Disclaimer: My name is not Stephenie Meyer, so that means i don't own Twilight.

Chapter 1

BPOV

I lay in bed, thinking about how my life went from so perfect to absolutely horrifying in as instant. Ever since my mom died in a car accident when I was nine, my dad has absolutely loathed me. I know what you're thinking. How can you know that? He probably loves you; he just has a funny way of showing it. Well, that's not the case. My father, Charlie, makes it clear that he hates me. And I don't blame him for hating me, either. I hate myself.

My mother, Renee, died when a drunk driver ran a red light and smashed her car into the side of a nearby building while she was in it. She was coming to get me from school when she was hit. One of the teachers saw me still waiting outside in a snowstorm in the middle of January at four thirty, and tried calling my dad. He was at the hospital waiting for news about my mom, so the teacher drove me home and stayed with me until my dad got home.

It was around nine thirty when he did and when the teacher left, he looked at me and slapped me across my face. I guess that released some of the pain he was feeling because he did it some more. Then he started using is fists. After awhile, he got tired of punching me so he kicked my stomach for a few minutes.

After he was done beating me, he grabbed me by the shirt, lifted me up off of the ground, looked me in the eye, and said, "It's all your fault! She would still be alive if it weren't for you!"

He threw me back on the ground and went upstairs. I heard his bedroom door slam from my spot on the floor. I just laid there, crying from the pain. The pain of losing my mom, the pain in my body from my beating, and the pain in losing my life the way I knew it.

I went to school the next day, wincing at the slightest movement. Luckily, he didn't hit my face so I didn't have any bruises there, but my arms, legs, and torso were dark purple. I had to choose my clothes carefully so I didn't show anything. Some people would say 'Why bother. This shouldn't have happened to you. You need to let people know what happened to you so it doesn't happen again.' I thought that my dad just had a bad night and was depressed. That is completely understandable since his wife just died, so I thought that he wasn't going to do it again. If he was, then I'd just wait until he'd get less depressed at stop hitting me.

I stopped believing that since now, eight years later, he was still hitting me and doing things even worse.

It got worse when I was twelve. It was my mother's birthday and Dad was out at a bar, wallowing in the loss of his wife, still. He came home around nine, just as I was getting into bed. He came in my room, walked over to me, and pushed me on my bed. He started to pull my shirt over my head, but I grabbed his wrists to stop him. He hit me across my face and removed my shirt. I heard him whisper, "Since you took away the thing I loved most in the world, you could at least make it up to me."

Then he ripped my pants and underwear off of me. I didn't understand what he was doing when he pulled down his own pants and boxer and entered me. I didn't register what he was doing after that because it hurt too much.

It was after what seemed like forever when he stood up, pulled his pants and boxers back on, and left my room. I just laid there, naked and crying, wondering what just happened and why it hurt so much.

In health class, I learned what he did. I thought it was normal for someone's dad to be doing that because no one said that out loud. No one ever talked about their dad doing that to them outside of class either, so I didn't say anything like I should have.

Now, in high school, I threw myself into anything that interested me. Clubs, organizations, councils; the list goes on and on just to avoid going home early. Being in all of those clubs helped me make a lot of great friends. Soon, I actually became popular and was known as the nicest girl in my grade. I helped anyone with anything. Even with the slightest problem, I would help. My friends came to me for anything

I had two best friends: Alice Cullen and Rosalie Hale. They were the greatest. They were so nice and caring. If I was sad about something, they would patiently listen to me while I ramble about it then give me advice to help me about it. I trust them with my life and would tell them everything. Well, almost everything.

No one at school knows that my dad hits and rapes me. I hide it pretty well. I wear tones of makeup and choose my clothes so they hide the bruises that my makeup doesn't cover.

I want to tell Alice and Rosalie, but I'm afraid of what they would think. Would they think I'm gross and not want to be friends with me? Would they feel sorry for me? Would they feel sympathetic? I really didn't want any sympathy or pity and I didn't want to lose them as friends. They were the best things in my life. They really felt as if they were my sisters.

Alice and Rose have the most spectacular boyfriends in the world: Jasper Whitlock and Emmett McCarthy. They were perfect for them and were a few more of my greatest friends. They may not be my best friends, but they were pretty close. They were like my big brothers, my protectors from everything bad in the school and out in the streets; anywhere but home.

They really care about me, too. When I came to school one day with a bruise on the side of my face that not even my makeup could cover, they went absolutely crazy. They would ask me what happened and if they need to kick some guy's ass for doing this to me. I wanted nothing more for them to kick my father's ass for doing all of the things he's done to me, but, me being an idiot, told them that I ran into the doorframe in my room in the middle of the night. They knew how clumsy I could me, so they believed me.

With such great friends, I have a hard time keeping my secret when I'm around them. They make me want to tell them everything so they can help and comfort me. But keeping my secret around them isn't nearly as hard as keeping it around my best, best friend, Edward Cullen.

Edward and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. We know absolutely everything about each other, except for the thing with my dad. We can make each other laugh and cry (from laughing so hard). We can make each other smile when that's the last thing we feel like doing. We know exactly what to do to make the other feel better when something's wrong. We do everything together.

I can make me smile when he smiles, laugh when he laughs. He knows just what to do to make me feel better when I'm down. It seems like he can read my mind sometimes. That's why I'm in love with him.

He's so perfect. He's nice and funny and smart. He's got the most beautiful laugh and voice and smile and face and copper hair and emerald green eyes and everything. I love everything, except for his girlfriend.

Jessica Stanley is so annoying! She's got the most nasally voice I have ever heard. She sounds like an airhead, saying "um" and "uh" and "like" a million times in each sentence she says. I honestly have no idea what Edward sees in her. She's not smart or funny or nice. She's an all-around bitch!

I wish Edward would dump her for me, but I know that that isn't going to happen in a million years. Edward doesn't like me like that. And no matter how much it hurts, I can see why. I'm of an average height, 5'7", I have wavy brown hair and boring brown eyes, and sometimes Alice and Rose say I'm too thin. I have bruises covering all of my body, though he doesn't know about that. I'm plain. Compared to the other girls, I'm nothing special.

The front door slamming brought me out of my thoughts. All I could think was 'Please don't come in, please leave me alone tonight.' Of coarse that's exactly what did not happen.

Charlie opened my door and walked over to me. He grabbed my wrist and threw me to the floor. He started kicking me with his steel-toed boots. I was so close to unconsciousness when he ripped my shirt and bra off of my body. He squeezed my chest then ripped my pants, along with my underwear, off of me. When he entered me, I went off to my happy place.

In my happy place, I was with Edward in the meadow when we were little. There were wild flowers everywhere, in every color. The trees surrounding the meadow were the perfect shade of green. You could see the sunlight in the big gap in the trees above us. We were lying on our backs in the grass, picking shapes in the clouds. The sky was a magnificent shade of blue; that was rare in Forks, Washington. It rained nearly everyday of the year.

I couldn't concentrate on my happy place when Charlie came violently in me. I was completely disgusted. I didn't want him to do this. Can't he find a stripper or something that'll actually let him do this to them? I mean, he's the police chief of Forks! Didn't he have some pull?

When he was finished, he stood up and walked out of my room, with his boxers and pants back on. I stayed on the floor, waiting for the pain to subside a little.

I got up and grabbed my clothes. My shirt, bra, and underwear were unsalvageable. I would have to go shopping with Alice and Rosalie tomorrow. Since Charlie was home, I would have to wait to shower until morning. I put on my pajamas and went to sit on my windowsill.

Staring out, into the sky, wondering why God would put me through this. First, he takes my mom away from me. Then he leaves me with my abusive, rapist father, who threatens to kill me on a daily basis if I tell anyone. It is nights like this that I wish that I'd have never been born.

I wish that one of these days, that horrible man I call my father would put me out of my misery, so I can fly to the stars. I always thought that the most beautiful things in the world are the stars. I always told Edward that and that I wanted to fly to one, to see what it's like there. When I told Edward that, he flipped.

"Do you know what that means, Bella?" he had yelled at me.

"Yeah," I had said, not really caring.

"Why Bella? Why would you want to do that?"

I just shrugged.

"Listen, if you want to fly to a star, then I go too, when we're really old and gray and most likely cranky. We'll do that together," he said.

"Fine," I said. "Do you know what was up with Ms. Alan today?"

He just laughed.

Then for my seventeenth birthday, he had a star registered in my name, naming it Bella (without my consent).

"That's as close to a star as I want you to get for a long while. Got it?" he said.

That was the nicest present I had ever gotten. When the sky was clear, I could easily pick out that one star out of the thousands of others. I would just stare at it, thinking of Edward.

After a few hours, the pain really died down and I was getting tired. I took one more look out my window, and then went to bed. It took a few minutes, but I fell asleep to peaceful dreams of nothing but Edward.

A/N: thank you for reading. check out my other stories and please review!