The silver blade of the kitchen knife glided up and down my forearm, and I shut my eyes tight, fighting back tears. I thought of every time I was forced to do the unthinkable, for him. Every time he hit me, every time he broke me, every time he destroyed me. I turned the blade sideways, hitched it up, and ripped it down. The pain only bothered me for a second, as I was on the ground the next. I slipped into an unseeable blackness.

Once I came to, an impossibly soft voice was shaking me from my unconsciousness but I could not hear a thing he said. I first saw the completely angelic face, and next the blood drowning all over my arm. The slit I made gushing it impossibly fast. I was a about to die, unless she did something. Then behind him, I saw the faint figure of my father walk in the door. His face turned completely demonic, and he turned to face him. I don't know what came next, but I heard an audible snap.

I woke up, in white sheets, my wrist ribboned up in gauze. Above me was same unfailingly beautiful face, holding my gaze, with violent amber eyes. To my right in the door way was an older doctor, and as I looked back to see my savior, he was gone. Then the doctor approached me, apprehensive, apparently because he knew I attempted suicide. He looked at me warily, not knowing where to begin. I saved him the break.

"How did I get here," I asked, in a crumpled defeated voice.

He cleared his throat and then began, "You must have came here yourself, because we found you, unconscious, on the step of the hospital. We called your house from your phone, it was in your pocket. Know one answered so we, uh, sent someone over there." He took a quick glance at the door, maybe not wanting to tell me what happened. "The place was burnt to the ground honey," he told me, full of remorse. I stared back at him, I could not shed a tear, because hopefully my father was inside, with the ashes. He obviously did not sense any remorse in my expression. "The firemen found that it was your fathers cigarette, in the recliner in your living room; he did not survive. We have made arrangements for you to move in with your aunt Emily, in Forks, Washington. She will be here for you tomorrow." He glanced at my wrist, not knowing what to say. "She says she will set up therapy for you." He quickly finished, and got up, leaving me to my thoughts. Great, the failed suicidal, what a reputation I have to my name.

The next day, I collected the clothes I had one last night, and the sweats I bought from the shop downstairs. I headed out of the room with Emily, or that's what I preferred to call her, as opposed to Auntie, or something asinine like that. We climbed into the car, and I set off to begin a new life. On the highway, many questions plagued my mind, who was that surreally beautiful man, and how had he found me? Would I ever see him again? I thought these questions through, as we drove away from my little sad life in California, and I left it behind, as I fell into darkness.

I awoke to Emily's shaking, and I stared up at her. Here we were, in the ever so rainy town of Forks. I had only been here once, Before my father was the creep he became, in a better time. I actually spent my fourth birthday here, and the last one I would celebrate. I only met my aunt once, and that was then. Now I looked at her like a complete stranger, and to me she was. I dragged my bags upstairs, and fell onto the guest bed.

"Is there anything I can get you," she asked, in a completely sympathetic voice.

"No," I replied, dryly, because I just wanted to be alone.

"Okay dear. Just tell me if there is anything you want." With that said she turned and left me to wallow in sadness. Sure I was free of my father, but now I am living with a woman who I barely know, and she knows I attempted suicide. For all she knows, I am some nut job right out of the gutter.

I shut the lights and stared out the window, and again the picture of the ever so beautiful man phased into my mind. Just as I thought this, a cold finger tapped my shoulder, and I turned to look. It was him.

I felt warmth flood my body, as I saw his flawless face, and sturdy features. He smiled at me, a perfect undeniably holy smile.

"Who are you," I felt myself ask.

"That is not important now, what is important is that you are alright, and that you will never try something like that again." He put it so simply, and yet t had a deep meaning, like he really cared for me. As if anybody cared for me.