Um, yeah. So this was originally an original story, written for the lovely Saffiya Scarlett's christmas present. Unfortunately, being the Twi-hard that I am, I just had to change it to a Twilight fic. Meh. I hope it's not contagious...

So, here you go. I;ve gone over it, and I think I've got all of the names, but if anyone finds any that ren't supposed to be there, could you let me know? Thanks. Also: This is just the prologue, hence the shortness. Sorry. The other chapters are much longer, each one four or five pages on word.

I think that's everything. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: OME!! Smeyer gave me Twilight for Christmas!!! AREN'T YOU JEALOUS?!

Did any one actually believe that? Damn. Oh, well. I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS, ONLY THE CONCEPTS.

A Twilight FanFiction
By Becky Scarlett-Cullen


Would you like to hear my story? It's hardly pleasant, but—whose is? Maybe, one day, I'll even find the happy ending that I so desperately crave. Perhaps…

"Please. Please," he whispers, "please, do not be afraid…I'm not going to hurt you. I would never…"

I choke at that; I cannot help myself. How can he promise me that? Everyone I know, everyone I have ever known has hurt me. How can he promise that this time will be any different?

"No…" I have to bite my lip sharply to stop the tears that are pooling in my eyes from falling. "Don't promise me anything."

"What do you have against promises?"

"You can't keep a promise like that… please, don't try."

"I have to. Can't you see that I…I care about you? Seeing you hurt would be… very hard. Intolerable. Please, just let me…" He trails off.

I am silent for a moment, trying to process his words. The fact that anyone cares that much is alien to me. It seems impossible. It is impossible. And this boy… this man—he will leave, too, after he finds out the truth (and he will find out the truth). Is there any sense in getting my hopes up, only to have them destroyed? And if that is the case, then why does it feel so right to have his arms wrapped protectively around me?

"I can't… I'm sorry."

The pain is clear to me, shining in the broken expression that dominates his eyes. I want nothing more than to curl up against his chest and cry for everything that has ever gone wrong, like I did the first time we met, but he would think me disgusting and pathetic. Maybe he'd beat me, or worse, for that is what I have come to expect from men. I will not risk it.

Detaching myself from his protective grip on my waist, I step away. I speak again, quietly, in an attempt to hide the pain in my voice. "Sorry, Edward."

I hear him call my name as I run, but I choose not to listen…