All characters belong to Stephanie Meyer… I just love creating plots! =)

This is honestly the first story that I've been completely serious about in a long time. There are shelves of notebooks in my room filled with half-written stories. I'd appreciate if y'all be patient through the story and also be honest with any comments. Any reviews can help me with anything I need to get better at or tell me what I'm doing well on. Thanks for reading!

Also, some chapters will have violent actions and some pretty gross stuff. (Nothing twisted but just gross.) You've been warned. If you don't like it, don't read it. Also, if you are one of those people who read a story just to review and criticize everything I did wrong; it doesn't bother me so you are wasting your time.

Full summary: Bella has something to hide and when she gets sick of dealing with it, she tries to end it all. Sam stops her. They form a sort of bond, but when changes start in Sam and Bella doesn't see him for three weeks, she goes to figure out what it is. What will happen?

Bella

Chapter 1

Everything about me seemed strange; my own hands looked old, scarred, and twisted. After a few minutes, I realized it was only the dizzy after-effects of my latest nightmare. The only thing scarred on me was the gruesome lines cress-crossing my wrist. I disgust myself with how I have become like this because of a few punches. Okay, more than a few and not just punches, but still. I deserved it didn't I? That's what he always said.

My mother left him for another man after she had me. She left me in his custody, saying she had never wanted a kid in the first place. He blamed me. I made her leave. I made her hate him. It was always my fault. He always told me that and he never treated me right. When I turned 13, he decided I was strong enough to take a punch. I had to steal make-up from the corner store down the block to hide the bruises. Sometimes, he would lock me in my room for days at a time. A bucket and a couple gallons of water were hidden in the wall of the closet for bathroom and drinking purposes when that happened.

I have lived in constant fear for four years as of today. I'm 17 now and things haven't changed. Today will of course be worse because it's my birthday. It also happens to be the day he hates most. I got dressed in my usual black jeans, long-sleeve shirt, and converse. I put on the make-up that I can actually buy now instead of steal, glad that at least today was a school and work day. I wouldn't have to be home till about nine tonight. I realized I was in even more luck as I walked downstairs and saw that Phil had already left for either work or the diner. I cleaned up a bit before heading out to my truck. The thing rumbled to life and I slowly made my way to school not looking forward to the unsuspecting students around me.

I tried to keep to myself when I could but with being such a small town, everyone knew everyone. So of course, a fair share of the teenagers here knew what today was. I actually received a few cards from people who didn't think I was a waste of space. That or their parents made them do it. The latter was confirmed when Lauren Mallory shoved one at my chest with a sneer on her face. As I wet about my classes for the day, I spaced out with my thinking. My birthday made me realize I had a year left till I was 18, another half till graduation, and then I could get out of the this town; ultimately, I would also be getting away from Phil. It almost made me smile.

Almost.

After school was let out, I went to my four o' clock shift at the Newton's store. Sometimes, I wondered how the place was still open considering most days we had next to none customers, but it's not like I'm complaining. I got paid for doing almost nothing except during the summers and early autumn. Today was no different than any other day. I restocked, took inventory, and then sat behind the counter reading some kind of romance novel my mother had left in the attic before she left. I found a box full of them. I mainly liked reading them because of the sappy crap in it and knowing that none of this shit happens in real life anymore. No one comes in and sweeps you away from all of your problems. You have to do it for yourself.

Mr. Newton came around 9 15 to relieve me of store duties. I almost wished he'd just let me stay here and sleep in one of the sleeping bags in the aisle, but he stated something along the lines that it's my birthday and I should be with my father. Damn small towns. Small enough to know everyone but now enough to tell when one of their 'prized' citizens is beating on his daughter. I snorted in disgust at this. Though, I will admit, it's kind of ironic that Phil works in the police station and should be against the crap. Then again, I've always wondered if he actually was my father or if I just got mixed up in the hospital. Renee, my mother, and Phil both had blond hair and bright blue eyes from old pictures I'd found of them. Somehow, I ended up with mahogany brown hair and dark brown eyes. I think that may be another reason Phil hates me. If I wasn't his real daughter, then he didn't have to keep me around. But he didn't want it to be tested because then it would be proof that my mother was unfaithful and his pride is too big for a blow like that. There was talk around town of how my mother had an open door policy between her legs. I didn't have a doubt about it.

Without even realizing it, I had driven back to my house. Since I didn't have a bunch of cops on my ass, I figured my body subconsciously drove for me while my mind had been focused elsewhere. I looked up to see the front door wide-open and TV lights shining through the living room curtains. I sighed and rolled my eyes at his carelessness and made my way inside the house. Walking inside and actually shutting the door, I didn't get any whiff of liquor. I called out to say that I was home.

"Hey dad, I'm back!" I wouldn't dare to call him Phil to his face. I walked to the living room doorway to see him just getting ready to sit down with a can of beer in his hand. "Are you trying to get yourself sick? It's like twelve degrees outside and you just left the door open."

"What did you say to me?" He glared, making me back towards the kitchen a bit.

"Never mind. I'll go cook some dinner."

He just flicked on the television and opened his beer. I wondered if he knew it was bad to drink on an empty stomach. All well. I rolled my eyes at his behavior for the second time this evening and went to the kitchen. I gathered the ingredients for a quick and easy Alfredo. As I cooked, I let my mind roam to anything beside the piece of crap man sitting in the living room. When everything was done, I dished it out and set it at the table, calling out to Phil that everything was ready. He shuffled into the kitchen, probably having half a case of beer in the time it took me to prepare everything, and just kind of looked at the food.

"Couldn't you have made something better? It is your birthday." He snapped at me.

"You never cared about it before." I muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear.

I knew I had said the wrong thing as I saw his fist come crashing into my face. Blood spurted from my nose and I knew he had probably broken it again. He punched me in my lower stomach, knocking the breath out of me and nearly making me lose my lunch. He hit me till I dropped to my knees, and then knocked me to where I was sprawled across the floor. He began kicking me will all his might for all it was worth. I tasted the blood on my lips and in the back of my throat. When he moved away, I made the mistake of hoping he was finished. I just wasn't sure how much more I could take. Then, he was above me, one hand around my throat and the other holding the sharpest knife in our kitchen.

"It's your fault your mother left me. She took off with my brother and left here with you! You don't deserve what I give you. Your nothing and I need to make sure you remember that." He growled out, panting for breath from his previous actions.

He pulled up my shirt and I froze, scared that he was going to cross the line that I never thought he would. I almost felt relief when he started cutting into my stomach with the knife. It burned so bad. I wanted to scream but didn't, knowing that that would only make things worse for me. When he was done, he stood with a grunt, threw the knife towards the sink, and then hauled me up by my arm. He dragged me across the floor and up the stairs, smacking my head against something more than once. I knew what he was planning to do. He threw me in my small room, slammed the door, and slapped the lock home on the outside. I got up and stared at the mirror to survey the damage done to my abdomen. It was a bloody mess and looked like it spelled something. I ripped off my shirt and dabbed at the open wounds, wiping the garish red away. The shirt was quickly stained and saw that it spelled 'nothing'. I snorted at the unoriginality. Unfortunately it needed to be sterilized unless I wanted an infection.

I lifted up the loose floorboard, finding my recently stocked first aid kit and lifted it out. I wiped my stomach with antiseptic wipes, whimpering slightly at the burning sensation but refusing to cry. I noticed bones sticking out at odd places and knew that I was probably about to do something worse than Phil did. I grabbed a washcloth from my dresser and stuck it in my mouth, clamping down my jaws. I gently place my hand on top of the broken rib and in a quick movement, pushed it back into place. I screamed into the rag, my breath coming in short spurts through my nose. I repeated this six times and by the time I was finished, there was no way to hold in the tears anymore. I cleaned up blood again and used more antiseptic. I ripped open gauze and put it to my stomach. The seeping blood held it in place, leaving me both hands to wrap an ace bandage around my stomach. I put three of them on, hoping to keep my ribs in place to heal also.

I threw my trash and the bloody shirt in a bin by my desk. I cleaned up my room a little bit, not wanting to give Phil another reason to angry when he comes to let me out again. I painfully lay on my bed with a book and reached behind my pillow for the pain pills I kept there. I dry swallowed two, then lay back to stare at the ceiling, forgetting about my book. The pain still moved throughout my body, but, by now, I was used to it. I looked out the window, telling myself that I was finished. I can't fight anymore. It was getting too hard to hide and I just couldn't do it anymore. As I drifted off into sleep, I decided that when he let me out, I was done.

Phil opened my door four days later. He didn't say anything, just looked in and smirked at me. He stomped downstairs and I heard the front door slam followed by his car driving away. I hoisted myself from the bed and got dressed in jeans and t shirt, not worrying about hiding my bruises. Downstairs, I filled my empty stomach, not caring that it left us with no food. I wasn't coming back anyway. Once I finished, I grabbed a jacket and my keys, then went out to my truck. The sun had barely risen as I made my way to the beaches of La Push. It wasn't long before I was there. I got out of my truck and walked over the sandy shore. I looked over the ocean, seeing the colors flash off the water and a fishing boat in the distance. I could see fish jumping out of the water and birds flying up above. I wondered how something so beautiful could be put in a world as ugly as this. I thought about this more and held out my bruised and cut arms, as if giving proof that the view in front of me didn't belong. I heard squealing from down the shore and saw a couple of people heading my way. I turned and walked away, noticing the sun rising higher in the sky.

I walked down the shore a couple yards until I saw an opening in the trees. Sand continued into the mossy forest for quite awhile. My sneakers stepped with a crunch and I noticed I was father in than I'd ever been before considering I'd reached the end of the sand. I went further and further. It seemed like I was walking for hours. I almost didn't think I was going to find what I was looking for. I probably should have just drove my truck up there, but I needed this to feel like it was going to be the absolute end with no escape or I wouldn't go through with it. The truck would just seem like a way out if it was behind me. I started to get faster as the ground finally began to slope upwards. I could tell I was getting closer. Instead of just the soggy smell of old moss, I was now smelling sea brine and hearing the crashing of waves. I saw another break in the trees ahead and quickened my pace more, surprising myself when I didn't fall.

When I broke through my trees, I found myself at the cliffs. The wind blew harder up here and the salty smell of the water was potent. I looked out at the sky to see dark clouds rolling in. I stepped to the edge and looked down, seeing the currents crash waves roughly against the stone walls. I smirked knowing that this was the perfect scene. I stepped back, my jacket and slipping it down my arms, then tossed it to the side. I stepped on the toes of my shoes, sliding my feet out of them. I stepped closer to the edge, my toes almost hanging off the edge. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing my eyes. Just as I was about to jump, a deep voice spoke behind me.

"You shouldn't do that."

It may not be the best and I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. If any of those mistakes are bothersome, just let me know. If anyone has some ideas for how I can make the story better, either review it or send me a PM. Unfortunately, updates are probably not going to be as fast as I'd like because of school but I hope, if anyone reads this, they have patience.

Thanks for reading and please review. Any comments are welcome.

-Bina