A/N: I'm setting myself a personal challenge. I don't think it's going to work very well, but… well, we'll see, won't we?
Tasha's Personal Rules:
1) I shall not allow myself to work on any other stories whilst this is still in progress. If the idea comes to my head, I must write it down and finish it later. I plan to be good and faithful to this story.
2) I will not let this story exceed 14 chapters (excluding notes & prologue/epilogue). Speaking of chapters, I shall make certain that each chapter reaches or exceeds 8000 words (still excluding notes).
3) I will stick to the plot and make sure that something actually happens in each chapter, instead of writing random filler about the Brontës.
4) I will finish this story. I will. Nothing will stop me.
Back to the A/N: These rules now officially apply to anything I write. I shall be good. And maybe you could thank me with reviews? I'd love that, and I'll try very hard to get back to you.
This story, on the whole, was thought up on my dog walk this morning, to the song Face Down by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Of course, I shan't name this story so because A- I don't like songfics that much, and B- There is already a story with similar themes called Face Down (which, by the way, is THE BEST. I love it. Seriously, check it out).
Summary: Bella, 21, is in an abusive marriage. After three years of constant beatings, will she leave the man she thought she loved? Slightly OOC, dark, AH/AU
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Twilight. Twilight owns me.

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Prologue: Addicted

Darkness was everywhere in that moment. It was a thick blanket, not over the room, but over my eyes—preventing me from seeing anything unless I held it directly in front of me, inches from my face. There was a silence to couple the darkness: a silence that seemed to ring on in my ears anyway. There was a chilling breeze that continuously changed direction and intensity, making me all the more fearful to move. The chill was cool was painful as it whipped though my nose and into my sinuses; I made an effort to ignore the putrid taste this air left on my tongue and breath through my mouth.

I was scared. There was no doubt it that statement; it was the most apt thing I'd heard in a while. I didn't know what was happening; I was crudely snatched from the deepest sleep I'd had in a while by a sharp slap on my face. I kept my eyes shut, but my breathing became shallower and faster, opposed to the deep, slow breaths I was most likely sneaking in my sleep.

There was a sting on my cheek, but the fear surging through my body was quickly overriding it. I knew who was doing this, but there was certainly a hope within me that he'd take pity on me this time. But, as soon as I had time to register that I had been dragged outside again for what was to come, another sharp smack pounded my other cheek.

I bit back a whimper as his skin cracked like a whip against mine. I tried to blink back the tears, but ended up only pushing them out further.

This of course, only angered him further. He grunted and pushed me up against the outside wall of our pokey little house, grasping tightly on my shoulders, increasing force with every breath I took. I was now silently sobbing, trying my very hardest not to show any more weakness.

When he kneed my stomach, I failed to keel over as I instinctively would have, as his body obstructed me. I tried to stifle the cry as it fought against my lips, threatening to force its way through. This seemed to please him, as he repeated the action.

I was only vaguely aware of the pounds I was receiving. Of course, I felt the surge of pain bolt through my body with every punch, every kick, but I tried as much as I could to focus past them, trusting his reasoning. It was stupid of me, really, not being ready for his return. He came home to me running around the house in a towel, having just stepped out of the shower, trying as hard as I might to fix up dinner for when he came home. Of course, due to the accidental sleep I'd drifted into during the shower, I was much, much too late. I should have known to prioritise. My food could wait.

I concentrated on the pounding of the blood in my ears rather than the cracks my ribs were making. I could hear—and feel—my blood pulse through my veins with every beat growing in intensity.

It wasn't long until I felt the familiar glaze of unconsciousness approach me again. I had learnt by now to keep silent until it was absolutely imperative; the state of being unconscious was one I'd rather induce myself, rather than being knocked into it. The resulting headache was always better that way.

"Baby, please…" I squeaked out, barely audible. I sucked in a breath through my haggard lungs, held it for a few seconds, before releasing it again. I barely had the ability to breath, let alone speak and beg for my much needed forgiveness—not that I really deserved it. It was my own fault this time; much like before, I had bought it on myself.

He continued to pull me away and back against the wall, making my shoulder blades push together and the pain to emancipate to the very tips of my fingers, right from the innermost core of my being.

Trying to not show weakness was a thing of the past now. He wouldn't enjoy seeing me suffer, surely? So if he knew what pain he was causing me, maybe he'd slow down?

Wrong.

There was a moment, and I'm not sure when, where he pushed my legs from beneath me. Of course, I was now only upright because of the firm grip he held on my shoulders, the grip that was sending knife-like shivers down my spine and sent an urgent message to my brain: fight back! Fight back!

But of course, I couldn't fight back. This man was everything to me. I tried to ignore the warnings my brain was radiating and let my eyes flutter open for the first time, focusing in on my Love's onyx eyes. I kept my body perfectly still until he noticed the direction of my gaze, which was some agonising time. Finally, he looked up at my pained expression, and locked eyes with me, as if just checking my state of consciousness. In what little light I had, his own eyes seemed to widen in… shock?

He stilled his saps then. As grateful as I was for the lack of abuse now, my skin seemed to prickle up into goose pimples and sharp daggers shot down my veins, bristling at the tips of my fingers.

His eyes bored into mine with an intensity of a thousand suns, seeming to liquefy before me—breaking from their stone glaze they were previously set in. His entire face softened; the sneer his lips were curled into had dissipated as quickly as it came, forming a small 'o' shape where they parted; his eyes, alongside the new fluidity, had opened out from their scrunched up form, together with the rest of his face, anger had turned to shock. His concentrated face smoothed out instantly, like he'd just realised something. Like he'd just woken up from a bad dream… Like he didn't know what he was doing.

I tried to force my words out as the veil of unconsciousness slipped over my eyes, blocking me off from his remorseful face.

"Jake… please…"

He loosened his grip, letting me fall to the floor and collapse into the painless world of dream.

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A/N: Okay, Prologue is obviously shorter than the rest. But what did you think? Please let me know whether or not you think I should continue. Reviews mean EVERYTHING.
OH, and the song to the prologue is Addicted by Kelly Clarkson. Now, normally I'm not a huge fan of her, but I do like this song and I DO think it fits the chapter well.
Over and out, Tasha.