I often asked "Why me?" "What did I do?" Most of these times they were for something bad. I didn't have the greatest life. In fact, it was far from good. With constant bruises all over me, and cuts up and down my arms, I wondered why I was even born. I didn't have any other friends except for my sister, Hermione.
I'm Isabelle. 'Mione calls me Izzy, but she's always away. She's a witch, and I'm a muggle, or so she calls it. She's contently getting owls, and sending them back. I'm often jealous of her, not only because of that, but because mom or dad ever lay a single hand on her. Of course, my dad would never lay a hand on anyone, he wasn't violent.
However, my mother is anything but nice. I'm never good enough for her, and she constantly beats me, my dad doesn't know though. He often stays late at work, and he'd never believe such a thing if I were to tell him.
I'm not a good kid, either. No, not at all. I had many problems, which I solved through unhealthy methods, such as alcohol or drugs. I was hardly ever home, even when I was out of school. I lied a lot, and was constantly in trouble, with the law, with my parents, even with Hermione.
Hermione was my twin, but she was born with magic, which was rare. However, I didn't look like her. Naturally, I did. But with I often died my hair, currently; it was bright pink, with the bangs purple. My eyes were naturally green; the only real difference between us two.
I was also bullied in school. I was anorexic, depressed, suicidal, and I self-harmed quite often.
No one knew that Hermione had a sister; she never really talked much about her personal life at home, because it was so bad.
Right now it was summer, right were our story begins. Careful though, because this is going to be a pretty love story. It's anything but.