Authors Notes: Just another idea I had floating around.

Disclaimer: SM owns all.

Prologue

They say that time heals even the deepest of wounds, but even after seventeen years, the wound is still as fresh as it was the first day. There are ways to dull the pain though; to distract yourself from the whole in your chest. And that is what I did.

It started with alcohol, then drugs and even went so far to sleeping with random guys on the street. People started to think I was healing, getting better, but the truth was I was just taking something to numb the pain. Though my father did not like what I was doing at least I was living again, so he let it be. At least until I fell pregnant.

My first daughter was a miracle. She was the perfect distraction. My parents disowned me, so being a single mum was as hard as it can get, but at least she diverted my attention from the gaping fresh wound.

One child soon became four and at the age of thirty-five I had three beautiful girls and one loving son, all of whom I did not know their fathers. After my fourth child was born, I became the hunted.

Not hunted by the men who believed I was "easy", but hunted by the one who led me to make the greatest sacrifice in order for my children to live. At the start I sought out help. But after a battle, fifteen became three, and those three were now dead. They were all dead, because of me.

"Mummy, where did Uncle Jake go?" my only son question as I quickly gathered what belongings I could for them.

"On vacation." Only he wasn't. He was dead.

Taking my oldest aside, I explained what she was to do.

"Elizabeth, here is the address you need to go to, and here is everything you need. I love you. Protect them for me." Over the last twenty four hours I had gathered what
I could: fake ID and licences, money, photos and lastly, a letter explaining to the family that left me many years ago what they should take responsibility for; if not for them, I would not be in this situation.

After bidding my sweet children goodbye and watching them drive away in the only car I own, I allowed tears to streak down my cheeks as I dowsed the house in oil and lit a match.

Watching the last of my life burn in front of me was like letting myself die. It was almost freeing. I knew know that I could let myself die, and hope that my children would find their way to them.

When I turned around I found myself face to face with the person who made my life a living hell.

"Bella," she crooned, "it has been too long. We have much to catch up on," and with that, the torture began; terrible pain that echoed in my bones and sang in every cell, but it was still only a shadow of the gaping wound in my chest.

After Notes: Please tell me what you think! If you like I will continue writing… R&R