A/N: Hello readers, welcome. I hope you all enjoy the new version of Blossom. It is filled with more twists and tears, and a slightly different storyline. But I know you will all love to read it. I would like to thank my former beta 'Mommy of Kahlan'. She has helped me a lot during the changing of the storyline, replacement of the chapters and all the confusion that was going on in my head. Cyber hugs to you! This chapter has been beta-ed by Eesha, my best friend. Thank you so much girl! She is not a member on the site, but an unofficial beta and pre-reader for me.

Disclaimer: 'Twilight' is owned by Stephenie Meyer. No profit is made from this work of fiction. It is solely for the purpose of entertainment. The story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to names, incidences, personalities, locations, etc. is purely coincidental.

.

PROLOGUE

Bella's POV

Bruised and scarred

With her voice in a whisper.

She goes on and on.

On and on. On and on with life.

Her world filled with dread.

But her mind sterile…

Her life in peril…

She goes on and on.

With not a tear to shed.

Not a smile to share.

She goes with the flow

Wondering what the next nightmare might be.

Wondering when the sun would finally warm her.

Wondering when she would get wings.

And fly away.

On and on. On and on with the air.

-I.M.S

It is very silent around me. I can even hear the pen running against the paper, making it blue. Even the paper is colorful- more than my life. I absently place the book next to me. But it falls down with a thud.

Gasping, I reach down to pick it up. My head throbs with the sudden motion and my side aches. Picking up my book, I get up and look at myself in the mirror.

I don't want to lift my shirt and examine the damage that James has done. But I have to. Otherwise, the wound might get infected. It throbs like hell, and I want nothing more than to imagine that this is all just a nightmare and I will be in my purple bed when I get up.

But I have wished for the same thing for four years.

I clutch the shirt tightly, as if it will protect me from my horrifying wounds. I grit my teeth as my skin comes into view. It is as if a curtain is being lifted to reveal the set of a play. This is a play, I realize. It tells how sadistic James and Victoria are.

The bruises are blue and black- just like the poem on the paper- with dried blood caked to my skin. They remind me of darkness. Whenever I see these bruises, I always get the vision of a silhouette of a tall man in front of a dark blue, stormy sky. He walks towards me slowly, his posture suggesting that he is dangerous.

I bite my lip and stop the gathered tears from flowing down my cheeks. I will not show my weakness to James and Victoria. They should see that the mental and physical abuse that they inflict upon me doesn't affect me.

But the problem is, it does. It claws at my heart and rips my stomach from the inside. It scares me- terrifies me, actually. It makes me feel weak and inferior. It makes me feel as though I deserve nothing. I will my mind and body to fight against them, but my body has given up long ago. My mind, on the other hand, started decaying slowly, but it has gotten very close to the end now.

It hurts.

And what hurst more is that they know it hurts.

~B~

I remember my mother reading stories to me when I would be cuddled into her side at night. I don't remember her voice; only that it calmed me down at any time. She was bouncy and energetic all the time, always eager to try new things and activities.

I remember the last time I saw her. I was six.

My father was the Chief of Police in our small town of Forks in Washington. I was more like him, having his deep brown eyes and his inability to express feelings openly. His awkward hugs and kisses once in a while, his concerned eyes and the creases on his forehead when something happened were his way of telling me that he cared- that he loved us both.

Charlie and Renee Swan were the best parents anyone could ever have. Mom was bouncy and energetic while dad was calm and quite. Opposites attract. They both loved me a lot. But I guess god takes back all he gives- because he took away my parents from me.

It was hard to lose them so suddenly.

But learning to live without them was harder.

~B~

I remember it all- my parents' laughs, their voices, their hugs and kisses, their scolding and the time I spent with them.

Now-a-days, these memories are my only safe haven. The people that adopted me are monsters. They abuse me. They don't care about me at all. They seemed normal at first, but it changed after about two years.

I work from seven in the morning to ten at night now, save for the time that I go to school and am allowed to complete my homework.

Food has become a privilege, water my daily diet. Sleep is something I call heaven as well as hell, because it is the only time I am alone, but also the time for the monsters in my nightmares to creep out. The minute I close my eyes, they come to haunt me, telling me what is my worth.

My beautiful memories are the only things that make me face the day ahead. Every time James slaps me, I imagine it is actually Charlie stroking my cheeks. Every time Victoria calls me a bitch or a whore- I didn't even understand the meaning of those words until I turned fourteen-, I imagine it is Renee calling me sweetie or honey.

Every time they go out to party, leaving me locked inside the house, I imagine that it is me, Renee and Charlie together, visiting the park. Every time I am made to feel inferior and someone who has become a burden to them, I imagine it is my parents scolding me for a mistake I did, so that I would correct it and become a better person.

And every time they kick me in my ribs, punch me in my stomach, leave marks on my hands with blades and force me to eat food that tastes like shit, I go back to my own personal bubble, enjoying better times only through my memories.

By the time I was thirteen, I stopped thinking that a 'Eugene' would come and rescue me (Rapunzel) from my tower and take me away to the beautiful world outside.

But I know that would never happen.

I have lost hope. I have stopped looking forward to the next day- because I knew what would happen. My destiny was carved in stone. It was the same routine everyday- waking up, getting hit, holding my tears in, biting my already swollen lips and then looking at the window in the hope of a better tomorrow- which I knew, would never come.

So, I would like to ask you all one question.

If you were told to shed a part or yourself, give away something in your possession, to get back your life, to get back happiness and peace, what would you give?

I, Isabella Marie Swan would like to answer.

I would even sell my soul.

A/N: How is the new version? Yes, Bella writes poems. I thought it was a good change. She has a way of expressing her thoughts. Also, I have some ideas regarding this for the later chapters. Updating will mostly be once a week. I don't have many chapters written yet, and so there is no fixed schedule. But I have done a lot of research on the legal punishments, etc. regarding abuse. So I am prepared.

Please feel free to ask me any questions regarding the new version, the change in the names of characters- I hope you noticed that- and anything else regarding the story. I will answer each question in detail. Please review, follow me and the story. Text me if needed. Thank you.

…

Original text

Contribute a better translation