A/N: First time writing anything for the internet, I'm very excited and anxious! Really not the best debut to have a fic with a genre like this haha but I hope you enjoy :D I can't guarantee I will update regularly with lengthy chapters, but Thanks heaps for reading! I would love any kind of review, and I'll definitely keep going if you guys find this okay :)

(If you find any relation to abuse uncomfortable, I wouldn't recommend this fic to you, sorry!)

-Casolia

PROLOGUE

Beca groaned, agony dripping in her voice, as she doubled over to clutch where the fist smashed against. "Don't try and argue with me Rebecca Mitchell," Her dad, Warren, stood over her with his eyes flaming with hatred and disgust towards his daughter, "If I said you are going to Barden, you are." He snarled as he raised his scratched knuckles over her threateningly.

Beca flinched and nodded slowly, trying to control her shaking body and ragged breaths. He asked her 5 minutes ago- well, more like announced it to her- that she'll be attending Barden University. When Beca gave a meek attempt in refusing, since she wanted to go DJ in LA, he went wild. Warren glared at her as if waiting for her to burst into tears like Beca used to when she was young, before he divorced her mother.

Tears stung her navy eyes but she quickly blinked them away, knowing the consequences of crying in front of him. She could only hear blood roaring against her ear as her glossy eyes averted, trying to look anywhere but meet Warren's eyes.

Warren finally sighed gruffly, cursing under his breath as he flexed his fingers and turned away to go out Beca's room. She stayed dead still until she heard the loud thud of the front door of the house, echoing through the silent halls.

Beca finally let out a shaky breath she didn't realize she held in, her body crumpling to the floor as tears flooded her eyes again. She bit her trembling bottom lip from emitting soft sobs, as warm beads of tears slid down her cheeks and hung onto her jawline. She buried her face into her hands, her heart wrenching with every gasp she took to control her sobs...

She wondered if this was what it felt like to be heartbroken. It felt as if a cold ghostly hand dragged its nails across her heart, a white burning agony following its scratch. It felt like someone was repeatedly punching you on the same spot, a sickly green bruise forming and now becoming a brilliant shade of violet, continuing to become worse with each blow. It felt as if someone just tossed you into the sea and left you drowning, sinking deep into the dark layers of cold. It hurt.

Beca sniffed as she quickly wiped her tears with the heel of her palm and gathered her shattered emotions. She dragged her petite body to the bathroom, pushing open the door with her shoulder. She slowly peeled off her jeans, revealing bruises and few brilliant red cuts slashing her lower thighs, stopping at midway of her shins. She unbuttoned her checkered button down shirt, vibrant flood of purple now coloring in the spot where the blow struck earlier. Just like her legs, cuts and scars laced her wrists with various shades of red, scattered up to her shoulders. Her mind numbed, filling her head with white silence whenever she saw the scars. It reminded her of who she really was, what she was dealing with and how she couldn't stand up to Warren or run away.

Warren would always abuse her with his fists but sometimes he brought up a razor. He didn't use the razor until he one day found out that Beca was cutting when she was being bullied when she was younger...

She still could remember the day he revealed the shining blade from his pocket with the most blood chilling scowl, hissing "Why don't we bring back your old habits?" He didn't cut her as much as he used his fists and foot, but it hurt as much as any other abuse. Warren was "clever" in his own way; he attacked her where the damage wasn't too visible so others wouldn't realize Beca's pain unless she showed them- which was unlikely.

People who saw the crimson lines on her wrists always seemed to either frown and call her a freak or look at her with concern and say that she should really stop doing this to herself, as if the cuts were made by herself. Beca didn't have an answer to both comments, she usually just ended up running away from them, too scared to face them again after they saw what she was made of. They didn't bother chasing her or trying to talk to her after anyway, and that's usually when the hard-built ropes of bonding are chopped down.

She never had friends- she had met people who would act like they cared for her and act friendly towards her but Beca could easily see through their masks; how they would spit dirty words about her behind her back about how "emo" and quiet she acts. She decided her life was better off alone, just praying for the day when she would finally move out, rather than spending time with these fake people. She was sick of acting friendly to them anyway and loneliness already found a place in her life ages ago.

She realised Barden University would significantly lessen her time interacting with her Warren(except when she saw him around school since he was a English teacher there)- she could stay at the dorm Barden offered, rather than going back home where fear always gnawed her. She let out a sad, quiet sigh; Beca would be smiling with glee right now if she hadn't been abused and thrown around like a sack of crap 15 minutes ago.

Beca stepped inside the glass tall and turned on the water. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and let the droplets of water soak her hair and face, washing away the tear stains.

Barden… Here comes Beca Mitchell

And this was just the beginning...