Authors note: Hi this is my first story so please, please, please be nice!

WAIT! Before anyone reads this I must warn you that this story has abuse in it, so if that is offensive or you just hate sad stories… stop reading now. Sorry but I had to tell you all.

Disclaimer: What is the point in these??? Everyone knows that Stephenie owns Twilight and Edward! Why make me even more miserable? *Sigh* I don't own Twilight… or Edward

Bella POV

I woke up in hell.

I was against the wall with my head between my knees and every inch of me screamed in agony. I risked a peek at my surroundings, and was relieved to see that Renee was already at work and Charlie's hulking body was sprawled on the floor, vibrating with loud snores. My hand clutched at my aching stomach as I heaved myself off the floor, sobbing from the pain that racked my body. After what seemed like forever, I was on my feet, clutching desperately at the table for support. And when I saw it I gasped so loud I thought I'd wake up Charlie. All around the room there was splatters and puddles of blood, some dry, old blood and some fresh blood that had only just started to stain, but the worst part was… it was my blood. Seeing it made me remember what had happened the night before, which was more worse than the other nights previously.


Renee sat in the chair, her head turning towards me as I entered the room. When she saw me she smirked and pointed towards Charlie, indicating that I should go to him. I gulped, my head screaming at me to run, run while I could still get away… but I didn't because I knew that he would catch me and make it twice as bad.

Charlie turned from the TV and his eyes lit up cruelly as he watched me walk shakily towards him. I stopped when Charlie got up and stalked towards me. I was shaking with fear wishing that someone would come and save me, but nobody did, and I was left at the mercy of Charlie.

I already knew that if I told anyone, my life will be ten times worse. Who would believe a seventeen year old girl over the police chief? So I closed my eyes and waited; then I opened them again. I don't know why, I'll just have terrible flashbacks later.

Charlie roughly pushed me to the ground and started to kick me. I started to whimper as the pain increased and screamed when one of my ribs cracked. He pulled me up to my knees by my hair with one hand and with the other he forcefully punched me again and again in my stomach until blood spurted out my mouth.

He then threw me across the room and my back crashed against the wall as I sagged to the floor, sobbing and whimpering. As Charlie advanced again I screamed.

'Stop, please stop! Why are you doing this?' I whimpered pitifully, again and again I whispered it, telling him to stop. After what seemed like years… He did.

I sat there, gasping for breath, watching the silent exchange between my two torturers. He looked into her eyes for minutes on end, and finally she nodded and stood up. A broken scream escaped my lips when he kicked me in the gut one last time, and then left, leaving me alone in the cold, pitch black room until I finally, and blissfully, fell unconscious.

End of flashback.

Renee and Charlie are my parents; not that they act like it. I snorted, which hurt my stomach, and crawled up the stairs to my room.

After I got dressed in an oversized purple hoodie and black jeans, I limped to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Uh, I hate myself so much. I had pale ghostly skin that stretched tightly over my cheekbones, making them stick out. Black circles shadowed my eyes, and now I had a new bruise to add to the collection; it was a fist shape just below my eye.

I fished about in my pockets and smiled thinly when I found the small, sharp razor that I used to cut myself. When I cut, it makes me happy, because this is a pain I can control; not like the pain Charlie gives to me.

I placed the razor a bit above my most recent scar, and quickly slashed. Blood eagerly poured out and I just sat on the toilet seat and watched until it stopped bleeding so quickly. Then I wiped the blood off my wrist, put the razor back in my pocket and quickly got my back pack. I slid out the door before Charlie could get up and shout some more.