Disclaimer: Don't own Twilight.

The song for this story is "Broken" by Amy Lee and Seether

2 Months Before

Jake was drunk. Totally wasted. It was… scary. I'd never seen him drunk before. I'd never thought he'd do this.

"Bells, common. You know you want to," he slurred, pulling me closer, into a kiss. I pushed against him, struggling.

I pushed against him, wondering somewhere in the back of my head why I hadn't taken self defense classes like I'd promised myself. He was so strong, and I… I just couldn't get him off. He grabbed my arms, and I knew that I would bruise. I twisted my arms out of his grasp, and yelled as his nails scratched my skin. "Jake! You're drunk! I'm not…. Not ready! We are NOT going to have sex tonight!!" I yelled, tears falling.

Jake didn't listen. He didn't care. He was drunk. He was messed up. He was hurting me. "WHY? Cause' you have someone else? Are you cheating?! You are, you SLUT!" Jake roared, obviously frustrated. As if in slow motion, his hand came up and curled itself into a fist. Tears blurring my vision, I tried to move out of the way. I blindly moved down, putting my self in a worse spot. Jake was so much taller than me that it made my shoulder a perfect target.

"OUCH! Jake, stop! You're- you're- you're hurting me!" I sobbed, turning my head away from him.

"That not enough for you, slut? Not enough for a WHORE?!" Jake thumped my chest, pushing me to the ground. I landed on my back, the breath knocked completely out of me.

"Jake! Jake…" I managed. I curled into fetal position, sobbing. And Jake totally turned his attitude around.

"Bella! Bella! I'm so sorry! I'm never going to do something like that again Bells, I swear. Forgive me, please," Jake pleaded, his eyes shining with tears. And I believed him.

I forgave him.

I was naïve. I wanted love. I was young. I thought that this was my only chance at love. I loved Jake. Of course I did. Of course I believed him. And things were okay. Until he got his finals back. Until he realized he'd failed. F ailed. The finals. Of our last year of grad school- we were both going into writing. Until he got drunk, even more drunk than the first time.

Every time something bad happened to Jake, even the smallest things, he went to the bar. Every time something bad happened, he drank more than he had the time before. Every time something bad happened, my beatings were worse. But I hid the bruises. The scratches. The red marks. If I couldn't hide it, it was passed off as klutziness. After all, I had a reputation for making dominoes out of a volleyball game.

As the beatings got worse, my lies got better. "I fell… again, I'm sooo klutzy," or, "I'm such a klutz. I fall all the time. How am I supposed to remember all my injuries?"

The lies continued.

The beatings continued.

And with every lie, every beating…. A little piece of me died inside.

BN: Hey peeps! This is another (and pretty awesome) story from mah bud, Sk8. She's awesome, this story is awesome. Why don't you join the Awesome Party and leave an AWESOME review?!

AN: I'd say more. But…. I just can't. Except for this: No flames. On top of what I'm going through right now, it would just kill me. I'd breakdown. There's just too much. I'm a wooden plank, and I'm already hanging by just a few splinters.

And this is just the beginning, the prologue. I have the first real chapter ready. But I'm waiting to see the response I get before I post it. And you have to review. You have to. Or I'm going to take longer to post. Sorry, I don't want to be one of the "don't review, don't get the next chapter" kind of people, but my other stories aren't very popular.