Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer Owns All
EPOV
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I groaned as I heard the alarm clock go off signaling that it was now 5:45 and it was time to get up. I nearly shouted out in pain when I went to it up. I'm pretty sure he broke a rib last night. I took my breaths in long hisses as I struggled to stand up. When I was finally standing straight without wobbling I went to the bathroom I shared with the man I wish I could call a father. I nearly fell down as I saw how red the bathroom was.
The carpet was stained with so many red splotches that to the outsider it was just art. The thick sporadic wide stripes on the walls could be called modern if you think about it. It looked like thick rollers had been taken from the top and then gently pushed down only to let the maroon paint collect at the floor. But, if you looked at it with a keen eye it looks sort of like a red paint covered teenage boy leaning against the wall for support and then sliding down to the floor when he wasn't strong enough to stay standing. If only the ignorant people of the world would realize that people did get hurt and that the paint that they decorative was really just the blood of a boy that forgot to say thank you or forgot to make breakfast or anything else that the normal boy didn't have to worry about.
I took a few wobbly steps into the shower and turned the water on while gripping to the bar for dear life. I felt the water pour over me and take away all the blood but never the pain. I always wondered why that was. I'd heard of people that go to the shower to relieve stress and that they fill their worries wash away. I have no worries. I find no point in worrying I learnt the cycle long ago. I go to school come home and get beaten for being me. Why worry about what you know is going to happen. The only time I get to be away from him I'm in so much pain I can hardly stand so why add the weight of worry to my shoulders. So, I simply stand here as the water cleans away all of my blood and makes me clean and ready for another beating. I looked in the mirror as I walked out.
The mirror showed me a tall pale boy with brownish orangey hair and green eyes. According to the girls at my school I was good looking. They all attacked me when I first came to the school. I didn't see a good looking kid. When I looked in the mirror all I saw was my black and purple stomach, the scratches on my face and arms, and the bandage on my upper arm from where the knife had gone in. Yeah, I didn't see beauty in the mirror. All I saw was pain.
In this world that's all there is. When you get to be a person like me and all you feel is pain you learn that maybe feeling isn't such a swell thing. I find no reason in forcing myself to feel when I'd rather be numb. The numbness can never cloud over the hurt from my father though. No matter how hard I concentrate I can still feel blow after blow raining down on my body. I wish so badly to fight back but I can't. I have too much on the line. So, I've learned to simply cut off from the world. It's the main reason everyone left me alone after my first week here. I'd practically refused to speak to anyone. Soon the rumors flew that I was emo and a cutter or that I did drugs. By now I had no friends at the school but I didn't care. I didn't need relationships with people it simply brought them too close. Id seen boy and girl walking down the hall ways holding hands and by the next week the girl was crying and they were avoiding each other. I don't believe in love. I just don't believe in feeling.
I grabbed a black hoodie and black jeans from my closet along with a white t shirt and headed down stairs. By now it was 6:15 and I had to hurry. I quickly grabbed the ingredients for a chicken and tomato omelet and got to work cooking. By 6:45 I had three small and perfect omelets on the table. Just as I heard him walking down the stairs I finished setting the table and giving him his milk.
We ate in silence but I could see him smirking every time I went to lift the fork and would wince as I tried to use all of the strength that I had in my arm. When breakfast was finally done he stood up and was done with his meal. He smiled at me before bringing up his hand and smacking the glass cup off of the table.
"Don't be late to school" he said before walking out the door
I sighed and got to work clearing up the glass. By the time the entire kitchen was clean it was already 7:45. School was at 8:10. I had to hurry to finish the four mile walk in time.
I made it to school panting just as the bell rang. I walked the halls hearing teenagers chatter on and on with "what's new". Everyone was louder today.
I racked my brain trying to learn why everyone seemed to not be able to sit still. According to a senior in my English class there was a new girl coming in today. I see it was just the kids all getting excited over the new toy. One name slipped through the lips of a junior: "Isabella Swan"