Hey guys! Thanks for reading this story. I really like this story and I hope you do too. This story is based off of a true story, so the beginning of the story really happened, but I am tweaking it a little bit so it fits my story. I also have to warn you, this chapter has violence implied in it and some cursing . . . hence the warnings. . . . Okay Ya that is it . . . read!

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER! I wish, but then again I will become rich and JK when pigs fly.

C.J.'s POV

Okay, let me give you a little background on my life. I was born on this day, July 21, 9 years ago. Yes, I'm 9 years old. I am also the girl my parents never wanted. My name is Caroline Jean. I know, I hate my name too. (AN: I hope I did not offend anyone out there whose name is Caroline Jean. Sorry!) So I go by C.J. Well, not really. You see, I have no friends to call me that. My parents make sure of that. I go—well I used to go to school, but we recently moved and I have yet to be enrolled.

Anyways my dear mother Megan is pregnant again, and it's a boy this time. We currently live in a remote part of England and I don't exist- literally. My parents are a "new married couple" with "no children." You see, I live up in the attic. It's not very big, rather cramped, actually. They have planned my whole life up there. My unborn brother will never know that I am even exist. I will get three square meals a day that consist of bread, water, and anything else that my parents can find for the rest of my insignificant [or so they call it] life. I am actually surprised that my parents didn't come up with this sooner, as they were never very loving before.

My situation up here is pretty sad. They just tied me up in the attic. I can't move or make any sound. I have very little to do, and I can't tell when it's day or night. Well, actually, that is the way it was intended to be, but I have many books up here and there is a bed, though of a puny size. Also, there are boxes that I can go exploring in; these will show me my parents past. I will work on making it more homie so that I can actually work with this. Oh, did I mention I can untie myself when I really want to? I'm not sure how it works, but I just will it to untie itself.

Over the next couple months (or at least I think. I had little concept of time up here, it could have been longer) of these living arrangements, I have taught myself quite a bit. Ironically enough, my parents had put all their old school books up here, thinking that, should I ever chance on escape, I wouldn't dare with those musty leaves.

I have arranged my attic to look messy enough so that if my parents ever came up they would not notice a difference. However, I also infused in it my own personality (at least I think it's my personality, the only true way you get to know your self is by friends, which I don't have). There are posters on the walls and I have a bed. Of course, the chair that I am supposed to be tied to stays in the same place. I have two blankets that I could curl myself in for when it gets cold, but the only problem is light. But I have a solution to this problem.

In the upper left corner of my room was a ladder that led up to the window. When you got up there, it opened up to a space that was big enough for two adults to sit up there with one another. It was my favorite place and that is where I spent most of my time. The window that went with it was pretty big, but didn't let in much light and looking out of it gave me a view of the street and everything else close. It's really pretty. However I can't stay up there all the time, so my light problem is not really solved. I do have an electrical outlet and a lamp, but I can't find a light bulb that would continue working and not blink on and off when I use it too long. Other than that small problem I am content.

I'm actually getting used to living up here all the time. I kind of like it. My parents rarely come up here; actually, they have not come here since we arrived in the neighborhood. They hand me food through the cubby and say nothing else. They'll eventually come up here, though, to check and see if I'm dead yet, and when they did, well, I am not sure what I'll do. I'd like to think that I'd be brave and stand up to them, but after being downtrodden upon by them all my life . . . you get the picture.

There's a commotion going on downstairs. I'm not sure what it is. Sounds like company, which most likely means one of my parents is going to come up. I quickly make it look like I never moved from the chair and pretended to be nodding off.

Sure enough, I heard the door opening to the room that nobody was aloud to go in, it was locked at all times. They say it's just my father's man whole, whatever that means. I braced myself to see my father. The room is suddenly filled with light.

"Troy? Is that you?" I never called my parents mom and dad, they were Megan and Troy, they liked it better that way too.

"Bitch, how dare you!"

I don't know how long I lay there, but the light has faded ever so faintly. I judge it was about two hours after it all. Once Troy left me, I remained lying on the floor, curled in the ball meant for protecting myself. I don't even attempt to move for what felt like hours, but, in reality, it was probably only minutes. Once I moved, I limped over to the ladder and struggled up to the widow seal.

Once in the light of the setting sun, I gazed over my body. My arms are purple and blue, with scrapes and gashes over my legs. The pain from my stomach is growing rapidly so I lifted my shirt only to see two deep gashes and burns on both my sides. The burns weren't fire burns, they almost looked like rug burns, but they weren't. They were from my dad placing grits on my open wounds. (AN: Grits is looks like flower and if you lean on them long enough it is like a carpet burn, if you leave them in an open wound then it leaves a scar and burns you. They are used in The Secret Life of Bees, okay you can read again.) I touched them carefully.

Bad idea.

From experience I decide that there is only on thing to do. I place myself in a pleasant position, as to not hurt myself when I move, and drift off to sleep.

I'm not sure how many days or months have passed since that dreadful day, but most of my bruises have healed. I even celebrated my birthday, even though I have no idea what month it is in. I'm pretty sure it's in the summer though, because it was really hot in this stuffy old attic.

I still have scars on either side of my stomach from where the grits had burned me. I've just added those two to my collection; I would have to say that, that beating was the worst I had ever endured, and I knew from that moment on I would have to run away if I was ever going to survive.

Hey everyone! You now know a little bit about C.J. Did you like it? Please let me know what you think in a review! If you have any questions please feel free to ask me I reply to all my reviews. REVIEW!!