Tell Them To Remember The Stars
This story contains child abuse. I can't tell you right now if it will get graphic or not, but I'll put up a warning at the top of chapters that I think may bother people.
Lucie is my own character.
I've had personal experience with child abuse, so some of this is taken from my own experiences. Please do not be offended by anything that is said, or done in this fic. It will not always be sad, and depressing, though the beginning of it will be.
Alice can see the future and the past.
The entire Cullen family will be involved, minus Bella.
Thank you, and enjoy :)
Warning, this chapter contains memories of an abusive past and speaks about things that may bother or disturb some people.
She sees a vision all too real
of a helpless little girl
Taken from her innocence
into her shattered world.-Christina
Chapter One: In the eyes of A Wounded Child
"Momma?" The little girl called out cautiously, peeking around the corner of the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Momma?" She asked again when she saw her Mother sitting alone at the kitchen table, a long shiny stick in her hand. Her Momma turned toward her, and the little girl flinched back when she saw her Momma's red rimmed eyes, and the bruises that lined her forearms. Her Momma took the bright, shiny stick and stuck it in her arm, causing the little girl to gasp and her eyes to widen. Her Momma sighed, leaning her head back and the front door banged open as her guy friend came through the door. The little girl knew not to come out of her room with the guy friends came over, because Momma said they liked to play grown up games and she wasn't allowed to. So the little girl retreated to her room, curled up in bed hugging a ragged teddy bear, and slept.
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My name is Lucie, and I am twelve years old. I have a mother, and a father, but I don't live with them anymore. Well, actually, I never knew my Daddy, and I guess I don't really know my Mom either. But, that's besides the point.
Anyway, a couple of months ago I tried to kill myself. I just felt so empty, you know? I was just so tired. So, so tired, and I just gave up. Hell, I'm still giving up. First I stopped eating for a couple of weeks, I didn't really notice, to be honest. I didn't do it on purpose. I just didn't feel like eating. Not that we really had any food to begin with anyway.
Then I started cutting, simply because I could control it. I know, it sounds stupid, but it was the only kind of pain I could -can- control. It was like every time I cut, it wasn't just blood leaving my body, it was pain, fear, hate, anger, depression...everything. It became an addiction, and even know my arms itch with the urge to cut.
So, I tried to kill myself. A lot of people told me that I didn't mean to do it, that it was a cry for attention, and that I had no idea what I was doing. That it was all a mistake, and that I was just upset. They're wrong. I did want to die, hell most of the time I still do.
They found stuff though, that night that I was in the hospital, and they took me away from home. I stayed at a clinic for a while, then at a group home, then at two foster homes. Now I'm on to my third, a home with the Cullens.
Now, I have no idea who the Cullens are, or why they would ever want to take me in. I'm a pretty fucked up kid. I manage to wake entire households with the screams from my nightmares, I sometimes wet the bed (I know, ew, right?), I have trouble eating, and I still have the urge to cut. I am moody, rude, and I have an attitude problem. I'm sure all of these things are in my file. So why would they want me? I could only justify it that they had some sort of deal with the foster system, or that they were doing someone a favor or something. Whatever. It couldn't bear there choice.
So, I know found myself standing at the front door of a large white house with two suitcases, shuffling my feet. I smoothed my long black hair, blinked slowly, and took a deep breath, then knocked on the door.
I heard light foot steps coming from inside, and heard muffled voices speaking. then the door opened.
A tall woman with chocolate brown hair and brown eyes stood before me, smiling.
"You must be Lucie?" I nodded, "Please, come in." I hesitated for only a second before entering, pulling my suitcases along behind me. A tall man with blonde hair, whom I presumed to be Carlisle, Esm's husband, stood beside her.
"The rest of the family are in the living room, dear, waiting for us. We'll make introductions and then I'll show you up to your room, I'm sure the journey has tired you a bit, hmmm?" I nodded, telling the truth. It had. It had been an extremely long plane ride, and then a two hour car ride. I was exhausted.
I brushed my hair down and straightened my white tank top before walking up the stone steps to the front entrance.
"No need to be nervous, Lucie." Esme assured me as Carlisle began to walk. I rolled my eyes at her and sighed.
We walked in, Esme's high heels clicking on the dark hard wood floor. The hallway leading to the living room was white, and lined with pictures. In the living room sat five teenagers, lounging on a leather couch and two arm chairs. Upon our entrance they all stood up quickly.
I crossed my arms, cocked my hip, and stood there examining them as Carlisle and Esme made introductions.
Emmet was first. He approached me with a wide smile accented with large dimples, and open, friendly eyes. He was huge. He stood at 6'5 and had muscles to rival any body builder known to man. Dark brown, curly hair sat over a prominate forehead. His entire appearance screamed 'Hey. I'm huge, but come hug me anyway!', but I knew better than that. I rudely declined his handshake, which didn't seem to faze him at all, and sighed as the next boy approached.
Edward was tall, but not quite as tall as Emmet, probably maxing out around 6'2. His face was sharp and angular, high cheekbones, strong jawline, straight nose and full lips. His bronze colored hair was in casual disarray, and he simply watched me as we stood in front of each other. Our eyes met and we seemed to reach some sort of an unspoken agreement. He did not reach out to shake my hand, or even smile at me in any way. He in no way seemed like he was ok with my being here, and I liked him all the more for it. He nodded at me, I nodded back and he retreated to his earlier place on the couch.
I sneered at the next girl who came up. She was 'perfect'. Long blond hair, slender, legs that went on for miles, perfect complexion and a well proportioned face. No doubt all the guys at school drooled at her on a daily basis. There was no doubt in my mind that she would be a conceited bitch.
"You look like a hooker." She told me flatly. I gasped in shock at her blatant dislike for me, and balled my fists up by my sides. I opened my mouth to retaliate and felt a cold hand come around my left wrist.
Now, I'll let you know something now. I don't do well with being touched. In fact I hate being touched. One would think it would be rather obvious if you just looked at the way I stood, and the aura I gave off, but apparently not. Therefore, my reaction wasn't completely unfounded.
First I flinched, then I tensed. Then I whirled around, my right fist flying through the air and making a satisfying 'crunch' noise as it made contact with a pixie like girls nose. I was breathing hard, and trying very hard to cover it up.
The room was silent for a moment, then Carlisle rushed over to the black haired girl who was clutching her nose, blood running down her face. Emmet jumped up and glared at me, the blond girl gaped at me, Edward was stalking over towards me, and the blond haired boy was standing next to the black haired girl, looking ridiculously anxious.
"Eh..." I wasn't really sure what to do. This certainly was not the way I had planned on presenting myself to my new family.
"Sorry?" I really was sorry. I was just...startled.
"It doesn't look to be broken." Carlisle muttered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to the black haired girl. Seriously, who carried handkerchiefs around anymore?
"Alice, tilt your head back and hold your nose." Ah, so Alice was her name. She leaned her head back as directed and held it to her nose tightly.
"Lucie, I'm sorry if she startled you, but I want to make it clear right now that violence is not tolerated in our home, is that clear?" Esme told me sternly. I stood there, considering for a moment. I suppose it was to be expected that they wouldn't want me to be harming their family, so I nodded.
"Yep."
Rose humphed, turned and stormed up the stairs dramatically. I had to fight to keep a smug smirk off of my face.
"Esme, dear, I'm sure Lucie is tired, why don't you take her on up stairs and I'll finish fixing Alice up, ok?"
Esme gave him a soft smile and nodded before gesturing to to follow her up the stair case.
"There are three floors to the house. The bottom floor consists of the kitchen, foyer, living room, a bathroom, a dining room, and a recreation room. The second floor," she began, gesturing around her as she spoke, "is the floor with most of the bedrooms." I looked down the hall to see white doors lining the way, all perfectly spaced between one another. The dark hardwood floor was a drastic contrast to the red of the walls. At the end of the hall there was a sit in window seat, and a black table with a vase of forget me nots on top of it.
"Your bedroom is the last one of the right. It used to be the guest room, so I hope you still like it, but if not, we can certainly change the color scheme or whatever you want." She assured me as she opened the door to the room.I entered and saw that the hardwood floor extended into this room as well. The walls were a light, sea foam green, and a large double bed was covered in a white duet and throw pillows. There was a dresser, a closet, and book shelves. There was also another door, that I assumed led to a bathroom. It was simple, but elegant.
"Mine and Carlisle's room is on the third floor, along with some storage space. If you need either of us at any time, feel free to come and wake us up. We won't be angry with you, at all." I nodded, though I doubted I would ever take Esme up on her offer.
"Well...you already ate at the center, right?" I nodded. A wonderful meal of stale bread and nasty soup. Yum. But it was better than nothing. I had hardly eaten any of it anyway.
"Alright then, I guess I'll leave you to unpack." With that she exited the room, shutting the door and leaving me alone.
I took my suitcases and dumped them out on the bed, disregarding the fact that the bed was white and I would probably get it filthy. Well, it was their fault anyway. People should know better then to use anything white besides sheets on a bed.
I sorted my clothing into folded piles. Skirts in one pile, t shirts in another. Then tank tops, jeans, sweat pants, pj pants, shorts, leggings, and underwear went into other piles. It didn't take me all that long, because I didn't really have all that much stuff.
I put everything away in the dresser, after changing into more comfortable clothing. Sitting on the bed, thinking, I found myself tracing the still healing scars on my wrist.
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"Lucie!" Mark hollered, banging on the door. I jumped, my heart pounding. He was drunk, and he always got worse when he was drunk. All of the guys my Mom brought home did.
"Lucie!" Bang. Jump. Thud.
The door knob jiggled and I closed my eyes tightly, curling in on myself. I scooted as far back under my bed as I could get and wedged myself in the corner of the room that my bed was push against. Quickly, I pulled an old sweater that had, at some point, been thrown under my bed and covered myself up as best as I could. It was a feeble attempt at hiding, but it might just work.
I heard wood crack violently as the door was pushed open forcefully and he entered, stumbling.
"Lu? Lucie?" He asked, sound confused. I could almost picture him scratching his head, his blood shot brown eyes darting around in confusion. I shifted and held my breath when I banged my head loudly against the top of the bed.
"Ah, Lucie, you shouldn't hide from me." He said in a scolding voice, "It's not nice." My chest tightened in fear when I saw him bend down, getting on his hands and knees, and look under the bed at me. Clearly my attempt at hiding under the sweater hadn't worked. He reached a grimy, oily, sweat covered hand under the bed and grabbed my ankle. I kicked out forcefully and succeeded in kicking his hand away. He scowled and growled in frustration, this time grabbing more tightly. I tried desperately to dig my fingers into the stained carpet, but to no avail. He quickly had me out from under neath the bed, and shaking on the floor in front of him.
He licked his cracked, red lips and stood, his hand wrapped around one of my skinny wrists. He dragged me to my feet, and my heart skipped a beat and I held on to my breath.
"Lucie, Lucie, Lucie. You know better than that." It was true. I did know better than that. But my eleven year old mind couldn't push away the need to hide, and to keep myself safe from him. There was no way i would ever go willing to this man.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, looking at the floor. My long black hair dangled in front of my eyes, so all I could see was his brow, leather shoes.
"Sorry's not good enough." He growled, suddenly sounding very, very angry. He backhanded me, and I managed to stay on my feet, not saying anything. He forcefully jerked my face up, so I had to look him in the eyes. "Your Momma's not home, Lucie." He whispered menacingly. It didn't really matter if Mom was home, anyway. She never did anything to stop it, she never really seemed to care what would happen to me.
He ran a hand through my hair and struggled to suppress a shudder. I closed my eyes, a single tear leaking out and running down my face.
I felt him grab the front of my shirt, and he lifted my tiny body onto the bed behind me. I waited until I felt his breath on my face, then kicked out with one of my feet, hitting him where it hurts. He groaned and grabbed the ends of my hairs, pulling it hard as he fell back a little. I let out a little squeak of pain when he stood up and threw me to the floor by my hair.
A kick landed in my stomach and I gasped in pain as I felt something give way and crack beneath his foot. He kicked me again, this time in the same spot that I kicked him in. Since I'm a girl, you may not think that this really hurts, but trust me, it does.
"Worthless chit!"He growled out when he grabbed my shoulder and lifted me off of the floor, throwing me into the wall.
Go away go away go away go away. I chanted in my mind, praying that I would be able to cover everything up when I went to school in the morning.
Stars appeared in front of my eyes and I blacked out of a moment, coming to as h was pulling off my shirt, ripping it down the middle and exposing my bruised and bony abdomen. No no no no no no no, I cried in my mind, trying desperately to scramble away. Not again, not again. Tears were coursing freely down my face now, and I couldn't keep the sobs inside.
I couldn't get away, I tried, but I couldn't, and I didn't.
I never got away.
I woke up screaming. Shocker.
As i bolted upright in the bed I slapped a hand over my mouth to shut myself up. i kept screaming against my hand, then turning over and shoved my head into the pillow. My heart was hammering heavily beneath my ribs, and i thought I was going to crap myself when the door creaked open.
"Lucie?" The voice was tentative, light and female with a slight nasal quality to it. It must be Alice, I decided.
How embarrassing. The girl who I punched in the face on meeting her comes in to comfort me in the middle of the night. How lovely.
"Go away, now." I told her sharply, the words somewhat loosing their effect through the pillow. I was covered in sweat, and I felt a pool of warm liquid underneath me. Shit. I had wet the bed.
"Lucie, you were screaming." No, really? I hadn't noticed. "And," she sniffed, then hesitated, "I'm going to go get Dad." I lifted my face from the pillow to tell her to stop, and to not get them but she was already gone.
"Shit. Shitshitshitshit."I groaned, stuffing my face back into the pillow. I wanted nothing more then to disappear right now, as I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Lucie?" It was Carlisle. I stayed silent, mortified. "Lucie, Alice said that you had a bad dream, and that you may have had an accident." An accident? What was I, four? No, you're twelve. Three times four, actually, and you should not be wetting the bed. Idiot.
"Nope, I'm fine. I'm just going to go use the bathroom." I knew he didn't believe me, my voice was scratchy from screaming, but i wanted to get out of the bed and away form the situation as fast as possible.
I scrambled out of the bed and through the bathroom door. I shut the door, leaning against it with a sigh as I heard Carlisle start ruffling around in the bedroom, changing the sheets.
I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, sneering at my ugly reflection, then took off my top and bottoms and underwear and washed my wet legs with a wash cloth.
I examined myself in the floor length mirror, my face twisting at my mess of a body. I was covered in scars. A long one stretched from my belly button to just under my ribs, and there were slightly faded belt marks on my thighs. I knew that if I turned around my back would be covered in the same markings, with some burn marks mixed in for good measure.A long scar curled from my right temple, down past my ear and around my neck. the reason I always wore my long hair down. On the inside of my left wrist there were perfectly straight, jagged scars. Some crisscrossed each other, some were pink and healing, others faded and white. The reason I always kept my arms close to my body, or wore a long sleeved shirt.
I could count my ribs, which didn't bother me all that much, but still. I knew that most people wouldn't find it pretty. It wasn't that I was interested in a boyfriend, I though with a shudder, I don't think I'll ever really be interested in getting a boyfriend. But it would be nice if people thought I was pretty. Yeah, I would like that.
I ran my eyes up and down my body once again, and sighed. There was no way anyone would ever think I was pretty.
I jumped at the sound of a knock on the door.
"Lucie, your bed is ready. We have to talk though." Oh no, we are not talking.
"It's alright, you can leave." I told him, knowing that he wouldn't listen.
"Lucie, I need to speak with you." He told me sternly. What about? Was he mad at me? What did he do to his kids when they were in trouble? I though frantically, trying to figure it out. He was a doctor, I'm sure he could find a way to cover everything up.
Shit.
"No, you don't." I told him sharply, as I grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around myself.
I gather my wet clothing, holding them in front of me. I had to get out of the bathroom, then maybe he would leave me alone. I could tell the light was still off in the bedroom, so there was no chance he could see my body very well, and my hair covered the scars on my face.
I opened the door and pushed past him.
"Move." He let me by and I dumped the clothing into a basket beside the dresser, then got another pair of underwear and pants out from the dresser, slipping them on underneath the towel.
"Turn around." I demanded rudely. He did so and I kept my eyes on him as I changed my shirt, making sure he wouldn't turn around. Good. He didn't.
"Go away." I told him sharply, climbing back into bed. Maybe if he saw that Iw as going to go back to sleep he would leave.
No such luck. "Lucie, I'm not going to leave. We need to talk about this." He told me with a sigh, running a hand through his rumpled blonde hair. He went and turned the light on and shut the door.
"Please leave." I asked him in a small voice, brining the covers up to my chin and curling my knees up against my chest.
"Please leave." She asked me in a small voice, trying to hide beneath the covers. I hid my slight confusion behind a concerned expression. Where had the demanding, angry girl gone? Why did this scared child come out?
"Do you want to talk about your dream?" He asked me gently. No, I did not want to talk about it. I had already relived it once, why would I want to do it again?
"No."
"You know you can come and talk to me and Esme at any time, right?"
No. "Yeah."
"You don't have to be embarrassed about these things, it's all perfectly natural."
It is not natural for a twelve year old girl to wake up screaming and wet the bed. "Uh huh."
"You don't have to be afraid of me." He aid softly. I froze. Yes, I do.
"Sure." Please leave.
"Lucie..." I saw him take a step forward and my heart sped up.
"We just want to help." Well, that was complete bullshit.
"Yeah." He sighed.
"I guess I'll see you in the morning. Well, it's already morning, I guess," he said with a glance at the clock. Four o'clock. "Good night. Please call if you need anything."
"Yep." Then he turned the light off and exited the room. Thank god.
So, chapter one.
Yeah, there it is...did you like it? Did it effect you at all?
Review, please.