Hi everyone. So this is a reboot. I'm back on fanfiction after what I believe has been a 2 year hiatus. Tell me if it was worth coming back. Thanks. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

My So Called Life

(BPOV)

Some of us are fortunate enough to live a life that closely resembles a fairytale: perfect family, storybook setting, and ever-present laughter and happiness. Then there are those of us who are destined to have that kind of life stolen away from us and thrown into the fiery depths of a hellish nightmare.

Well, what can I say not all of us can have a happily ever after.

Up until I was thirteen my life was I guess you could say fairly comfortable. My parents were pretty young when they had me, so they were never super strict on rules, curfews, and such. Not that they needed them, I was always a pretty good kid, the only kind of mischief I got into was the same kind that every kid gets into, (breaking the neighbor's window by accident, harassing my friends' brothers, that kind of stuff). My dad Charlie was the police chief here in Forks, Washington and my mom Renee was, well is, a photographer, so she was around on and off. Sometimes she'd spend a year off somewhere around the world, but then she'd come back and stick around, snap random pictures close to home. I had a large group friends and like most kids I was pretty happy and content.

I was rather oblivious to the fact that my world was about to be turned upside down.

When I was twelve my mom went off on another one of her adventures. She was always thrilled whenever she went off on one of her escapades, so I never told her how much I truly missed her and how sad dad was whenever she left. It made her happy and she always came back, so my sadness always seemed minimal in comparison to her happiness, at least to me. Not to mention, I had two best friends that never left my side, Natalie (a.k.a. Nattie, Nats, or Snats as we called her) and Jake, and they made sure that I had a smile on my face, so during my mom's absences I can't say I ever had much time to dwell on my solitude.

After about fourteen months my mom came back, but this time things were different.

First off, she usually came back alone. This time, however, she came home with a guy.

I think at this point you can see where this is going.

She'd been having an affair.

Apparently Phil was the man of her dreams, an artist, therefore a far more suitable soulmate than Charlie the police chief.

The thing is my dad was always head over heels over my mom, so he had a rather hard time just letting her go. To me all this was rather surreal. It was as if it was a bad dream that I couldn't wake up from and I refused to believe that my parents were getting divorced, that my mom was moving away. I refused to let it be real. Nattie and Jake tried to keep me busy and away from my parents during the whole divorce proceedings, so that helped a bit and plus they were my friends so they tried to comfort me as much as they could.

The divorce got finalized, my mom moved to Jacksonville, Florida of all places, and yet I still couldn't hate her like I wanted to because she seemed so happy, truly happy.

My dad on the other hand fell into a horrible sate of depression, he started drinking and at first it was just a drink or two with dinner, but it quickly progressed to stronger materials and in much larger amounts. My dad was a rather nasty drunk, so I threw myself into schoolwork, dance, and anything else that would keep me away from home or busy. Nattie and Jake had me come over to their places as much as they could and Nattie even took up ballet just for me, even though she didn't like it much. But that was Nattie for you, she and I were like sisters, so it was nice to have my best friend around.

The first year after my mom left was pretty bad and I figured that it was so bad that things could only get better, right?

Wrong, very wrong.

The year I turned fourteen my dad got into an accident on the job and sustained a serious back injury, so he could no longer be out on patrols and such, which left him a lot more time to wallow, mope, and drink. The more he would drink the more out of hand things started to get. Like I said before, he was a pretty nasty drunk and I'd gotten used to hearing rather unpleasant things come out of his mouth. Venom spewed from his mouth mercilessly. It hurt terribly to hear my own father say such horrible things, but I never let that show.

I kept telling myself that it was just the alcohol talking it wasn't him. I mean how could it be?

This was my dad and he loved me, or at least I thought he did.

I remember it clearly as if it were yesterday the first time he snapped and hit me. I came home from dance, Nattie's mom dropped me off, and I walked into the kitchen to tell my dad that I had gotten the lead in my ballet school's upcoming production, and he snapped, just like that out of nowhere. I felt his hand slap me across my right cheek. I didn't know why, what I had done wrong, and then he just grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me upstairs to my room and flung me in as if I was a dirty shirt. He slammed the door behind him and left. I didn't know what to think or do or say, I was beyond dumbfounded.

It felt as if with that first slap he tore away a part of my heart.

I decided to keep this to myself just because once again I refused to believe that this was real, it was a one time thing, he was drunk, he didn't mean it.

Boy was I naïve.

Things only got progressively worse from there. The hitting just kept getting worse, it soon turned to beatings or whippings almost. It seemed as if my dad got some sadistic pleasure out of hurting me and I couldn't understand why. He'd use a thick leather belt as his torture device for the most part and if I ran it would only get worse. My body was covered in bruises and I ended up with a few sprains and cuts occasionally if he threw me around a bit.

Pain was becoming my best friend.

It was hard to keep up my friendly façade and my friends started to notice changes in my personality. I mean it was hard to fake happiness at that point, but still I tried. One by one, however they started to breakaway, stating that I'd become too weird and reclusive. Jessica and Lauren had made it clear they thought I was a freak. Tyler, Eric, and Mike followed suit shortly after. Angela and Ben were the last to stick around, but they soon went off as well. Only Nattie and Jake stayed by my side no matter what.

One day Nattie noticed some of my bruises when we were changing in gym, it wasn't as if she hadn't seen them before, but these were pretty fresh. I'd always thought that I had come up with pretty good excuses, and I was naturally klutzy so I didn't have to stretch the truth very far. But she saw through my lies and finally forced me to tell her everything, which I did simply because I couldn't stand to lose her like everybody else. I still remember her horrified eyes, full of disbelief and utter disgust. After I told her she begged me to let her tell her parents, but I swore her to secrecy for my sake.

She and I were the only ones that knew and that was how it would remain.

The next year just kept getting worse.

My mom didn't bother to visit. She'd spare a phone call occasionally, but that was it, so it was easy to keep this away from her. Nattie's parents were a different story however, and I could tell they were getting suspicious. I mean they lived next door for christ's sake so they heard the screaming and the yelling, but I managed to keep my secrets well-hidden. Sometimes I would sneak into Nattie's room (our windows faced each other and she noticed me sitting on the porch roof one night and told me to come over). We'd just talk, it was nice to have someone who knew and still loved me. She didn't make me feel like a victim, she just treated me as me, as if nothing had changed, she was my shoulder to cry on. She never pitied me, thank god, it was always empathy with her, so it felt nice.

Jake got progressively more distant, but that was somewhat due to the fact that he got a girlfriend and went to a different high school. I'm pretty sure I'd pushed him away some with my aloofness as well, so I only could only blame myself for our strained friendship.

Yet despite everything that was wrong with my life I tried to find some shred of happiness, some sense of worth, I was in the top five of my class, dance went well, and I had Nattie and as long as I had her and even whatever shred of friendship I had with Jake, I knew that in the end there was hope.

And then came the day that my world finally crashed completely and all hope was lost.

Nattie's parents decided to move. To Arizona. She begged them to stay, but nothing worked and within a month of the news she was gone.

I don't remember too much of the next two years. I didn't really pay much attention to anything other than what I absolutely had to. I became a shell of my former self. The happy, carefree, innocent kid I once was, was gone. I was alive in person, but inside I was dead. My soul was shattered and I was nothing short of a zombie.

I started cutting when I was fifteen and didn't stop, it was a way for me to have some sort of control over my pain.

I felt worthless and like all I was, was a waste of space and oxygen. I had heard those words from my father on more than one occasion so it wasn't just my own assumption.

Nattie's house stayed as empty and desolate as I felt during those two years, I only spoke when spoken to, I tried my hardest just to keep my grades up and make it seem as if nothing had changed. It looked as if I was succeeding in my attempt to become invisible. No one really talked to me at school unless they had to, not that I expected them to. It was easier this way anyways, no attachments.

Dance gave me more reasons to have some sliver of control over my life. Endless hours of practicing "en pointe" hurt like hell, and I had to stay skinny so if I skipped a meal every once in a while or threw up when I ate too much it was justified because I had to in order to do this right.

Jake wasn't stupid and despite our distanced friendship, just like I had thought he had figured out a few things, not everything, but still, it was enough he found out about the cutting and induced vomiting. I remember how upset he had been when he came over one day with Billy, his dad, who happened to for some reason still like Charlie. Then again I guess he didn't know him the way I did. I remember the disappointment in Jake's voice.

Flashback

"Hey Bells, listen can I talk to you for a bit?" He looked somewhat torn as if he didn't really want to, but felt obligated to for some reason.

"Yeah sure Jake, whatsup?" I asked genuinely curious about what was gnawing at his thoughts.

He then stuttered out in an uncomfortable way: "Listen, I've noticed some cuts and scars on your arms and...uh…look I-I know it's none of my business, but we are friends and…uh…well…I don't think its right that you're hurting yourself this way." I knew this was coming when he mentioned my cuts, but I hadn't thought he'd be this forward about it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." That was my brilliant retort. What could I say at this point? I mean I was a horrid liar in a face-to-face confrontation. Another reason I was happy no one really spoke to me.

He let out a cynical snort. "You know Bells I'm not stupid and you can cut the bullshit…look it's not right…why? I just don't understand."

"Please don't tell me you care all of a sudden Jacob." I tried to make myself sound as contemptuous as could. It was a horrible thing to do, but all I could think of was that I had to cut him loose, then I would finally have absolutely no attachments at all and he wouldn't have to feel obligated to care. He seemed shocked by what I had said.

"Bella I do care…how could you think I wouldn't…you're my best friend for crying out loud."

"Oh yeah? You know what Jake, best friends don't leave when their supposed best friend's world is falling apart." I started getting angry and tried to hold back the tears that were sure to come.

"I didn't leave you…jeez…look just because I don't spend every minute with you the way Nattie did, just because I have other people in my life doesn't mean that I don't care about you." He groaned and slammed his hands against the countertop.

"Oh cut the crap, please…if you cared…you would have been there when Nattie left, but you pulled the same stunt that everyone else did…you left. I guess that's just the way it's supposed to be, I sure can clear a room can't I?" My voice broke several times and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

"Bella, you're being ridiculous…" I cut him off before he could continue.

"Am I? Cause I don't think so, and you're right it's none of your business if I hurt myself or not." His hands started trembling as he clenched and unclenched his fists. I could tell he was getting close to losing it.

"Goddamnit why are you so stubborn? You're hurting yourself in more ways than one. I don't know why, but I sure as hell know that it's wrong…you shouldn't be slitting your wrists and puking up what you eat for christ's sake, just because you're lonely or whatever." He didn't yell, but he said it with a certain amount of venom in his voice that made me cringe. The assumption that I was doing all this because I was simply lonely was like pouring salt into an open wound.

"Jake, just go…and stop pretending you care…go and forget about me…leave me like everyone else, like my mom, like Nattie, like everyone else. I guess you're just next in line to leave." He looked at me as if I'd just stabbed him or something. I focused on staying angry to keep the flood-gates from opening. I couldn't let Jake see me fall apart.

Jake let out an exasperated sigh before he spoke quietly and calmly. "Bella," he took a tentative step toward me and stretched out his hand but drew it back, "I'll leave if that's what you want, but I never pretended to care…I really did care and I still do and always will…I'm sorry that you can't see that…look…if you ever want to finally talk…you know where to find me."

End Flashback

He gave up far quicker than I expected, then again maybe that was a good thing. I shouldn't expect much of people.

I remember I didn't want him to give up. I wanted him to just grab me by my shoulders, shake me and pull me into a hug and never let go. I wanted him to tell me everything was going to be ok, that life will get better, but by then our friendship had dwindled almost into nothingness. I wanted someone, anyone to show that they care.

But who was I kidding, that kind of stuff only happens in movies and fairytales and my life was a nightmare.

It's now a month before my seventeenth birthday, August 13.

Hmph.

Three years ago this day my mom finally moved out.

My best friend left not even a full year later.

Some new family is finally moving into the house next door, and I just hope that they don't get scared off by the yelling and the screaming. Not long ago I guess I would have still let myself hope that the people moving in next door would be nice, interesting people, but by now I've given up hoping for anything good to come my way. It seems every time I let myself hope, things just get worse, so why bother? Who cares anyways.

Life's a bitch and then you die.

I wish it were that easy.

Please bear in mind, this is a work of fiction, it's a storyline that has appeared repeatedly on fanfiction, but I appreciate it if you give it a chance. This has been up before, it wasn't finished, this time I intend to bring it to an end. All criticism is welcome, please review.