A/N: WARNING: This story contains a mention of rape. Please do not read if this will deeply disturb you.
Please review! This is my first story and I will welcome any constructive criticism.
Prolouge
I was cleaning what felt like the thousandth plate that night when I felt it.
His hands.
On my body.
I froze.
They were on my hips, inching their way up my sides.
A girl was screaming inside my head, but his advances met no resistance.
Paralysed, I lost any sense of the present. It was like my body gave up without even trying.
Later they would ask "Why didn't you run?" "Why didn't you kick? Scream? Do anything to resist him!?"
And I would have no answer.
That night, Isabella Swan became trapped inside my head.
She watched as the lifeless form she inhabited morphed into a shell of the girl it once was.
With every burning touch, every raging word, I disintegrated.
By the time devil sauntered away, he had left me as nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor.
Easily picked up by the wind, blown out into the nothingness on a sweltering summer's day.
And just as easily swept under the carpet.
Useless. Dull. Defective.
Life bustled on around me. But I was no longer there. No longer living, really.
It's funny how long you can go in life without speaking. Most people never notice. They do all the talking for you in their heads. They make up your story, your feelings and your reactions. They see what they want to see.
She's shy. She's bored. She has low self-confidence.
There was no light at the end of the tunnel. I'd stopped trying to find it a long time ago. But I kept walking down that pitch-black tunnel, because that's what you do, right? Keep walking?