Chapter 1
I believe everything my father tells me. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. And I'm the reason my mother died…
By the way.. I'm Isabella Swan even though I prefer to be called Bella I live with my father, Charlie Swan (the chief of police) in a small white house in Forks, Washington.
My Story….
My mother died when I was 9. When I was little I came down with a disease and soon enough my mother caught it. My father always encouraging both of us to hang on. He would always say, "Your going to be okay.. My little angels. Don't worry."
My mother had the worst of the disease. She was getting close to dying every hour, every minute, every second. I want my family to be healthy and happy, but if one of us has to die I think it should be me. Since I gave my mother the disease in the first place. I soon got out of the hospital.. The disease had left me. But not my mother. She was still in the hospital fighting for her life. One night my father and I went home. We were sleeping when we received a phone call. My mother had died about an hour after we left. I fell to my knees crying.
My father didn't talk to me anymore nor look at me. I reminded him to much of Renee. To him it was like I wasn't even there. I would get worried about him and cook him dinner he would look at the plate when I give it to him and bring it to his bedroom. He didn't work anymore and I was going to school and then trying in anyway I could to make some money.
After 2 months.. He started going back to work and seemed coming home happy. I guess some of the guys at the station cheered him up. I was happy for him. Then one day he came home from work and I smelled alcohol. My father's drinking? I let it go until the next night. He came home very drunk and sat down on our old brown couch popped a beer and started to watch a basketball game.
"Dad…?" I asked. He looked up at me. "What?" He growled. I stepped back half a step. "Never mind." I said. I decided I would bring it up in a conversation tomorrow, when a game isn't on. I cooked him his dinner. Chicken, Corn, and Peas with another beer. (of course) When I gave him his food he literally spit it out. "Dam it! Isabella! What the hell would u give me damn peas?" He screamed. Holey Crap! Where did that come from? "I thought you liked peas?" I asked. He growled. "I have never liked peas! Your damn mother always fed it to me! It's your fault she's dead! If you had never been born your mother would have never came down with that disease and me and her could be living right now!" He screamed.
I was scared and I felt guilty, I took away his happiness. I also felt pity for him. He misses her, so he go and gets drunk to forget. Not the best way to deal with it. "I'm sorry I was born." I muttered. He smiled.
Then he did the thing I never thought he would do. He slapped me! It stung. Then he threw the plate of food at me and twisted me arm. Which I knew by the sound of a crack it had broke. I screamed. "Tsk, Tsk, Isabella. If only you had behaved." I tried to go to the doctors by running there but my father had told me never to go to the doctor because if someone found it he might have to kill them. So I never went to the doctors I dealt with the pain myself. Basically, I believe it became a hobby of his. Beating me. He would get home from work and well you know the rest… Sometimes the beatings were so hard and sometimes he would just slap me and go to bed. But it was always something. Once he said, "When you go to school wear heavy clothes, so no one can see your bruises and never and I mean ever tell anyone about this." After that I stayed away from the doctors and away from most people and never told a single sole how my life really was.