A/N: Hey guys, so here it is! The first chapter of This is Me: Rewritten is officially up! I'm so excited! As far as the story goes, updates will be once a week and the chapters will be slightly shorter than the last time I wrote this story. That is so I can really focus on the storyline and it isn't as rushed as it was before and so that I can really focus on writing out the characters and doing them justice. This will also be the only chapter partially in third unless you guys really want it to stay that way. The rest of the chapters will most likely be in first POV. Anyways, I really hope that you guys are as excited as I am, and now I present the first chapter of 'This is Me: Rewritten!'
TW: This chapter has a trigger warning for mentions of and hinted at abuse while other chapters have a warning for eating disordered thoughts. Please do not read if that will trigger you in any way.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight... I only own my OC Elizabeth and any story ideas that I came up with that were not in the original Twilight storyline.
"Remember when you were a kid and the only thing that mattered was if you were going to get that new toy from Target or if you were going to get that state-of-the-arts bike for Christmas? Well, that was never me. Or at least for the first six years of my life, it wasn't.
At school kids were always talking about some brand new game or hight tech computer system, but I couldn't afford to think about things like that. It wasn't because of money, my family had plenty of that, it was because I had to think about if I was going to have food that night for dinner or if I needed to smuggle something from the school cafeteria. It wasn't that my parents didn't have food so much as it was my parent's belief that if I ate every day I wouldn't be skinny and cute enough for them to show off at parties anymore. If I ate every day then I wouldn't be worth keeping around anymore. So no, I didn't care about the new transformers video game that just came out or the new barbie dollhouse with a working elevator."
Elizabeth Grace! Get down here NOW!" A voice could be heard screaming from the kitchen disrupting the quiet peace of the house even though the only other current occupant was all the way upstairs. Which by the way, was two floors above the kitchen.
"Yes ma'am," Came an almost unheard response as small footsteps traveled quickly and lightly down the wooden stairs.
"And no running in this house! Do you understand? Do you want to have to clean the floors because you messed them up?!"
"No ma'am, I pro-miss not to run," a six-year-old echoed, the words already carved into her memory from years of saying them despite the lisp in speech.
"The school called today," Her voice was still unnaturally loud and hard. "What is this I hear about you picking fights with other kids?" the girl opens her mouth to respond but she is cut off without a pause. "Didn't we teach you better than that?"
"I'm not picking fights." The six-year-old say evenly, however, this wasn't the right thing to say.
"So you're saying that the teachers and other students are lying?" It was a statement more than a question and the girl shook her head, blonde curls flying into her face, stinging her eyes.
"I'm not sayin' that, but I'm not fighting and I'm not lying."
"Don't cut your speech. It makes you sound even more like an uneducated brat than you are. I'm done talking to you. You're not listening and lying straight to my face. Our dad will be home soon for dinner, but don't bother leaving your room to join us. You don't deserve it." The woman's sentences were clipped and short, but at this point, the girl was used to it. She simply nodded and walked slowly back up the stairs. Using all of her willpower not to run.
The young girl considered her room to be her one place of solitude. The place where hours could pass and no one could hurt her. Today, however, that solitude was broken. The walls seemed too close together and the air was suffocating.
Logically, the six-year-old was having a panic attack but to her, it felt like the world was ending.
The air was getting harder to breathe by the second and it felt toxic. She was lightheaded and everything was spinning circles. Oh, how she wished it would stop. But it didn't. Instead, hours passed by before shouts could be heard traveling throughout the house.
"What did you do to your mother! She's so upset! Says you were fighting at school and when she calmly confronted you about it, you hit her and ran up here! She had no choice but to ground you and take away your dinner!" A man in his late 30's billowed as he stepped into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
"You deserve way worse than that! And that's exactly what I going to give you!" He shouted. He raised his fist as the girl shut her eyes.
"I'm so sorry," The girl mumbled as she curled in on herself, desperately wanting to disappear.
The man left almost an hour later carrying the broken girl with him. He left her outside in a field not far from the house. It was cold, but not freezing. She wouldn't die, but she deserved to be punished. They could come get her in the morning. Or so that's what he thought. As he laid the girl down roughly everything faded into darkness.
"That girl was me, and apparently, my dad had hit me harder than he thought because some people found me out in the field and called nine-one-one. I had internal bleeding and was comatose a week. When I woke up I came face to face with the people who had found me. Carlisle and Esme. Of course, when social services found out what my parents had put me through I was removed from their care and soon after I was sent to live with the Cullens. A Year later they adopted me and I've been living a crazy life with my wonderful, strange family ever since."