Hey lovelies. This is my Twilight story. I hope you all enjoy. I'm going to be revising it off and on probably. I don't own Twilight or most of the characters in here. Soooo yeah here you go!

Chapter one

My dad's been a drunk since as far back as I can remember. It's been me and him for about twelve years, and I'm now seventeen. I try to take care of him as best as I can but it's hard. He yells, pouts, and hits, but I still pick him up out of his own vomit once he's passed out.

I've never had a normal life. No birthday parties, no friends, no family gatherings…no mother to talk to. It's been hard and I don't see it getting much better anytime soon.

I've been home alone for almost two straight days, not knowing where my father was or what kind of trouble he could have gotten himself into. I walk around the shack I'm forced to call home. I sleep on the couch on most nights unless we have guests sleeping over which in those cases I take the floor or our beat up Toyota's back seat.

I look in the refrigerator to find nothing but beer, half a carton of milk, a leftover box of a half eaten burger, and some deli. I grabbed the burger and put it in the microwave. As I pressed the timer button I heard the front door open.

"Dad?" I called out but no answer. I knew it was him though, I heard foot steps stumbling around. I pressed the start button and turned around to see my father hunched over the dinner table. I walked over to him draping one arm around his waist and placing his arm across my shoulders, "C'mon lets get you to bed." I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath and it took a lot for me to not vomit.

"I can walk myself," he mumbled pushing me away.

"Dad I can help…" I began but was interrupted by his hand slapping across my face.

He stood up right. "Don't talk b-back to me. I'm an…an adult, I ttake careee of myselff," he slurred and turned towards the door.

"Not really," I whispered under my breath not meaning for him to hear me…he did.

"What was that?" he nearly shouted and slapped me again, harder this time. My cheek stung and I backed away, knowing he wasn't finished.

I was against the wall and I'm not sure how it happened but my foot got free from the controls of my brain and kicked at my father fiercely catching him in the knee. He tumbled over and I attempted to run but had nowhere to go. He's faster then you'd think and was up before I got to the door. He pulled me by my hair and threw me on the couch. "You Bitch," he whispered in my ear and hit me again.

My vision became blurry as my head throbbed. He was about to hit me again when the microwave beeped. His hand stopped in mid-air. He walked to the microwave, which was only about two strides for him. I took this distraction and stumbled off the couch. My body felt too heavy for my feet to carry.

"Is that my hamburger you're heating up?" he asked angrily.

I crawled to the front door. I was now very scared. I heard him rummaging through a drawer until he found what he was looking for. When he came back into my view I saw he had a sharp silver object in his hand. My heart skipped a beat as he came closer. I was going to die. My own father was about to kill me.

"Were you going to eat my hamburger?" he asked coming closer, "I bought that at the bar two nights ago."

He was standing right above me now. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my arms. I heard him chuckle and then…I felt the blade.