I stared ahead as I wandered the streets, not really looking at anything. I looked down at my watch, 9:30. I better get back to James and Victoria's apartment, I refused to call it home, and make sure the place was in tip-top shape before they got home from their banquet. I hate it here, I would rather be back in Juvie. I clenched my fist at remembering those days.

I'm Bella, well, I'm technically Bella Swan, but after I was shipped off and abandoned, I threw my last name out the door. When I was only twelve years old, my mother and father shipped me off to the CHINS program, which is basically where your parents can send you into jail because you are too hard to handle.

Of course, you have to pay for it too, and Renee and Charlie didn't like that after a few months. So they put me up for adoption, where I had been shipped around from foster home to foster home to be beaten until I'm too boring and ship me off somewhere new. There had also been a trial somewhere in there, but I don't really remember how they had gotten the judge to declare me applicable for the program.

I am now fourteen, and need to get to the house soon. I ran the rest of the way, only to find that they left a message saying they wouldn't be here until midnight, the place better be clean, and I must be out of sight once they arrive. There wasn't much to clean, considering I left this place an hour after they did.

I hate it here.

After making sure every square inch of the house was spotless, I decided to read. I picked up Fight Club and opened it up to where I had left off. I liked to read the dark books, they showed me my life could be worse. For instance, I could have a split personality that was destroying the world while I slept. Sleep, ha. I haven't slept since I was kicked out by my 'parents'.

I hate it here.

I finished the book at 11:17, and decided to take a shower. I turned the water on and let it heat up as I undressed. Once the water was warm, almost hot, I stepped in. I let the soothing water cascade down my back while I poured some strawberry shampoo into my hand and massaged it into my scalp. I didn't think of anything, this was my time to just not think, to relax. My body ran through the motions of getting me clean while I just let my mind think of nothing.

After I had spent about fifteen minutes I shut the water off and stepped out to dry off and get dressed. I grabbed my clothes and put them in my hamper in my room. It's better than some rooms I've had, but that's only for appearance. What in the world would people think if they saw that the mayor of Seattle's foster brat's room was a cot on the floor in the basement?

That's the only reason I'm here, to make them look good. 'Oh did you hear? Mayor Ambulo and his darling wife adopted a little girl, their such great people.' I wonder what those people would think if they ever actually saw what happened in this house.

'Oh my, didn't you hear? Mayor Ambulo and his horrid wife beat their foster child, beat her senseless, break her bones and leave her in the middle of the floor for days.' Of course, they'd find a way to cover it up, they have their sources.

I hate it here.

I sat on my bed and stared at the wall, trying to not think of anything, just sit there. I miss it, sleeping I mean. With insomnia, nothing is real. Your never really awake, and your never really asleep. Your stuck in a constant of being half-conscious.

I heard the front door open and two laughing people enter the house before it slammed shut, I quickly turned the light off and got under the covers to fake sleep. I heard my door open before it shut again. I chanced a peek to see if anyone had come in, they hadn't. I didn't want them to know I was awake, when their drunk, or angry, they tend to get an even sicker sense of amusement.

I heard them enter their room and sighed, they wouldn't be leaving that room until at least noon tomorrow, which gave me a ton of time to clean their mess and leave. I spent my night the way I usually did. Listening to music, tonight I chose my absolute favorite band, Desolated. The two singers we're basically my idols. Alice was the lead singer, but not the only one. Where as Rose played the guitar and was a little more than a back up singer, in most songs, they would sing the chorus together and their voices fit together beautifully.

They were also sisters, though Rose was adopted into their family at the age of eight, they acted like sisters. I laid on the bed and sung softly along with the lyrics until about three A.M. when I decided to get on the internet. It may sound a bit obsessive, but I check Desolated's website every time I get the chance, so after I checked my E-mail, Myspace, and Facebook, I went to their site to see if they had any new updates.

'Do you want to meet Rose and Alice? Make a video of you playing one of your own originals and whichever audition they find best will win a day out and about with your two favorite girls, Rose and Alice.' Said the newest update on their site. I looked at my guitar, I had been able to attain it after Renee and Charlie threw me away. How amazing would it be to spend an entire day with my idols? Why not give it a shot, even though I won't win, it's not like I don't have any free time.

I decided I would bring my guitar with me tomorrow to the park along with my digital camera, also which I had gotten back from Renee and Charlie. I decided to go ahead and print out the rules for the contest. When I was done, it was four A.M. I decided to try and get as much sleep as I could. I slipped under the covers and laid their for a while, random thoughts popping into my head, keeping me awake, as usual. I finally drifted off to sleep at about five o'clock only to wake up on my own accord an hour later. Damn mental alarm clock. I got out of bed and went downstairs to check out the damage, the only mess made was a spill in the kitchen and a few dishes in the sink. I cleaned the spill but decided to leave the dishes until after I finished making their breakfast. I stirred in the ingredients for pancakes quickly, putting the wet ingredients first instead of the dry, just to spite them. Yeah, I know, I'm so fucking bad.

I hate it here.

I made a good amount of pancakes and set them on a plate, before putting them in the microwave to keep warm until they woke up. I did the dishes, scrubbing all of the dried pancake off of the pan and making sure every dish was perfect. I then decided to get ready, I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans and a striped, blue short-sleeved shirt, and my kicks. I then went on to wash my face and put just enough make-up on to cover the fading bruise on my cheek. I decided my hair was impossible, so just put it up in a pony-tail and put my black, knit cabbie hat on over it.

I put the rules, wallet, camera, and guitar in my guitar case before scribbling a quick note to James and Victoria telling them where their food was before heading out of their huge apartment and out of the complex. I took a cab to Books-A-Million, I needed to pick up a book I would need for history.

Oh yeah, I home-school myself, though the public thinks that the wonderful Mrs. Ambulo is the one doing the teaching. Insert scoff here, commence eye roll now. Whatever, I'm used to having my work stolen. I quickly paid for the book, before heading over to the café that was in the store. I got myself a caramel macchiato and blue-berry muffin, I used my money, wouldn't dare even think about using James' money, never.

I hate it here.

I worked as a waitress at a little pizza shop a block down from the apartment five days out of the week, from three-six. I use the money to pay my phone bill and get me food. I wasn't allowed to eat their's. After enjoying my breakfast, I bought a bottled water and caught another cab to the park, I knew a place not too far into the woods that would be the perfect place to make my audition, playing my song Nineteen Stars. I had written it shortly after I got out of the hospital, within my first week staying at the Ambulo's.

I paid the driver and grabbed my guitar case and water bottle before heading out to my little meadow. I read over the rules quickly the only important information on their that the cut-off was October 15th, two weeks from now, and the winner would be chosen the


I practiced with the tabs of the song for about twenty minutes before I decided I had it perfected. I set the camera on my guitar case and sat in the grass in front of it before turning it on. I did the required introduction.

"Hello Rose and Alice, my name is Bella Swan." I had to push the name out of my mouth. "I am fourteen years old and live in Seattle, Washington. I will be playing my song, Nineteen stars. Here we go." I breathed the last part before starting the song.

Don't tell me you're done for
Don't need to hear you're done for
But you can tell me what you are running from
I need you more than you need you
I can see you're really really running

The song was mildly difficult to play, not physically, but emotionally. It was hard reliving that night.

Stay awake, stay awake
I've got nineteen stars that I
Give your name tonight

I finished the song and forced a smile at the camera "Thank you." Was all I said before turning the Camera off and packing my guitar up. I watched the video and it seemed to be about as good as it would get, so I packed it up also. I looked at my phone, it was already two o'clock, I needed to leave if I wanted to make it to work on time, luckily for me, I had remembered to bring my work clothes.

I got to work about five minutes early which gave me enough time to change before clocking in. I said a quick "hello" to Jake before stashing my stuff in the back. Work, as always, passed by quickly and I soon found myself walking back to the apartment. As soon as I walked in the door, I went straight to my room to put my guitar up.

"Isabella! My dinner is not made." James roared. My eye's widened, I had forgotten he would be home early this week, therefore requiring me find some way to fix his dinner. I ran out of my room as fast as I could and into the kitchen, but I was stopped in the living room by James.

"Shouldn't you know by now that dinner should be ready when I get home?" He yelled in my face, I didn't dare answer him, that would be a bad idea. He slapped me in the face hard, causing me to crumble to the ground. Show no emotion, fake indifference.

I hate it here.

He started to kick me chanting over and over again "You dirty little whore!". The tears were staining my cheeks reluctantly now as I was curled in a ball. He picked me up by my hair, causing me to yelp in pain, he smiled wickedly at this. He dropped me back on the floor and with one last kick to my side, went to sit on the couch.

"Now, get my food ready, bitch." He ordered me with a satisfied tone. I forced myself up off the floor and limped to the kitchen to make him some spaghetti. My side was killing me, making it very difficult to breathe. My eyes were getting harder and harder to keep open, but I knew I had to stay awake, considering it could be a concussion. I questioned myself why I cared. I wish I didn't have to be here anymore, I wish I didn't have to be on this planet anymore. I wish I could just cease to exist.

I hate it here.

AN: What'd ya think? Like it? Hate it? Wish I would die for writing this unstead of updating American Living? Yeah, sorry to tell you guys, but American Living is on Hiatus for the time being. Back to the story, the song in here is 'Nineteen Stars' by Meg & Dia, and the quote "With Insomnia, nothing is real." Is from Fight Club. Just a warning, this story will have swearing, sexual themes, drug abuse, traumatic events, yada, yada, yada. I've had this idea in my head for quite a while, because when I'm laying in bed, trying to sleep, these kind of situations form themselves in my head. This is probably the main reason behind my insomnia. Remember the song, it will have meaning later on in the story. Please Review!