AN: Hey guys, this is my first story on Fanfiction and I was really nervous about posting this. Please review and let me know what you liked/disliked about this story and also give me ideas for what to do about the next chapter! I will try to update every Wednesday or so. Also, I don't have a beta yet so PM me if you're interested! Enjoy (:

BPOV

It's times like this where I feel worthless. I just don't know what to do anymore and I don't know how long it will take until I break. I should just end it now, spare everyone the burden of knowing me, I think. No one cares. And no one would ever care.

I have a bottle of exactly 12 pills on the bedside table next to me. Two would put me in a deep sleep, 5 would make me throw up violently, and nine or more would kill me. I was interrupted by my dad yelling at me about why dinner hadn't been made yet. You see, it wasn't always like this.

~Flashback to two years ago~

"Mom, I'm home!" I yelled, waiting for a response. I figured she was sleeping, so I headed up stairs to see what was going on. Something didn't feel right as I stepped closer to her shut bedroom door. "Mom?" I said apprehensively, questioning whether or not I should go in. I pushed the door open, revealing my mother's limp body lying on her bed. On her right, there was an empty bottle of pills. To her left was a note with Bella written on the front in her elegant handwriting. I didn't know what to think or feel.

After that, I moved in with my dad, Charlie. We were never that close and we grew farther apart after I chose to live with my mom. Charlie was an abusive alcoholic, which was why she decided to get a divorce. Still, he was my only family member left in the country, so the court ordered that I lived with him until I was 18, which was only 2 years away.

Charlie had only two main rules; that I never talked back or did anything disrespectful and that dinner was too be made before he got home from work.

~End Flashback~

"Shit," I mutter, nervous of how he was going to react. As soon I got down the stairs, Charlie's hand was around my neck. Using his other hand, he slaps me so hard I could taste blood in my mouth. Tears start forming in my eyes, threatening to escape.

"Oh shut up," he sneers, "If you don't stop crying I will give you something to cry about."

"Please, let me go," I cry, "It will never happen again!"

"Damn right it won't." Charlie says as he throws me onto the cold, hard floor. He storms up the stairs, leaving me, a broken mess, in the kitchen.

That night, I stayed awake, wondering if anyone would actually miss me. By the time it was morning, where Charlie's hands had once been was a dark purple bruise. My cheek had swollen up a bit too, but nothing too bad. I covered both up with concealer and tip-toed downstairs, hoping Charlie had left for work already.