Hii guys! Welcome to my SECOND attempt at this Fic! lol I really hope you guys enjoy this one better than the last! I do hope that most of you are still reading, because I KNOW it takes me a frikken year to update! But I PROMISE that it wont be like that this time! ENJOY!
disclaimer: I DO NOT own any characters from this fantastic series they call "Twilight" If I did, I would be extremely elated. But sadly they belong to the ever wonderful Stephanie Meyer!
My head cracked against the tile for the second time that night. My father stood over me, whiskey bottle in his hands and what should be chocolate brown eyes almost black with hate.
"I hate you, Isabella! You do nothing but ruin everything you touch! You are a disgrace to me! No wonder why Renee sent you to me, she couldn't bear to be around you and have to deal with your constantly annoying presence." My father slurred as he pulled me off the ground by the hair. I didn't scream or cry, I had learned very quickly that he did not tolerate any kind of crying or begging; it just pissed him off more. Plus, I was used to the beatings from Charlie, as I got them almost everytime he was drunk. That was mostly anytime he wasn't working. I never understood why I never told anyone about these beatings that I got almost everyday, I guess it had never crossed my mined because of who he was. I mean even if I did, I wasn't sure if anyone would even believe me. I could see the disapproving faces of my fellow townspeople, shaking their head in shame as they berated me. I could just imagine what they would say, something along the lines of "Isabella Marie Swan, how could you even think to make up such a story like that ?! Your father is the Cheif of Police, so why would he ever break one of his laws like that? Are you lying to get attention?"Yep thats pretty much how it would go. I flinched as his fist connected with my back, knowing that there would be a large bruise there in the morning. My lip and nose were bleeding, causing little droplets to land on the white tile at my feet. My father growled in the back of his throat and threw me on the ground, where I stayed still in fear of being hit again.
"Why don't you just die already. Make everyones life easier?" He slurred again and I felt a sharp pain as his foot connected with my temple, knocking me out cold.
I woke up the next morning in a puddle of blood. I sat up and groaned, my body felt like it had been in a car accident. I could feel that I had a few bruised ribs, maybe even one or two of them cracked. I gasped as I picked myself up off of the floor, slowing my breathing to try to ease the pain. Stay strong Bells, you can do it. I thought to myself as I grabbed a mop and cleaned up the blood that was drying on the floor. I cringed with every swipe of the broom, biting back the pain best as I could. At least Charlie wouldn't have another reason to use me as his punching bag when he got home. After I had completed that almost daily ritual of cleaning up my blood, I very slowly made my way up the stairs leading to my room and shared bathroom. I went through the clothes in my room, trying to find something that would cover the new bruises that I had acquired the night before. I finally decided on a hunter orange long sleeve thermal shirt with a black tee shirt to put over it, a pair of denim skinny jeans, and hunters orange lowtop converse. I was proud because I had bought all of my clothes with money from my job at Kara's (a little diner in the middle of town.) I walked slowly to the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on as hot as I could stand it and stripping out of my bloody clothing. I groaned in bliss as I stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray help relax my tense and beaten up body. After about twenty minutes, I got out and wrapped my towel around me, and wiped the steam off of my mirror so I could see what the damage was today. I gasped when I saw I had a very nasty looking black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip. Usually,Charlie was so very careful not to hit me in my face. He never wanted any marks to show so people wouldn't ask questions, but I guessed last night he got a little ahead of himself. I got dressed, slowly again, and put some concealer on my face to try to cover the black eye and bruise. It worked well enough, but I could still see the bruises a little. The busted lip, however, was something I could do nothing about. I carefully braided my mahogany hair into submission and put on a light bit of eyeliner. I walked into my room and grabbed my bookbag and wallet, heading down stairs in just enough time to hear a beep sound outside. My best friend Alice sat outside in her canary yellow Porsche waving at me impatiently to hurry up.
"Hello Miss! What's up?" I inquired as I clicked the seatbelt into place, avoiding my best friends' probing violet eyes. She knew, I knew she did, but I denied the hell out of it in fear of someone finding out. I shuddered inwardly as I thought of what Charlie would do to me if anyone found out. It was quiet for a moment before a soft and melodic voice broke the silence.
"Bella?" Her voice sounded so sad.
"Yes?" I turned toward her, plastering the most realistic smile on my face.
"What happened to your face this time? Did you accidentally run into the door at Kara's? Or Did you slip and fall down the stairs again?" The emphasis she put on the words only went to show how little she believed my excuses.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, as if I didn't know what she was talking about. She made a face and gave a small snort of annoyance, which prompted me to use one of my many excuses. "Oh, this?It's nothing, really Alice! I-I just fell. No biggie" I finished, trying to sound nonchalant. Alice grunted disapprovingly, shaking her head at my pathetic excuse. The car had reached a stoplight, and Alice turned her head toward me, worry written across her features.
"Bella, what's going on? You are always covered in bruises in one form or another. You lie to me about where you get them from, even though I'm pretty sure I know where they come from."
"Nothing." I replied, my voice wavering for a split second before returning back to normal. Alice, as always, caught the change in my voice and those violet orbs widened slightly as she pressed the gas pedel.
"Oh my gosh Bella. It's your father doing this to you, isn't it?" Her voice dropped very low at this question, almost as if she were talking to herself. I knew she wasn't though because I could see her perfect eyebrows shoot up in shock.
"Alice, I really don't wanna talk about it right now, okay? My father does not hit me. I am just very clumsy, that is why I'm always covered in bruises. Alright?" I guess she must have heard the exhausted note in my voice because for the moment she ended that conversation shooting her eyes towards me as we pulled into a parking space at Forks High School.
"You know that if you ever want to talk, I'm here right?" she squeezed my wrist gently. I could see the sympathy in her eyes. I nodded, touching her hand gently with my other.
"Yea Alice, I know." I smiled at her sincerely this time. She let go of my wrist and I got out of the car feeling my body tense and then relax as I stretched easily. I then proceeded to grab my bookbag from atop Alice's car where I had set it. Not thinking about how heavy the pack could potentially be , I slung it to fast and hit myself in the right sid of my ribs, where the bruised ones were. I bit back a gasp as the sharp pain traveled throughout my upper body and I stumbled forward, running into someone hard enought to ellicit and 'oof' out of them.
The impact knocked me to the ground, causing me to wince in pain. A huge hand shot down towards me and I took it, letting whoever it was I ran into help me up off the ground. I ended up face to face with a guy who was a model/body builder, or at least that's what I thought he looked like. He had golden brown eyes, a shock of curly brown hair on top of his head, and a warm and friendly smile. He was extremely tall, 6"3 or so, and had decent sized arms to go with the big hands that helped me up. Good baby jesus he was beautiful! I felt like I could stare at him for hours. I probably would have if I wouldn't have looked like an idiot.
"I am so sorry about that. I am so clumsy sometimes it even surprises me." I apologized, breathing a bit slowerbecause of the pain in my ribs.
"It's fine, My name's Emmett, Emmett Cullen." He replied, sounding a bit like James bond and sticking his large hand out again and smiling. A jolt ran through my hand at the contact and I smiled back.
"I know you, you're my best friend's older brother."
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