Okay, so the names jenna. :p This is my first fanfic so like please review, and criticize me, so I can know my mistakes!!! I do not own Twilight, but I am going to add some characters of my own XD. PLEASE REVIEW!!! Will upload next chapter soon!!! Thanks and Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Just Me

My daily routine: get up for school, wash, you know like brush your teeth and stuff, dress, go downstairs, stuff my ipod in my ears, grab my skateboard, and leave for school.

School: the most devastating part if my life. I don't really understand it. Why am I here? The people here are like aliens to me. People stare and point me out, always whispering "the walking dead of the insane," "the weird scene girl," or "the emo girl," but I guess you can say that I'm used to being different. I'm not like other girls, being your Paris Hilton wannabe. I like to have my own style. Be myself, trying not to care what other people think. I'm just me.

Sometimes, it just hurts to be me though. You know that feeling where you just want to let go of everything and breakdown? Yeah, I have many moments like that. You know that quote "stick and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me"? Yeah, that can impact someone's life if you really think about it. I thought about it, and can you possibly guess? It's not true. Words HURT.

While I am contemplating these little things that no one seems to notice, I see the view of school. Forks high school; my worst enemy. Here it comes: whoosh; the breath knocked out of me. Here it comes: the name calling and the staring. "Emo kid," a voice says. He has started the kids' tradition: bullying me, suffocating me with their cruel, evil words. "EMO PIECE OF SHIT!" a boy named Jonathan screams out to me. Him and his little football buddies crack up, laughing their heads off. One day though, I will be their misery, and they will pay for all they have done.

I try to ignore their vicious comments, tuning myself to my music. Comatose by Skillet. Memories overtake me, making my breathing irregular. A name comes to my mind: Edward. The person who lifted me up, patched my heart together, and just let me fall. It's been 7 months since our break-up. He left me, he left me.

How stupider can I have gotten? He gave me all the clues, all of them for me to suspect he'd be with her.

The memories, they pain me. I feel nauseous, like I am about to throw up. I can feel myself drain of color, going pale. I wrap my arms around myself for comfort. Help; I need help. I unravel myself from my arms and dig into my messenger bag. Where is it? Where is it; those three words repeating themselves in my mind. Found you. I slowly look around me, everyone minding themselves. Now I look for a dark corner, where no one can find me, so I can be out of sight. I spot a corner and rush to it. I pull out the knife I so cherish, and cut. Across, harder…harder…my voice whispers to me. I see the blood trickle out of the cut, and I feel proud of myself. I cut more, more, more. I beg for more blood to be ooze out of the cuts I have made. Then I start with my right arms. Cut after cut. They make their own rhythm. Enough my mind tells me. I slowly stow away the knife in my messenger bag. I sit there and pick at scabs from previous cuts.

I look at my handy work, 7 cuts on each arm, all long and wide. My head is pounding, and I start to feel dizzy. Look at the blood makes me want to puke, so I do. I feel so faint, and then I feel something. Is it death? Or an angel? There's darkness ahead of me. I reach for it. I yearn for it. I hear a faint voice; so new and yet somewhat familiar.

"C'mon I've got you, I'm here for you. What is your name?" the voice says.

I realize it is a person, who is currently holding me tight, hugging me, and tending to me. I reply in the faint, whispery voice that I produce, "Bella…"