Diclaimer: I own Nothing.

WARNING: This is a Dark Fic. It contains themes that some may find hard to read, such as child abuse, self harm and will probably not have a HEA. You have been warned.

AN: This was the first dark fan fiction I have written. It was hard to write but hope it isn't too hard to read. It will be in two parts. This is part I. *Doesn't include graphic scenes.*

Dear You… Part I.

Dear You,

In getting this letter you're probably wondering what was going through my mind. Running stressed, perfect, pale fingers nervously through your bronze messy hair. Your eyebrows furrowed and your pale pink lips turned down in a frown. I hate that I'm the one to mar your face with such an expression, to make you feel this way, but really, if you think about it, like I have, it's for the best. Now everyone is happy.

I have put a lot of thought into what I am about to do. I have it planned out, I know all the steps now all I have to do is follow them through.

I have decided to write a letter.

I had considered writing one to my father, telling him how proud I was to be his son. How really he couldn't have made me a better kid, even if mom had stayed around. Yes I do miss her ,but I don't blame him for her not being there.

I was even thinking of writing one to my mother. Of how I'm genuinely happy that she has the perfect life now, even if that life doesn't include me.

To my sister. The one person who knew the real me… she probably isn't even surprised.

But then I thought of you, how I should tell you the whole story of us. Me and You, You and Me, in the only way I know I will ever find the courage, from pen to paper.

As I sit here at my wooden desk, facing the windows yet the curtains are closed, the T.V on yet the sound is off, the kettle boiling yet I'm in no need for a caffine boost, I'm thinking of you… I do that a lot. It makes me sound like a 15 year old girl but it's true, you're constantly on my mind. And as I'm thinking of you my heart clenches, an involuntary smile graces my face and a tear slides down my cheek. There is something I've never told you, in so many words but… I love you. I'm sure it's too late now, but I just wanted everything out before I begin. That is one of the main factors in the story of us, my love for you.

Do you remember when we first met? You were new, just moved here and I was enthralled. You drew me in. It's a like some sort of gift you have, you attract people to you. Draw them in, and they don't even know why. You could make a lesbian want you. You were standing at the top of the classroom and were introducing yourself. You moved your hands as you talked, your body was telling us a story. You were something Forks had never seen before. You were Alien, and I loved it. Your messy bronze hair, completely out of control, your emerald jewels went straight to mine and you sat next to me. No one else sat there in school, next to me, maybe you senced it and chose to be friends out of our common denominator of loneliness. Whatever your reasons, perhaps there were many, it changed my life forever. We were soon best friends, never left each others sight, never did anything without the other. It only started that year. When we were thirteen... the touching. It began when he called me back class and made me stay behind, detention for no reason and the special tutoring he heavily suggested to my father I take. His constant intense stare on my face and hot sticky breath on the nape of my neck. He was no fool, our English teacher, he played it well. He kept in control and almost had me believing that he loved me , cared for me and that the kissing and touching, groping and sex were all part of the love we shared, he almost had me, if it weren't for you.

You saved me, as you tend to do most of the time. By just being my friend. Saved me from the man who wanted me on so many ways he shouldn't. It took you a while , but the more we hung out the clearer it became to you, Mr. James Hunter was not safe. Your extended friendship helped me see it… and he hated you for it. I could see it in his eyes, feel it in his stare. He became jealous of you I think. At thirteen I hadn't realized how deep he was. I didn't like it, not anymore, not that I had you. James had convinced me that no one cared about me, no one loved me… no one but him. I didn't know that I had been his pray. All I saw was that I meant something to him, and I felt that with no one else, except you.

Do you remember the day you found me in the school coat room. I was curled into a small ball, trying to make myself seem small, I was so scared and ashamed. He had just given me 'detention' I hated it. But he said he cared, that he loved me, that no one else would. You opened the door. The light crept in with your body making a shadow. I didn't know it was you. You know when you're really young and there's nothing more scary than the dark. Than not knowing what is under that bed, what is in that cupboard. I hated the light. It showed everything, all my flaws… everything wrong with me, showed what I was, a freak, for everyone to see. You entered the coat room and placed a delicate, cool hand upon my shoulder, I knew it was someone I could trust, I knew I was safe. You still make me feel that way. Safe. It's a four letter word, A small one but one that holds so much meaning and importance. Like hope, love, faith, hate, help, death. They're small, but mean everything.

You asked me why I was crying. Your eyes held so much sincerity that I knew I could trust you. I knew you wouldn't hurt me if I told you the truth. But for some reason I held back. I told you what I could. What I thought you could handle, I what I could. How it started with him just asking me the answer to every question, and I nearly always got it right even if I didn't. That was when our class turned on me. I was teachers pet, A kiss ass. Oh how right they were… James then moved onto giving me detention for simple things as dropping my pen, and all the way through my writing lines he'd stand right behind me. I could always feel his hot breath on my neck. He'd take it further and inhale deeply. He'd then bring his lips next to my ear and say with a hot breath, "You're perfect." That's how it started, that's what I told you. I didn't go into details, I didn't tell you that I had more knowledge than a twelfth grade school girl on blow-jobs. I was so scared that you'd see me as the freak that I had become. I let my teacher touch me. A man teacher. Sometimes I liked it…

You stuck with me from then on, never let me be alone. And all you knew was that he freaked me out and gave me detentions when I clearly didn't do anything. If I got detention then you got one too. You stayed by my side, and I am forever grateful. As you know after a couple of months of your constant presence, James hadn't been with me for a while.

One idle Tuesday in the middle of June he came to my house. How he found it I still don't know and I really don't want to. I was home by myself. My dad at work doing extra shifts, trying to keep the family afloat, my mother out probably screwing the milk-man who is now my step-father. Rosie was at a friends house. How different we are for twins, I think the only thing we ever shared was our birthday. It was one o'clock in the afternoon and he was outside my door. My sister had left just ten minutes prior. I had a feeling that James had been there for a while , just waiting until I was alone. He came in and headed straight down the hall to my bedroom, he knew which door was mine. I followed him in and when I reached him, sitting on my bed, I realized he was crying.

" Why don't you love me anymore?"

The answer to that question scared the hell outta me. Mostly because I had none, and any teeny tiny reason I could think of involved you. Even then I never wanted anything to happen to you. He crawled over on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. He smelled of cinnamon and cigarettes, I couldn't tell if it repulsed me or not.

" You're such a good boy, and you love me don't you?" It wasn't a question so I just nodded as he began to unbutton my jeans. I was hard and it made him ridiculously happy. As if somehow my growing teenage libido was a result of my love for him. I didn't love him. I didn't even know then if I liked boys at all. It scared me to think that the reason he chose me was because of my preference for cock, and I didn't even know if it was true. It scared me most because if he could tell than so could everyone else. Or worse…what if he made me gay? I had already started to notice you by then. The curve of your neck, the angle of your jaw, the twinkle of your eyes and the definition of your muscles. James' s mouth was on me now. Licking and sucking at the head then using the flat of his tongue up the shaft. I rolled my head back, my eyes closed, my fingers gripping at the sheets beneath me. I never lasted long when he did this. I could feel the building pressure and just as I was about to let go and fall into ecstasy, that I was surely about to receive, your face popped into my head. It was the first time I thought of you in this situation and not by far the last, and I let go. I had never cum so hard. James swallowed all of it, he then looked into my eyes. It was like he knew exactly what had just happened and for a second I panicked that I had called your name, but the dangerous look in his eyes had gone as soon as it had come. He kissed me then, a hard angry kiss. I was sure it had bruised my lips, and then, he left. That was the last time I saw him, as the next day he was found dead in his apartment, hanging from the ceiling.

The only words he left behind were on a scrap of paper saying. 'You could have loved me.' I knew it was left for me. Did you remember that day? The day we found out he was dead. You thought I'd be happy. But all I felt was hollow. I'm not sure if I missed him, it just felt like there was nothing in me to feel anything. I've never told anyone how it really was. Not even Rosalie, though she guessed . She was the only one that had noticed, we may be polar opposites, we always joked that I was the ying to her yang but she does care about me more than anyone else… It's kinda why she doesn't like you. Rosalie doesn't like competition. She knew how I felt about too, she just didn't want to see me hurt… again.

So I have no idea if it's a plausible piece of work or not.

Review... if you want or not.