A/N: Random one shot. Hope you enjoy.
I do not own the characters.
The air is stagnant, but smoky. It makes me want to choke. Who knows what my uncle James is smoking? Certainly not cigarettes. His teeth are already rotten down, a blackish yellow. Little stubs with large spaces in between. His greasy hair combed over to the side. It's supposed to be blonde. It almost looks brown. His fingers have hangnails, the nails are stubbed too short from him biting them and the tips of his fingers are yellow from all the smoking. He isn't attractive.
The house - or trailer for lack of a better word - is a mess. There are clothes everywhere. Ashtrays filled to the brim. The kitchen? A complete mess. We use paper plates now because the water got turned off three days ago. The sink is grime piled on top of each other. There's so much mould, I trust nothing to be eatable.
James opens a window and lets the cool, crisp autumn breeze in. It's October. The only good thing about autumn is that I'm back to school (yes James lets me go to school, it's a requirement really) and I can avoid James as much as possible. Ever since my father Charlie died on action as a cop, James has been left to take care of me much to our dismay. We hate each other.
He smokes everything and anything. He has a different woman over every night. If he's not smoking, he's drinking. Half the time he does both. He's gone a lot (thankfully) and I'm left at home. I'm not allowed to leave. Right now, he just got home with a pack of beer. He's already on the second one.
How many more until he realizes I'm here? Will he lash out on me again?
I bite my lip until it bleeds, liking the pain. Pain is all I feel, never happiness, love, comfort, and certainly not safety.
I look around the room. The walls are supposed to be white, but years upon years of smoking have left them a faded brown. The ceiling - I can't look at it without becoming nauseous.
My life has been like this for three years. I'm seventeen years old, been here since I was fourteen. My first night was the only night where I had hope. The second day was the first time he brought out the belt because I woke up too late. The second time, because I was in his way in the small trailer. All the times after are just his rage.
The teachers notice bruises on me, but I make up excuses. Gym was sure as hell hard, dodge ball isn't my sport, or, I fell. No one's been the wiser.
I only have one friend at school. His name is Edward Cullen. Recently, we've become a couple. We understand each other on a deep level even though he comes from a completely different life than I do. His dad pushes him to be the best and his mother passed away two years ago in a car accident. His dad is rich - a loaded doctor - and wants Edward to be the same. Edward's a football star and doesn't want to be a doctor.
Edward's dad doesn't like that.
Let's just say Edward falls a lot, too, and gym isn't is thing. Though those both are lies, it hides his bruises. His dad usually goes for the ribs, the back, places that can't be seen.
He whips my ass, literally.
Even slaps me around like I'm some china doll. All for stupid reasons.
Today I'm in worse shape than ever. We get a three-day weekend for Thanksgiving and James thought I was lying to be out of school. He smashed his beer bottle and came at me in colourful rage.
He slapped me across the face, and then backhanded me. Hurling insults at me, he bent me over and pushed me on the ground.
Spitting on me, throwing cuss words at me he told me to clean up the mess, pointing directly at the broken glass I've been pushed onto. I roll over onto my ass and look around at the mess. Not one, but two bottles must have been broken.
A shard of glass is in my knee.
I bite my tongue to stop from crying, my mouth already bleeding from being slapped and biting my lip.
I just want a nice shower and a nice bed.
I don't want this.
And a tear falls.
I can't even remember the last time I cried.
I've just been so numb.
Crawling on my hands and knees, I pick up all the shards of glass around me on the tile floor. Pieces of tile are missing from some of James' rage moments. I put all the glass into the garbage. Luckily, I didn't get any stuck in my hand.
Time passes and I just sit by the garbage.
I need Edward.
Then it hits me; Edward has a cell phone. I know his number. He gave it to me in case of an emergency even though I don't have a phone.
But James does.
I sneak my way into the living room and see James on another beer sitting in front of the television. He's muttering to himself.
"Damn son of a bitch didn't even pay me..." I can't hear the rest of the sentence for his words slur far too much.
I'm behind the couch he's sitting on.
I look around for his phone and when I peer over the old, green couch I see it's on the coffee table beside his feet.
I sit behind the couch, my back leaning against it for hours. I watch the sunset and try to stop my stomach from growling. If James caught me, he'd be angry. Just for being here. He wants me out of his sight at all times.
I try to.
But this place isn't even 800 square feet.
It's a trailer.
More time passes and I'm getting drowsy. My hunger has diminished to a dull ache in my stomach that can be avoided.
That's when I hear snoring.
I almost smile for the first time in ages.
I peek over the couch and see that yes, James is actually asleep.
He's drunk himself to bed.
As quickly and quietly as possible, I get up and snatch the phone off the coffee table. I run to the bathroom and crawl into the bathtub closing the shower curtain around me. I dial slowly, so slow, and bring the phone to my ear.
Please pick up.
"Hello?" A melodic voice that could only belong to Edward asks. "Hello?"
"Edward?" I pst out in a whisper. "It's Bella."
"Bella oh God, I miss you. Life has been hell and it's only been a day."
"Edward, please." I sniffle. "I need out of here. I c-can't..."
"Bella, angel, what's wrong?"
"James. He's taking it too far. Edward." I stop when I hear a creak. I hold my breath, the phone pressing against my skull painfully.
Then I hear some more snoring.
I breathe out.
"Edward, I-I'm leaving." I tell him suddenly taken aback by my words.
"What?" He asks then off in the distance, "No, Dad, no. I'll stay home. Have fun. No... Sorry about that, Bee. Dad's going out to get supper. Where are you going?"
"I'm running away," I cry. "I can't take this anymore."
"Bella... we're almost eighteen. Five more months, baby, can't you do it?"
"No." I whisper. "James is getting worse."
"Did he - Did he hit you?" Edward stammers his voice raising.
"Yes," A sob wretches through me. "I need out-t of here."
"Meet at the school. Bring a bag with all your shit. We're getting out of here."
"Edward!" I run to him and wrap my arms around him. He picks me up and spins me around.
"Angel." He breathes out in relief. "I love you so much."
"Edward, I'm sorry. I just need to leave." I cry into his shoulder. I kiss up his neck to his face.
His lips move with mine, memorizing. "I love you, Bella. I love you so much." He tells me and softly takes my face him his hands. "Your cheek."
"James got mad." I whisper an explanation.
"He has no right. For fuck sakes, Bella. We should've left years ago. This isn't right." His forehead leans against me. "I've got my car and I took all the money out of the bank. I left a note to my dad. He won't do anything. He knows when I'm eighteen I'm gone. The worst he'll do is sell my shit on Ebay."
Edward's breathlessly talking still. "Do you have your bag?"
I nod and look behind me at the old, worn out gym bag I stole from James. "I've got everything." I take his hand.
"Let's get going then, before someone sees us."
"Where will we go?"
"It doesn't matter. We'll just drive."
"I've got nearly a twenty grand. That'll help us for a long time, Bee. We'll hide until we're eighteen. Then we can go public. Until then, let's just drive and see where we end up, okay?"
"Ok." I nod. "Sounds like a plan."
And finally, feeling more confident than ever, I press my lips to Edward as though promising we'll stick together.
A/N: Check out my blogspot and facebook page for teasers and more! Link on profile.