DISCLAIMER
I own nothing but what the plot bunnies give me. Stephenie Meyer owns the rest.
PROLOGE.
Bella's POV
My grandma used to say that God only gives us what we can handle. Nothing more, nothing less.
Well if that's true, then I guess I can handle a lot. Though I'm not sure how much more I can take.
My name is Isabella Marie Swan, but I prefer Bella. I'm 17 years old in grade 11, I live in
Phoenix, Arizona with my mom and step dad, and my life sucks. But that all changed when two red eyed vampires showed up in my bedroom. They along with their brother from the Southern Wars, and the coven he was a part of, The Cullens, became everything I ever needed or wanted. Because of them, I have a second chance at life.
CHAPTER 1
Bella's POV
When I was 1, my mom left my dad Charlie, to move to Phoenix, Arizona and took me with her.
Thing's were okay for the first few years, but when I was 5, well, that's when the man parade started.
Every week mom came home with a different guy. Some of them were okay, others, not so much.
But though some of them were pretty bad, no one was as horrible as Phil.
Phil is mom's new husband. She met and started dating him when I was 12, and for a while he was great. Then not even a year after meeting him, they got married and Phil showed his true colors. He started making comments, small thing's, like saying that I was ugly, pathetic and that he was going to get rid of me the first chance he got. The comments lasted about a year and a half before he started hitting me. He'd made sure that if he left a mark, it was somewhere covered by my clothes. I tried telling my mom but she never believed me, and I couldn't tell Charlie, because he was killed while on duty when I was 8. He was the police chief of Forks, Washington which is where I was born, and if he had known what was going on, if he was still alive, he would have come to save me. But he's not alive, and no one's coming to save me, so I'll suffer in silence until Phil either kills me or until I can move out.
When I turned 14 and finally got a chest, things in this house went from horrible to hell in a hand basket in less than 5 seconds. Phil started raping me. I wanted to tell someone, so that maby I woukd be saved, but Phil told me if I ever told, he would kill mom, make me watch, then beat and rape me until I was dead. So I kept quiet.
It's a sunny Tuesday morning and as I sit here in the girls bathroom at school staring at the God-awful plastic stick that will determine my future, I think over the past 6 years and everything that's led me to staring at a pregnancy test. I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if my mom hadn't brought me with her when she left Forks, or what life would be like if she hadn't left at all. But I realize that thinking "what if..." probably isn't going to help me at all, now or ever
God this has to be the longest 3 minutes of my life, and all that's happening while I wait is that I'm getting more and more nervous and scared. If I am pregnant I don't know what I am going to do. I can't keep it, not in the hell I live in and I can't run away because Phil will just find me and things would get even worse than they already are. I know this from experience. I look at my watch to see how much longer I have to wait and realize there's less than a minute left. 45, 44, 43, 42, 41, 40, this is taking so long. 32, 31, 30, 29, 28. I think I'm going to be sick. 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, dizzy and nauseous now. 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 00.
Oh my God. NO! I cannot be pregnant! I can't! But... I am. What am I going to do?
Phil is going to kill me.
If anyone were to ask me what I learned in school today, I wouldn't be able to answer them. All I know is that when I got home, I went right to the liquor cabinet and took the strongst shit I could find, which happened to be 3 very large bottles of Jack Daniels, then went up to the bathroom and grabbed a razor, then went into the medicine cabinet and grabbed the percocett from when I had my wisdom teeth removed and headed to my room, where I locked the door and started to drink.
As I look out my window I notice it's gotten dark out, and I realize I don't know what time it is or how long I've been drinking and popping percs. But when I look at my clock I realize its 10:30 pm andmy mom and Phil aren't home yet. So I stumble downstairs to the phone to see if there are any messages. There are. It's mom saying that her and Phil went to a hotel for the night. Oh well, that just means that they wont know I've been drinking andPhil wont hurt me tonight. I go back upstairs and start on my third bottle of my good buddy jack with a perc on the side.
The next time I open my eyes, I realize I'm on my bed, which is odd because I don't remember moving. I go to roll over to look at my clock and it says that it is 2:17 am. I get up to go to the bathroom, running into the wall then the door as I go and when I finally get to the bathroom, I notice blood on my shirt. My wrists. I must have cut myself, but I don't remember doing that. They look like they need stitches. Shit. How am I going to explain this to my mom? Screw it, theres nothing to be done about it now. So I clean up the blood, take my shirt off to throw in the wash, and head back to my room. Only when I get there, I'm not alone. There are two people over by my window, a man and a woman. When I turn on the light, to see if I'm so drunk that I'm imagining people, I see that they have red eyes, and really pale skin. The last thingi hear before everything goes black is the man saying, "Don't be afraid, sweet pea. We're here to help you." in a really sexy southern accent.