Introduction

Bella POV

The last word I heard before everything faded to black were laced in hate. Malice. Contempt. Disgusting words no sixteen year old girl should hear. I should not be here. I was meant to be at school. I should be sitting behind a desk gossiping with my friends and exchanging beauty tips. Arguing with my dad about the length of my skirt and giggling with my Mother in the kitchen whilst she made dinner. I should not be here.

"Bella?" The black cleared, it always did and always too soon in my opinion. I rolled onto my side and retched but nothing came up just a burning acidy taste that had me retch again and again until I tasted blood. What the hell had he given me this time? And what did he want from me? Why was I here? "Bella, sweetheart, darling," he stroked the side of my face and his features blurred into view, "My sweet young Bella-," he continued to coo. His breath smelt like cigarettes and wine. I could hear the throb of music downstairs or was it coming from the next room? I had no clue where I was. A hotel? A house? Someone's home? No, this could never be a home. Home meant warmth and love. Love wasn't here, "Baby, oh baby," he almost sang his lips flush against mine now, his tongue dancing into my mouth, "baby," his fingers walked a painful path down my shaking, convulsing body and he stabbed them inside. I had learnt not the scream by now. Screams only turned him more, "So welcoming, so wet," he muttered working two fingers into me, "You're a whore, Isabella. Only a whore would get a wet cunt before a rapist," he cleared his throat and the volume of his voice pitched as his hand pushed all the way in, stretching me, making me squirm and grimace, "only a whore would get fucking wet before a murderer!"

My lips quivering, ashamed, beaten. Humiliated. Slick. I was a whore. he was right. What kind of sick human being would squelch and curl at his hand? I could feel hot liquid seeping between my thighs. i was sick. I was a whore. I was a whore. I silently bit down, ignoring the pain erupting all over my body. I bit down until I tasted blood willing myself not to scream.

"That's it baby," he began to sing again, "come for me, scream. No one can hear you now," and the knife in his hand slashed at my stomach one last time.