A/N: Hello. :) So, most of you know me from my 'Running From The Truth' story. I just want to thank all of you that have read that story, since it was my first. :) Anywho...
So, this is my new story. It's a dedication to one of my very good friends. I'm not going to say names, because i would NEVER do that online. :) But it's dedicated to her. She just recently stopped self injury, and I am so unbeliavably thankful for that. This story is 100% dedicated to her. I don't know if she'll even read it, but that doesn't matter to me. All that matter's to me is that she's not hurting herself anymore. She's had a hard life, harder than most people, including me. I hope she keeps her promise, and I hope her life gets better. I know things get hard, and it seems like the only way. But you've got me. ;D Anyways, this story is dedicated to her, she knows who she is. So. Enjoy. :)
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Description: "I've Lived Here My Entire Life It Seems, It's Home," she smiled casually, her eyes avoiding mine. I stared at her beautiful face. "How can you be so happy to say something like that?" Her eyes warily met mine, and then dropped again. "It's The Only Sure Thing I have Left In Life," She whispered. Her smile was worn down, she wasn't really happy, as much as she tried to lie.
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Bella Swan, burned and cut herself for most of her life. Started at a young age, and was sent into the hospital at the age of thirteen for massive blood lose. When news broke that her own self injury was the cause, and the doctors found out some disturbing, and quiet alarming news, she was permantly stuck in a hospital. Her body, not able to make enough blood on its own. She wasn't crazy, her life just wasn't fair. She was just a normal teeager. Cancer, not enough blood production, and a few other problems.
Living in a hospital isn't as easy as you may think.
Especailly when your damned to fall for that random guy who came in for his sister.
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Soundtrack:
The last night by: Skillet
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They weren't evenly spaced like most would guess; they overlapped each other, all across her skin. My eyes stared in disbelief. They were deep, noticeably, and not easy to hide. Some were pale, white. Others were red or pink and bright. There were hundreds of them, everywhere. It was disturbing to see them, knowing they were self inflicted. I could picture the razor slowly being dragged across her skin, red oozing from the wound at a slow pace. I shook my head, drawing in a jagged breathe. I felt my hands tingling a little, and I was shaking. My eyes reached for hers, when I finally found them. They were truly dead. They gleamed with the light, but the brown was dull instead of bright like I could imagine them. Her heart had been crushed before, too many times. She'd seen to many bad things in her life, gone through too much. Her brown hair twirled down a little ways past her shoulders.
Red and blonde were mixed into her hair, typical teenager colors. Her lips were perfectly shaped; I wanted to lightly brush my finger across them. Her face seemed to be perfectly shaped. She was shorter than me, but not too short. Her skin was pale, and she looked like a normal girl-except for the scars. Oh and, she was undoubtly and unbelievably beautiful.