Hi guys. So, how did I come to the idea of this story?... Imagine me walking tired in the rain, after college, trying to get home, earbuds in my ears. The song Man down from Rihanna was playing, and as weird as it sounds, a start of the story started to form in my mind.. What if something similar happened to Bella? So...here we are.

All mistakes are mine.

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.

Chapter 1

I woke up once again, by the sound of my screaming voice. I dreamed about it again. Actually, that fact didn't quite surprise me— since it happened, it was the only thing I could still dream about. Something that was not so long ago an actual reality. I couldn't stop the tears that traveled down my pale cheeks as he was once again chasing me down the street while I tried with every strength I had in me to escape him. It was no use. He succeeded in his plan. He ruined me. My life was never the same after that. I went to so many therapists, paying them a big bunch of money to help me deal with it. After so many months, I was tired to carry the burden that every time I would close my eyes all I would see is him. Tired to be afraid of falling asleep, to cry my heart out day after day after day. They all assured me that I shouldn't be blamed for something that could had happen to any other woman, and that unfortunately, I wasn't the first or the last person who would suffer through that tragical horror.

A few months later, I have managed to make some success. To heal, even if it was a process that will still take months and months 'till I would at least feel like a normal pre Bella, who was cheery, and always had a smile on her face rather than this one, this 'after Bella' that I sometimes hated so much, that always preferred distance, and safety behind closed doors rather than company. Even with the medication, I was still moody and way too serious. But I couldn't help it. I really really tried, but just couldn't. Not yet.

I don't even remember when was the last time I really, truly laughed, from the heart. But I did find myself smiling a bit more than usual. Still, I took my depression medication every day -plus the therapist session that were working their way into my busy schedule. I was feeling better, thinking less about it and trying to live my life as much as possible, but there were always the nights. And the nightmares that followed. I had a lot of support from my best friends, and my mother, which I was more than thankful. I could see the sympathy in their eyes, but only I could really, truly know how it felt. To be chased. Caught. Threatened. Violated. Over and over again. To beg for your life, knowing it was no use.

I got up, knowing I won't be able to sleep, so I quickly took a shower, cleaning my body from all that dirty, sticky perspiration that was all over my body. Sometimes, even after two years, I could still feel his dirty hands on me, touching me, bruising my body. Not wanting to think about it, I quickly wore some casual clothes, took my car keys, and went for a drive. It was still dark, but I didn't care, all I wanted was just to drive, to be anywhere but my house. Alone. I just mostly drove in circles, until I finally stopped at the place I haven't been in a long time. A place that always soothed my body and mind.

The sun began to rise over the horizon, so I took a little walk down the beach until I found a spot where I would just sit and enjoy in the view of the sea. It was a little chilly, so I wrapped my hands tight around my warm coat. It was beautiful, and most of all, peaceful, hearing the sounds of only waves crushing down on the soft ground full of sand. Until I heard his voice.

I instantly froze, panicking.

"No, don't go. I haven't seen you for so long. Are you okay?"

I didn't say a thing. Didn't even turn around.

"Please, talk to me. Anything," he pleaded.

Still, I said nothing. Then I heard his footsteps, approaching even closer to me. I started to shiver from the intense fear. Or was it from the cold?

"Please don't come any closer. I don't want to see or talk to you." I asked silently.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I know I shouldn't..."

"It's okay. I forgive you Jake." Then I slowly got up, and walked the other way.

"No, don't go. Stay."

"I can't. I have to go."

"Bye," he suddenly whispered,and the way he said it sounded very heartbroken, maybe even guilty. Still.

I didn't have any courage to look at him after all this time, even if he wasn't the blame. There were times that I blamed him for everything. Even that. Especially that. But not anymore.

So tell me what you think? Do I continue posting or not? Should I stop completely?