The sound of skin on skin did nothing to effect me anymore. I heard it everywhere I went. At home, at school…Just everywhere. My mother and father seemed to like taking turns to beat the living shit out of me every night. The people at school shared their favorite pass time. I just don't understand why…why me. I didn't do anything…I go to school…I do my homework…I get A's…I don't even look at people but I somehow created this mess. It was my fault and I knew it. I wasn't perfect enough. I wasn't…perfect…I wasn't…I would never be perfect. SO WHAT DO THEY WANT!?
I would go home and I would have some peace in life. I could think. I could smile…not that I knew what that was anymore. I could be the person I had been trying to find for about 12 years now. I'm now 17. I was 5. I had a fever and I wouldn't stop crying. My father…hit me…and then my mother watched…as he pounded me into the wall…she…then…put her cigarette out on my forehead. I still have a small scar.
So here I was now…looking at myself in the mirror. I was nothing. Brown wavy hair, brown, dead eyes, and around 5'6" or so. I was pale except the bruises that made me look like a paint horse. I was just Bella…Bella Swan…the nothingness.
This is the story of how nothingness turned into something.
This is the prolouge. I have been listening to Concrete Angel and this story just came to me.