Ok, this is my first ever chaptered fic. Thanks to Kassi (wannabewriter08) for motivating me to start this. And to go ahead and clear things up: Bella moved to Forks in her freshman year in high school. Mike is a football player and she thinks that she's in love with him.

Disclaimer: this goes for the whole story- as much as I wish I was Stephenie Meyer, I am not. If you recognize it, I do not own it.

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I sobbed as I sat curled up on my bed. I fell in love with Mike Newton the moment I saw him on my first day at Forks High School. He always seemed kind, sweet, funny. But lately I had been seeing another side of him.

I had been going out with him for about six months now. I thought I'd be blissfully happy when I was going out with him, but it turned out that I was terribly wrong.

The first incident happened at a party thrown by the guys on the football team. Mike got drunk.

We had been sitting out on the front porch of the house of the guy who was hosting the party (whose parents were out of town), when Mike said that he was going to go inside and get us something to drink. I stayed on the porch waiting for him. He didn't come back out.

After half an hour I decided to go inside to investigate, and I found Mike, drunk, on the couch making out with Jessica.

"Mike, what's going on?!" I cried as I pulled him off of her.

One look at him was all I needed to know that he was drunk. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he gave me a drunken smile and leaned in to try to kiss me. I pushed him away, something I never thought I'd do.

"Come on Mike, let's go. We need to get you home." I said, pulling him to his feet.

I managed to drag him out to his car, with the help of Tyler, who was there and had actually stayed sober. I was crying as I drove him to his house, wondering how he could have done this to me.

It's ok, I tried to reassure myself, I'm sure it won't happen again. It's Mike, he's better than that.

I was so wrong.

After that first episode, it was rare that I'd see Mike sober. I'd go with him to all the parties, and I always ended up pulling a very drunk Mike off of one girl or another. At first, that was it, he'd just get drunk and start making out with random girls. Then it got worse.

He started yelling at me. Every time I'd pull him off of someone at a party, he'd yell at me and tell me to go away. He'd say it was none of my business. He called me worthless, told me I was nothing but a nuisance.

But I couldn't break up with him. At school, he was sweet as he'd always been. It was almost as if I was imagining the terrible person he turned into when he was drunk. But it hurt me to stay with him, because I knew that he'd end up drunk again.

Eventually, he wasn't ever sweet or kind, even when he was almost sober. He started cheating on me. He would go out with other girls behind my back. Several times I saw him making out with another girl in some remote hallway of the school.

Then I started blaming myself. I started thinking that I wasn't enough for him, that that was the reason he was cheating on me. That his drinking was somehow my fault. I started believing him when he called me worthless. I started thinking I was nothing, that I was a worthless little nobody who deserved to die. That's when I started cutting myself.

I got up off my bed and walked into the small bathroom, grabbing my razor as I went and closing the door behind me. I sighed as I pulled up the long sleeves of my purple top, looking at the scars that crisscrossed on my wrists.

This is what I had done to myself. I felt so horrible all the time, because I knew that Mike's problems were somehow my fault. But when I cut myself, everything just went away for a while. I liked that feeling, when everything just sort of disappeared.

I took in a deep breath as I dragged the razor across the bare skin yet again. I leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor, sighing at the feeling of release. Usually after a moment, I'd stop the bleeding so I didn't lose too much blood. But today, I just didn't want to.

More blood flowed from my slashed wrist. I felt my consciousness slipping away. Black crowded on the edges of my vision, and as I slipped into unconsciousness, somehow I knew I was dying.