Introduction/Chapter 1

I thought that when my family moved to California and left me alone in Tree Hill it would change everything, I thought I'd be happy.

When they first left, I had absolutely no where to go. I was homeless, more or less, which I hated. Of course Karen offered me a room at her house since Lucas wasn't living there anymore, but still, I was alone.

Ever since I was really young I remember having the terrible fear of ending up alone, and even then I wouldn't have thought that at 17 years old, those feelings would still be there, stronger than ever. My parents never really wanted me and they always found ways of getting out of having to do anything to look after me or care for me since I was old enough to take care of myself, or since they thought I was. Anyone else could see that at twelve years old I was no where near old enough to do everything alone, but they didn't seem to care. I think it was when I was twelve when they went on their first long vacation together without me. They hadn't even thought about taking me. They were gone for a month at least with no phone calls or emails, nothing. I think it was around that time that I finally realised that my parents didn't give a damn about me.

When my dad lost his job and we had no money, I thought my life was over. No allowance, no shopping sprees, no money to spend however I liked. I'd grown up one of the popular girls in school, I was always seen as the rich girl, and when that changed, I thought that I'd lose my identity along with my allowance but I'm actually glad it happened. It made me realise what was important in my life and it also made me see that I am more than just what people see. I saw for the first time that I'm not just the pretty rich girl, I'm a lot more. I don't need to try to define myself as one thing.

My best friend had never changed throughout my life, I'd loved Peyton Sawyer for as long as I can remember. She was always there to talk to, to confide in and to just be my friend. I found myself increasingly jealous of her as the years passed and we got older though. She had everything, everything I didn't. Her mother wasn't around, but her father gave her more love than my parents put together. She had a stable family and a nice home. You might ask what was wrong with my house and its 7 bedrooms? But that's just it, it was a house, not a home. I think that's why I stuck with Peyton for so long. I saw what she had, and thought that maybe, just maybe, being close to her I could somehow have some of that love and security. It never happened though.

I lost my best friend around the time that my dad lost his job and I was so angry with Peyton for that. She ruined what friendship at a time when all I needed was my best friend. That is what upset me the most about the whole situation with Peyton, it wasn't that she ruined our friendship altogether, it was that she couldn't even see how much it was killing me, how much I was dieing on the inside and how much I just needed her to be there.

Speaking of the ruined friendship, you know hat it was all over? A guy. You might think that is really stupid, to loose your best friend over a guy. Usually I'd agree with you but considering what happened I know I could never trust her again.

Lucas was my boyfriend, but not just a crush. Sure at first I only saw him as someone I could have sex with, someone I liked for his looks, it was purely physical. But over time I realised that I was getting more and more attached to him emotionally. That I Brooke Davis, was falling in love.

When I remember the day we first spoke now it still makes me laugh, thinking about what he must have thought of me, the naked girl in the backseat of his car. He never fell for me the way I did for him. He cheated on me, with my best friend, and I was too dumb to even see it.

And that gets me to now, three weeks after I finally saw the truth about my boyfriend and bitchy ex-best friend. The worst three weeks of my entire life.

I have no one to talk to anymore, no one who cares. Sure I have other friends in school but none that I can actually confide in about my problems, none that are really bothered. And that's what scares me the most, it makes me wonder, if I am destined to be alone.

A lot of people don't believe in destiny or anything like that and in some ways I do but others I don't. I think that everything happens because it's meant to be, yet the choices you make can change what's meant to be. I don't believe there's a God or anything like that though, there's just too many flaws to that belief.

Back to where I was before, it's been three weeks, three long and lonely weeks. Three weeks I wish I could erase.

That brings me to now, where I stand alone on the beach. I've been coming here a lot lately, I don't know why exactly. I find comfort in the slow and steady swishing of the waves, the soft sand between my toes and the slight breeze that gently passes my body. I feel at ease here, like I can forget all what has been going on, I can pretend that it hasn't happened. I pretend that Lucas never happened and me and Peyton are still the best of friends. It works sometimes too, but a lot of the time I can't get rid of that nagging feeling in my mind, that tells me that I'm being stupid, I shouldn't even want to be okay with them again, I should totally hate them for what they did, but I can't.

On that thought I begin to walk along the beach, towards my favourite spot, the most secluded and peaceful spot on the entire beach. My safe haven. It's the one place that I can come and truly be alone with my thoughts, where no one can see me. I like it down here a lot, I'm actually pretty sure that not too many people know about this little spot, since its so secluded and I'm glad. I hope no one ever finds it.

I suddenly felt someone's hands grab me from behind. One hand over my mouth, the other arm tight around my neck. What the heck? I thought, but as the arms spun me around I saw who it was, Uncle Paul, my heart sunk as my already dreadful day just got worse.

He shoved me roughly downwards as he forcefully began to pull at the button on my jeans. I knew what was coming next, it had happened so many times before, but still I felt the same feeling of violation and disgust as I had all the other times he had done this. And as he finally undid my jeans and slid them down, a solitary tear slid down my face. Why me? Why did all this keep happening to me? What had I done to make him hate me so much he wanted to do this to me?