Prologue
I remember the day he left me. I loved him with everything I had. Then he left and I hated him. He was my heaven then he became my hell. He was my future, then he became my past. I wanted to kill him, but he is everything and more. So I killed his parents. Why? They broke us up. They thought we were too attached to each other. They thought that love doesn't come this young, but they were wrong. Love has no boundaries. We were fourteen years old at the time, but we had our whole future planned: graduate from high school, go to a good college together, get good jobs, get married, and have three children. That all died the day he said goodbye.
We shared secrets together; consequently, that was another reason why I murdered his parents. They were abusing him, his little sister Alice, and his twin brother Emmett. He told me that I couldn't tell anyone even if something happened to him, so I didn't.
But the day he said goodbye, was also the day he told me he was moving away. I saw the tears in his eyes. I saw the fear in his eyes. He was scared. He was afraid of moving away with his parents and never coming back. He was scared of all the pain they caused him and his siblings, and all the pain that would come in the future; therefore, I took matters into my own hands. I wanted to save him from this pain, so I killed the ones causing it by a gunshot to both their heads. The police caught me of course. At the age of fourteen, I was already a convicted felon charged for murdering two "innocent people." The two people that hurt a fourteen year old boy, his twin brother, and their little sister.
Maybe killing them wasn't the answer but I couldn't go back now. I spent two years in juvie. It wasn't a fun place. I was raped by a guard, cut by my roommate, tazered for beating up my roommate who cut me, and disowned by mother and her boyfriend who is now her rich and happy husband. So yeah, juvie was a ball. The day I was freed from that hellhole, I met my obnoxious, arrogant probation officer, Peter. Apparently, I was moving to Forks, Washington, the home of my father and the place I was born. For some reason, my father wanted me, probably because he thinks he can change me and help me.
I never got over the boy who left me for he is the love of my life. I can't even say his name without succumbing to a raging fit. I wonder what happened to him and his siblings. They were probably put into foster care, seeing as though his deceased parents were anti-social and talked to no one, not even family. I don't know he ever found out who killed his parents. The police didn't want to tell the "heartbroken" kids that I killed them; well actually, I convinced the police not to tell them who did it but to know that they were in custody and of no harm to him and his thought it was best to do that too, so here I am now.
I'm moving to Forks to make a new start on my life; however I didn't expect my past to catch up with me.