A/N: Warning! Be careful, because it may get confusing. The wings are a metaphor. They are there to compare how broken her life is to other people's.

These Broken Wings

Prologue

All my life I have believed that we have wings. I have believed that great, feathered, unseen wings are fitted to every person's back, enabling them ecstasy. I used to enjoy that pleasure; laughing and getting into trouble with my friends. I used to love the smell of the air, used to love the feel of grass beneath my feet, and used to love knowing that I had invisible wings upon my back. I used to look in my mirror and envision my wings; tall, graceful ones, with plumes as white as snow. Now, when I look in mirror I do not see the stunning ones I've always had. Now, I see old, withered and graying wings. I see broken wings.

It had been a month since I had taken the train to Charlie, a month since I had last seen my mom, a month since I had last felt any physical pain. What I endured now could be perceived only as much worse. Doctors may have called it depressed, kids at school may have called it mental, but I only knew it as my living hell. And the only comfortable place that I was able to think in Forks, Washington, was my bedroom. Acknowledging that fact, I rolled onto my side to review the memories of terror from last year.

Phil, my step father, had always been viewed by mother and me as a kind, loving man. He would stay home from work whenever Renée or I was sick, often fixing dinner and cleaning the house. My mother thought she had finally found the perfect man, and I thought I had found the perfect fatherly figure. But we were proved wrong. A few days after she married Phil, we were shown his true nature; a monster.

The first time I was beaten was when I came home from school after Phil and my mother had returned home from their honey moon. I had set my back pack down on the counter and smiled at my mother, who was washing the dishes. "How was the trip?"

My mother turned to me, her expression slightly pained. I grew concerned, and became worried when Phil stomped through heatedly. He glared at me, his fingers choking a beer bottle. "Where the hell were you Bella?" He thundered.

"At school." My voice slightly wavered. I had never seen him behave like this before. He rolled his eyes.

"Like I haven't heard that excuse before!" He exclaimed, sneering unkindly at me. My mother spoke hesitantly to defend me.

"Really, dear, she had to…" She never finished her sentence, because Phil unexpectedly lashed out on her. He back handed her cheek, leaving her quiet and ashamed as she rubbed it.

"Shut up!" He told her and then turned back to me. "And next time, don't even think about not cleaning up after yourself! You don't do the dishes, you don't get dishes!" He took one and flung it at the wall next to me. I shrieked and cowered in the corner as he stomped out the house. The next minute, we heard the loud screech of his tires as he pulled out of the driveway and raced out onto the street.

I walked over to my mom, still petrified and confused at what had happened. "Mom? Are you okay?" I asked, but she didn't raise her head to look at me. "I'm going to go call the police…" I started, but was stopped when she grabbed my wrist frantically, her eyes wide in terror.

"NO!" She cried and then regained herself, "Please, no, Bella. He's just drunk, it wont happen again." I sighed, and sat by her, attempting to console her.

Phil came back late in the night. He left fresh flowers by my mom's bedside and a note that said 'Sorry' by mine. I didn't know how that was supposed to mend my mother's broken heart, but he pulled it off, promising us that it would never happen again. I soon learned to doubt his words.

When I was older, I stayed out later. One time, I was staying at the fair with some friends after school. I was going to call Phil, but my cell was dead. Strangely enough, none of my three friends had their cells with them. And to make it worse, we could not find anyone that we recognized at the fair. I ended up getting home around nine, but when I did and saw Phil's angry face, I figured that I probably had a curfew.

"May I ask what you thought you were doing at this hour?" His words were clipped and foul, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. I looked at him warily, knowing that I would probably get beaten for my answer.

"I was out with my friends, at the fair…" I said, as if it were obvious. I had brought up the subject at breakfast time, so I assumed it would be all right…

"And why didn't you use your f cell phone?" His said, his voice raised and his eyes flashing. "You could've let us know instead of keeping us up all night, worried sick!"

"It was dead, Phil. And all my friend's cells weren't usable." I shrugged, hoping he would drop the subject. He didn't. Instead, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and dragged my face just inches from his.

"First, I am your father and you will call me father." Once again, his temper flared. "Second, you need to take responsibility for situations like that and get a cell phone. Third, I do not appreciate this behavior with boys." The last sentence shocked me.

"What do you mean? Garret's my friend." I stated, calmly.

"You know bloody hell what I mean! Kids your age, getting drunk and doing it in the back seats of cars! No wonder you were late!" this time he yelled, throwing me to the floor. I curled up into a ball, defending my ribs and face. "Get up!" He growled and kicked me in the stomach. "Get your lazy ass up and look your father in the eye! You good for nothing, piece of shit!" he pulled me up, only to put a fist in my eye again. He continued to beat me relentlessly, and after the pain was at full blaze, he stormed out of the house and into his car, leaving me crying and broken on the floor.

"Bella, we have to hurry." I heard my mother's voice next to my ear just a few minutes later. "Come on Bella, we have to go now."

I slowly rose, wincing as old cuts opened and new bruises started to take form. My mom grabbed my arm, tugging me out to the car. She placed me in the passenger seat and got in the other side. Driving like a maniac, we left the house. After a few minutes, I worked up my courage to speak. "Mom, where are we going?"

"Don't ask questions, sweet hart. Just try and get some shut eye." I nodded feebly and dozed off to sleep. When I woke up, I heard huge planes streaming ahead. An airport.

"Now take these bags and these tickets. I have enough money, clothes, and other necessities for you to get to Forks. Now when you get there, I want you to take a taxi to the house and give Charlie this." She handed me a letter. "Now go, sweetie. I have to get back. I love you."

"But mom! Aren't you coming too?" I was frightened. I had always thought that we would get away from Phil together. But now, it didn't seem to be that way. I felt the tears begin to well up at the bottom of my eyes and my throat growing tighter and tighter as she shook her head and hopped back in the car. Her eyes were frightened as she struggled a small smile for me. She looked as if she was about to say something else, but then thought better of it and left me standing in front of the air port.

After a few snacks, one bathroom trip, and five turbulence warnings, I made it to Forks. The plane landed smoothly, even as the clouds began to gather around us. I scowled, waved for a taxi, and sat in silence for the ride to Charlie's house.

I got there with the rain beginning to flood the streets. "Here you are Miss. That will be twenty dollars." I handed the driver his money, and he tipped his hat to me. "You have a good day, Miss." I nodded, and looked at the house. It was a normal sized house; two stories high with gray paneling, navy blue shutters, and a white porch. The screen door was shut, but the ivory door behind it was cracked slightly open. Sighing, I grabbed my luggage and dragged it up the steps to the house. Hesitating slightly, I reached out and pressed the door bell.

Charlie opened it in a matter of seconds. His eyes were wide; obviously he hadn't expected me to come. The silence and the screen door hung between us, but they soon were no longer there. In a matter of seconds Charlie had wrapped me into a bear hug. "Bells! You're actually here!" I felt the breath whoosh out of me, and patted him on the back in response so that he would let go. "Your mother called and said you were, but I never believed her! Why are you here?" I froze. I couldn't deal with that kind of curiosity. My mother had specifically told me to never tell Charlie about Phil's rampages, and I was not about to break my word. Thankfully, he continued. "Never mind that, come up stairs and I'll show you to your room!"

That had been a month ago. Now I was in that very room, attempting to get sleep. It was rather hard, considering that Charlie had told me that sooner or later, I would have to go to school. And tomorrow would be my first day. School. I groaned with memories of Phoenix. I did not wish to have friends, nor an education. The only thing to do would to be to sit in the back of the class and think of my broken wings. I would sit alone and tend to my broken wings alone, and in that way I would be what I truly wished to be: invisible.

A/N: Yeah, it's pretty bad. It's just the beginning, so I'm hoping it will get better. Please review! And I guess I'm going to have to say this later on, so I'll say it now. I do not own twilight. Every one happy? Good.

-NewLeaf