her window was floor-to-ceiling and, but narrow. However, she was sitting on her bed, which was in just the right position that I could see her. I was just watching her, wondering what our new neighbors were up to. I knew I shouldn't have stared, but I was curious and I never expected that I would see…well…

I was watching her, when she suddenly but gently pulled her shirt off, my jaw must have dropped to the floor. She had the most perfect body, pale skin and perfectly rounded breasts. She was wearing a plain white bra, which she unhooked, but did not remove. Thank goodness! Her shoulders sort of slumped a little once the bra was not tight around her skin, it was like she had been in pain before, but removing the pressure of her bra from her skin made her feel better.

But, actually, what I noticed first was that, her body was perfect, but marred by terrible bruises, cuts and scrapes. There was a nice big one on one of her lower ribs which she looked at in a mirror that was floor length across the room from her dresser. She seemed to be evaluating her body; I wondered how she had gotten all of her bruises. I looked more closely, and noticed not that she was skinny, a good thing, but she was way too skinny, which wasn't so good. I could clearly see every one of her ribs, and her stomach was the flat of the unhealthy, not the flat of the healthy. As she turned her face slightly toward me, I noticed that her cheekbones were very prominent, her face was quite gaunt. I quickly turned back to my suitcase, afraid that she would see me watching her.

When I was sure that it was safe, I glanced back at her room through the window. Now her pants were off too, my eyes popped. Her legs, they were just as perfect, and just as bruised as her torso. Now she was sitting in front of her window in panties and an unhooked bra applying some kind of cream to her body. My eyes were glued to her perfect, but mottled, body. I didn't have time to even think before a man burst his way into her room. He was large, but not fat, slightly balding and definitely shorter than me, maybe around 5' 10". He was wearing khakis and a white undershirt. His eyes swept her room, seeing me in the window. I should have ducked; it would have saved her more bruises.

The man stormed up to her, the beautiful girl shuffled back from him on her bed and pressed herself against the headboard. I couldn't hear, but I saw the man's mouth moving angrily. He waved a hand out her window, and then her head followed his gesture and saw me. Her face, her perfect but emaciated face, changed into an expression of horror and embarrassment. I was unable to do anything other than stare at her face. Looking back, I wonder if maybe that's how true love works. You know that they hate you, but you can't stop being with them, or in my case, watching them.

Then, I saw the man's hand lash out. She didn't, and was hit smack on the cheek. Her head flew into the wall. Her eyes fluttered and she slowly lifted her head. She didn't get far. The man, still yelling, hit her again and again slamming her head into the wall as I watched in horror. Eventually she slumped onto the bed. The angry man punched her in the gut once then stormed out of the room.

She lay still for a moment, and I was worried that she was unconscious, but then she sat up, shakily, supporting herself with her arms, and rehooked her bra, wincing as she did so. I could see the blood on her head. She stood, then, and shuffled to the window, I don't know if she saw me, and reached out the close the blinds. I watched until I could see her no more, but before she was lost to me for the night I saw a single tear carve a path down her freshly bruised cheek.