Hey guys. So obviously, I've chosen the second option. I might get back to 'Seventeen Ain't So Sweet' someday, but I have no idea when. I want to focus on one thing at a time, so I guess I'm starting with this.

So thanks to the people who gave me a positive response, and I've decided to try writing again.

Okay, I'd appreciate any constructive criticism, cuz I'm really unsure of how to write this shit. I haven't written anything for over half a year, so yeah.

Oh, and if you don't remember, I like to swear :) There's lots of profanity in this chapter, but its how I write, so if your going to complain to me about it, sorry, in my opinion, it helps strengthen the story.

And please don't try compare this to 'Seventeen Ain't So Sweet'. I know I made lots of things pretty similar, but this is a whole different new story, try to remember that.

So thanks to all you guys again.

To the new people, who know nothing of me, hey, and this is sorta my second story, since I cut short my first. So I hope you enjoy.

Oh, and reviews are very welcome :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.

Chapter One

Three in the Morning

"What are you FUCKING doing in there?!" Phil's deafening drunk voice seeped through the cracks of my bedroom door. The more he yelled, the louder he got.

I covered my ears in frustration, but removed them a second later, and continued to frantically stuff random belongings into an old blue duffle bag.

I was running away. He always wanted to kick me out. I guess my packing should be a pretty good sign for the both of us. Angrily, I picked up a book from the floor and hurled it angrily at the door.

"You stay AWAY from me, you hear that?! Do you fucking hear that!?"

There was a pause. Then he continued to scream profanities, this time with a few loud punches against the door for effect. "You little bitch. Do you KNOW who you're talking to?! You have NO right to fucking-"

And that's when I threw open the window, and jumped onto the fire-escape. I crouched down, and listened quietly as Phil knocked down the door and stomped in.

I could hear his drunken breath, as he leaned towards the window, where the wind was flapping against the curtain, and swore angrily. Then he marched out, muttering to himself.

As soon as I couldn't hear the slightest sound of him anymore, I raced towards the door.

The bathroom light was on, and I presumed that Phil was in it, puking or gloating aimlessly at him in the mirror, at what he thought was a gloriously handsome image. Bullshit.

The front door was open, and I took a breath, and sprinted out.

The exact same moment, I could hear the bathroom door slam open, as Phil caught a glimpse of me rushing out the apartment, duffle bag in hand. He began to scream words I could not comprehend, but it wasn't hard to distinguish the fact that he was pretty pissed off.

Luckily, the apartment was located on the second floor, so I raced down the stairs, shoved open the door, and continued to sprint on, in which direction, I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the fact his screaming voice was starting to get quieter and quieter.

The last thing I heard from that cursed wretched voice, were the words, "And don't you DARE come back! Fucking, ever!!"

Funny how those final sentiments put a smile on my face.

---

I ground my teeth together in frustration. Impatiently, I grabbed the hair band wrapped around my wrist, and quickly tied my hair into a ponytail. It was really annoying me.

Everything was really annoying me. The stupid dark blue sky, and the stupid stars, and the stupid moon. The thing that annoyed me most, though, would be the cheerful laughter I could hear, which seemed to be coming from all directions.

"Shut up," I grumbled, weakly punching the wall with my fist.

Hopelessly, I sat down on the curb of the pavement, and just gazed directly into the light of the streetlamp. Who cares if it blinded me? I sure fucking didn't.

I like to call my life, as it is. A living hell. My mother Renee died when I was nine. I don't remember much of what happened before. Most of my memories, my disgusting, twisting, revolting memories, are with Phil, and are the ones that have been branded deeply my mind. Everything else seemed to go by like a blur.

Phil Dwyer, you see, was the most horrible, most terrifying, and most unworthy man, to walk this face of earth. Too bad, he was also my stepfather, which complicated things up a fuck load. And he hated me. He fucking hated me.

And yeah, I hated him too.

Renee had died in a car accident, on the way to pick me up from a ballet lesson. It was raining that day. Thunder crackled out of the thick grey clouds, and the lightening bolts illuminated the dark black sky for miles. Everything happened in a blur.

My ballet teacher, Miss Clarvin came back into the studio, after taking an important call. She was good friends with my mother, and they often talked for a while, when Renee was here to pick me up.

Slowly, yet unsteadily, as if she had forgotten how to walk, Miss Clarvin made her way over to me. I remember the fear which had clamped my heart, from that horrified, shocked expression on her face. The instinct to run away from her washed over me, as she took my hand, and led me to an empty room.

I watched nervously as she knelt down and took my hand in hers.

"Bella." She looked me long and hard in the eye, as if that the words were deadly. "Bella, I'm afraid- Oh, god, how do I say this. Bella, your mother. Your mother was in a c-car accident. A-And, I'm really really, so, s-so terribly sorry, but the paramedics said it d-" She took a long deep breath, tears beginning to wallow in her eyes. "It doesn't look so good. Honey, I-I don't think she's going to make it."

And it was that moment when my world just crumbled and collapsed. I could almost feel the teacher's arms wrap around me, and hold me in what was supposed to be a comforting hug. But the words were poison, and they seemed to have seeped through my veins, numbing my limbs, and stopping me taking another breathe.

I could feel the air in my throat just stop going up or down, and the world seemed to start spinning, but everything stayed still. It was as if I had fallen, broken every single bone in my body, and just been left there to endure pain.

I was taken to the hospital straight away, and I stared at the too-white marble floor, with Phil standing silently by the door. I wasn't allowed inside, as I heard the nurses whispering hurriedly to the policemen that my mother should not be seen, especially by her young daughter, in a state like this.

I wanted to yell, scream, and bang my fists against the door, insisting that I saw her, but all the strength in the muscles just weren't there.

I was a little girl in a tutu, sitting lifelessly on the plastic chairs, clasping her fists so tightly together, her delicate arms looked like they could snap.

Unlike in movies, where the nurses talk to the children, telling them that whoever was going to be alright, didn't happen here. Instead, they all gave me a wobbly, pitying smile, and turned gaze before I could look them directly in the eye.

Suddenly, I could hear a frantic beeping sound, and a couple of nurses and a doctor rushed into the room, without a single word to me.

And then she died.

The moment after Renee's funeral, the very moment, where I was wiping off the flood of tears streaming out of my eyes, Phil just walked up to me. He was an okay guy before everything happened, but my mom was unreasonably crazy about him. He was in his thirties, with brown hair, and a quite tall frame.

We never talked, but he never laid a hand on me back then. I didn't really like him, but I never held the throttling grudge I held against him like I do now. He glared at me for a moment, his eyes burning a furious fire, behind a mask of sadness.

Then he slapped me across the face, and I stumbled back, wincing in horror. It burned like a hot iron rod, and it was the first thing I had felt in days.

And then he spoke, in a voice so chilling, five words that would pull my life deeper down the quicksand pit I had already been drawn into. "You will pay for this."

And those years that passed, and treatment I endured, made me angry. I knew that I had toughened up, maybe turned into a bitch, but I didn't care, and I still don't. Life was a bitch itself, and if you're too weak to take it on, it'll slap you first.

---

I stepped through the doors of the brightly lit McDonalds. Thank god for 24 hour service. Though I knew nobody would know that I was a runaway, I felt as if eyes were watching me from every side of the fast food restaurant, as if people knew that I didn't have a home anymore, or something like that. I winced inwardly.

Stupid sub-consciousness. There were only like two customers there anyway. It wasn't exactly early at night, or late in the morning.

Although Phil hated me, I knew the pleasure it would give him, to see my anger, my frustration, if he called the police, and reported me as gone.

I could picture his twisted smirk, the grim delight it gave him, when I was forced out of the police car, fighting my way out of handcuffs or something of the sort, yelling profanities, and he would be wearing a mask of devastation, as he enjoyed having the police watch him pretend to miss me.

I clenched my fist.

That was not going to happen. I was never going to see that house that I long long long ago called home, ever again. That son of a bitch had seen the last of me, and I never would want to imagine the slightest of him anymore.

Forcing a smile on my face, I slapped a five dollar bill on the counter. "One cheeseburger, please."

The cashier was definitely older than me, but his traces of acne told me that he had just passed adolescence. "Right away, miss. Would you like anything else?" And he winked.

I knitted my eyebrows. I was not in the mood for anything right now. No flirting, no winking, nothing of the shit. My fist clenched over the money in my hand, and I sent an accusing glare at the cashier.

"I said, one cheeseburger. Please." I gritted the words out, and purposely pointed at the rotating shelf with hamburgers on it, with my middle finger.

He frowned for a moment, and then rushed off to collect my order. Mumbling to himself, he placed the cheeseburger hurriedly on the counter, and handed me my change.f

"Have a good day." I heard him mutter sarcastically. As I walked out the doors, more loudly he added, his voice traveling through the emptiness of the restaurant, "Jesus Christ, what a bitch."

"Thanks," I yelled back without hesitation, watching a look of muted shock grow on his face. Hurriedly, he walked into the kitchen, behind the grillers, away from the curious gazes the couple customers.

Life without a house was looking up ever so slightly.

---

I finished the remains of my dinner, and scrunched up the wrapper, throwing it into the nearest trash can with my left hand. I drew my phone out of my pocket, and dialed one of the numbers I knew best.

The dial tone rang a few times, and then reported the call as 'unavailable'.

"Unavailable, my ass." I muttered to no one in particular.

Dialing again, I tapped my foot impatiently on the concrete street, waiting for an answer.

"H-Hello?"

"Hey, Mike, what's up? It's Bella."

"Bella? Bella?!?! Bella!!! Why the hell are you calling me now? It's like, I don't know, holy shit, I dropped the my watch, just a sec...Oh, wait, goddammit Bella, do you know that it's THREE in the fucking MORNING!!!"

I could hear the springs of the mattress creaking as he collapsed back onto his bed.

"How old are you? Eight? I vaguely remember you insisting to hold that last party until, I don't know, six!!" I retorted playfully.

"I-"

"Never mind, that's not the point. I was going to ask if I could crash, you know, tonight?"

He paused for a moment.

"What?!? At three? What the hell going on, Bella?"

"Well," I chose my choice of words selectively, "Phil kind of kicked me out."

"WHAT?!" The rapid increase of volume made me wince, and I pulled the phone farther away from my ear. "At THREE in the MORNING?!?!"

"Jesus, Mike, just forget the time! That's not the point." My stricter tone of voice stopped him from complaining again, letting me get on with what I had to say. "I just, um, might need some place to stay for a couple days, you know, if your parents don't mind."

Another pause.

"Are you STUPID or something!?! I live with the Chief, you dumbass!!"

Oh, shit. With all the drama I had gone through tonight, I had forgotten the biggest glitch of Mike. His dad was the Chief Police of the NYPD. He would have me sent back to Phil's, before I even stepped on his doormat. He didn't even have to be home, to know I was there.

You see, the as one of the most dangerous men, in a good way, of New York, he took tremendous security measures. The last time I actually slept over at Mike's, along with a couple of other people, it was unfortunately during this small break-out from the jail, and banks and jewelry shops were being broken into time after time.

I actually had to do a fingerprint check. It was the most stupid thing in the world, but his dad insisted on it. Plus, he had a gun, so we would do anything he said, without any argument. The only good thing about it was watching Mike's face turn from this normal tan, to a bright tomato red.

It was completely ironic how Mike turned out. I mean, seriously, you would expect the son of the head police officer, the top law enforcer, of the state, to be some sort of over the top, goody two shoes. The thing was, Mike's dad was hardly ever at home, and Mike did anything he wanted to. Without his father knowing, of course.

Mike snapped, finally, when he was 15, and he yelled in front of the school that he was so sick of his dad's stupid rules, that were going to turn him into a complete social outcast.

He began to go to drinking bars, strip clubs, and hanging out at the cool beer parties, turning that used-to-be probable aspect completely upside-down. I'm sure his father at least has to suspect something. Lucky, Mike is amazingly good at hiding the truth, and I don't think Chief Newton has a lie detector in hand.

I guess Mike is one of my best friends. I don't have many friends back in school. In New York, if you're not rich, a beautiful, or an amazing athlete, you've straight down become a nobody. As they say, high schools a jungle, and the popular people have either been blessed with inhumanely good looks, or they've clawed their way to the top.

I didn't give a shit for this social categories crap. It pissed me off, and I swore to hang with the people of the same mind. I found Angela, who's gone through a lot of shit, which makes her seem tough on the outside. She has shoulder-length light brown hair, and a tall slender build. And as we became friends, and I easily discovered the gentle, kind, personality that Angela really was. She just didn't have the nerves to show it.

She's also the kind of person who thinks you have to be tough to survive. I guess we click because we live on that same motto.

Jessica is a different matter. Tough and fierce, inside and out, she's got about 10 piercings, and wears deliberately provocative clothes, the one with the swear words and all. It's no wonder teachers hate her.

She's not a nice person, trust me, but she believes in loyalty vehemently, so if you do become her friend, she'll stand up for you, without any hesitation. Jessica is short, like a head shorter than Angela, and has masses of explosive curly brown hair.

There are other people, Tyler, Ben, Katie, which we hang out with, but I wasn't as close with them.

We all look pretty different in our group. I'm definitely taller than Jessica, but about an inch shorter than Angela. I like to certain types of sports, I don't know, like baseball and basketball, so I can say that I'm easily not fat, but I'm not built with crazy muscles, either. I guess I'm sort of slender, but I'm only of average height, so nothing special.

I've got really long brown hair, an inch or so above my waist. And then the normal plain Jane features; brown eyes, freakishly pale skin, and all. I don't clarify myself as good looking, but I don't think I'm that disgusting either.

Looks don't mean shit to me though. Because, stick to the motto, they aren't going to help you survive squat in reality. We've all learnt to accept that.

Mike joined our little 'rebel' group I guess, when he protested with the whole speech of, 'I don't want to be a fucking cop when I grow up.' It made me laugh, and we just became really close friends.

He actually had the nerve to ask me out a couple times, but I only, and still, saw him as Mike, the funny weird-ass guy who yelled his ambitions, quite crudely may I add, in front of the entire school, and earned endless Saturday morning detentions.

"And do you not remember the time, where he told you to pull out your ID?!? After he's met you like, I don't know, over five times?! And-"

"Yeah, I get it, sorry to bother you. Go sleepy-bye now." I mocked teasingly.

The volume of his voice decreased rapidly, and sleep seemed to overtake his voice again. "Mmm, ok, whatever. See you...whenever."

The phone call ended with a click, and I heaved a heavy sigh. I shoved my phone back in my jean pocket, and walked slowly to the corner of the street. I was tired, and after that long conversation with Mike, I could begin to feel my eyelids fluttering shut.

Jesus, I didn't know what the hell to do. It was dark, it was cold, and there was absolutely not a single person around. I yanked out the fuzzy wool blanket I had stuffed in the outer pocket of my duffle bag. Sighing, I literally collapsed on the floor, exhausted, and feeling very sleep-deprived. Using my duffle bag for a pillow, I stuck to the darkest part of this alleyway.

Usually, it would have scared me a little, but my head was swirling with confused thoughts, and I felt so overwhelmed, I couldn't even be bothered to pay attention to the fear.

I wrapped myself tightly up in the blanket, and let myself succumb to sleep.

I'd wake up in the morning, and then plan out exactly how I'm going to live my life on the pavements of New York.

Smart move, Swan.

Word Count: 3,164

So, I hope you enjoyed that. I've been pretty bored lately, so it was kinda fun creating a whole new scene and story and everything. I'll try not get bored with it before it ends, like the other one.

And, I know I left out a lot of detail about Phil and everything, but I want to add more stuff later on in the story.

Anyway, please review! I'd really appreciate to know what you guys thought. It's still the early part of the story, so you know; lots of things could be added, changed, whatever. A lot of my opinions are based on what you guys think, if that helps ;)

Criticism is totally welcome. It's cool to know what you think is done wrong, or what I should improve on. If it's still the swearing, tell me, and I'll try tone it down, though I can't guarantee that I'll get rid of it completely.

Oh, and it be really really good if you guys could feed me parts of which bits are unrealistic. I'm not to familiar with all this crime situation, though I'll look into it when I have the time. But if you find it too weird, please tell me, cuz I'd really appreciate it. It'd help the story a shit load too.

So thanks for readings, and I hope you guys liked it.

I'll update as soon as I can, and as soon as I check out what kind of responses I'll get :)