AN: Welcome to my twisted mind guys. I was writing this for me, to clear my head when it occured to me that you guys might actually enjoy it. So, this prologue, for which I apologise if anyone is truly upset by (it was, to say the least, difficult to write), it runs parallel to the real story line. This is Bella's diving board, her reason for leaving. It will have some influence in the story here and there, but really it is what it is, a prologue, setting the scene for the real story. There isn't much information on Bella's past, something I've done on purpose partly because this chapter would end up being several tens of thousands of words long, and also because I want it to be a gradual learning process for you and me. I haven't written this story yet, I've only planned out the major scenes.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all of Meyer's characters are her own, I just like getting to know them.

Cannon pairings, extremely AU and OOC, all human, multiple POV(Mainly Bella and Edward, sometimes Emmett).

Rated M for: Drinking, drugs, foul language, sexual content, violence and, though it will gloss over the goriest of details, and is only really in this chapter, there is rape. So, basically if you're sensitive to anything, as a nice heads up, I suggest not reading this particular tale of woe.

Summary:
Bella McCarty is a vagrant, a lost girl with a past she daren't confront. Edward Cullen is a drug dealer with connections to one of the biggest gangs in Seattle, and he loves it. When the two collide, and Bella ends up with her pockets filled with merchandise, how far will Edward go to recover his stash and get revenge?

Sorry for the extremely long Author's note, enjoy!

Mood Music:

Thomas Newman - Any Other Name

Dinah Washington & Max Ricther - This Bitter Earth

Ludivico Einaudi - I giorni

The frozen night nipped at my skin even through my thick jacket, and the rain seeping down chilled me right down to the bone. With chattering teeth, I steadily plodded along, my feet hurting already from work. With only the flickering glow of a failing streetlight to go by, it was a glum situation.

It'd been a busy night, and with no time to eat my stomach repeatedly grumbled in discontent, once startling a passing bystander. I pulled the hood tighter around my head as the wind fought to whip it off and drench my face. It was huge on me though, so the effort was futile. The rain still snuck in and saturated my hair.

It was still two miles until I got home and I'd have to walk the whole way. Emmett must've left because he wasn't picking up the phone. I hoped he wasn't passed out on the sofa again, as I was sick of picking up after him and his friends. I especially hoped he wasn't passed out on the sofa if his friends were round. Emmett might've been a heavyweight, but his friend James put everyone to shame. Well, maybe not everyone. Amazingly, I'd once managed to drink him under the table.

Unfortunately, when Emmett was 'sleeping' his friends got a little too friendly. No one had ever done anything of course, besides a couple of wolf whistles and a quick grab as I walked upstairs, but it was frankly very uncomfortable. Emmett never believed me when I brought it up however. In fact, half the time he wouldn't even admit to passing out.

The cars passed by ever so quickly, and when I didn't focus on them, their lights just looked like beautiful shimmers of golden ribbon zooming by. Occasionally one would slow down, either ogling my dripping wet legs in my work skirt or debating whether to offer me a ride. Despite my oath to my mother never to hitchhike, if someone offered I'd probably accept right about now.

As the town faded away into the distance, as did the cars and the comforting hustle and bustle of the still busy streets. There was always the faint sound of the resident wildlife, birds that had yet to retire to their nests shrieking shrilly in alarm as you walked by. Every now and then I saw a squirrel skirt across the road, but that was about the highlight of my walk home.

The dark used to terrify me; every occasional cacophony of noise that shattered the dark silence like glass would make me a trembling mess. Walking home at night still wasn't a welcome prospect, but as it had gradually become a more common occurrence, I had learned to deal with it. With Emmett's driving, it was probably safer anyway. It's not like I couldn't drive; I wasn't completely dependant on my brother. He just didn't like me too. "Wouldn't want to wreck my pretty little face in an accident now, would we?" Was his response to me requesting to borrow his car. Not when my pretty little face was still oh so valuable to him as a last resort if he was in debt.

Don't misunderstand me as the victim here, however. I loved my brother. He'd taken me in, fed me, and generally cared for me when my step-mother had grown tired of me taking up valuable breathing room. All he asked was for a little compensation, and if sweet talking the loan sharks into letting a little of the debt disappear was all he wanted, then who was I to complain?

Some might say he was using me, and maybe he was. But honestly, he gave me a roof over my head and when he was sober, I could tolerate living with him. He'd never buggered off for weeks at a time with only a note telling me that he'd arranged food to be delivered once a week.

As the cheap estate apartment buildings loomed up above me, the black silhouettes of the souls of broken building an imposing figurine of despair; I wrapped my arms around myself protectively. I hated this place, day and night. It was the kind of place where your future slipped away from you, absorbed by the thin walls of peeling paint.

There were no doormen to greet me and check if I was okay. Just a glass door that had been shattered over a month ago and no one had bothered to fix it. Instead of getting out my key and unlocking the door, I just slipped through the gap, careful not to rip my clothes or shred my skin on the jagged edges of the clouded glass.

In the lobby there was a huddle of teenagers, no older than thirteen, giggling incessantly from the pot that fuelled them as opposed to oxygen. Other than that, there was the billboard overrun with posters about teenage pregnancy health groups or how to quit smoking in three easy steps.

Shaking my head I swiftly walked towards the steps, ignoring the broken elevator used mainly as a toilet or garbage can nowadays. Skipping up the steps in a bid to get to my apartment quick enough to avoid meeting anyone, I held my breath so as not to breathe in the dire stench of old and new piss.

Eventually, I made it to the fifteenth floor, apartment 101. Ominous, right? Well, this place was almost my version of Orwell's room 101. Pressing my head against the door, I could feel the heavy vibration of loud rap music. With a repugnant groan, I pushed the door open, knowing my brother wouldn't have bothered locking it. No one messed with the McCarty family.

The appalling music only grew in sound as I walked into the main room. Several bodies littered the floor, either passed out or fornicating openly. I saw my hulk of a brother steadily getting it on with a leggy strawberry blonde girl. I'd hoped to slip past unnoticed, but unfortunately for me, Emmett saw me out of the corner of his eye.

Hopping off of the couch and sending his lay of the night sprawling onto the floor yelling in protest, he steadily stumbled towards me. My brother was rather strange looking. I know he should have looked handsome, but with a large scar from his forehead to his lip, he just looked sinister to me. I know that turned some girls on, but knowing how he got the scar just made me angry at him.

"B… Be-ll-a" He slurred, drunk out of his mind. A dumb smile spread across his full lips as he pulled me into a painful bear hug, quite possibly snapping a rib in the process.

"You're drunk. Again." I stated, crossing my arms and refusing to look at him. The stairs longingly beckoned to me, and I wasn't in the mood for him tonight.

The girl he'd been getting it on with sidled up to him, cheeks red with anger but she was desperate enough to let it pass for a chance with Emmett.

"Who's this, baby?" She said in a grating nasal voice. I think she felt threatened by me, like I was Emmett's girlfriend or something. The glare she gave me seemed to suggest this.

"It's my sister!" He exclaimed proudly, grinning and slipping an arm around my neck, showing me off. I cringed away from the smell of alcohol.

"Look at this face, isn't she just the prettiest thing?" He said, laughing and squeezing one of my cheeks.

"Well aren't you adorable, sweetie?" The girl said patronisingly.

"I'm seventeen and just about ready to kick your high ass into the nearest police station if you don't fuck off in the next five seconds." I growled in a lacklustre manner. Vaguely worried, she looked at Emmett to back her up.

"Belly, why's you got to be such a… Buzz kill?" He asked, offended by my behaviour.

"Yeah, Belly. I'm a guest. Why don't you refill my glass for me? I might even let you take a sip if you're a good girl." The girl giggled hysterically, holding her glass out to me. It was still half full, so instead of taking it, I pushed it back towards her so that it spilt over what there was of her shirt, which wasn't much.

"Goodnight, Emmett, nice seeing you." I mumbled, heading for the stairs. His giant hands reached out and grabbed my shoulder painfully, and I knew I'd gone to far. His eyes glowed with anger.

"Get your ass back here and apologize to Tanya. And while you're at it, why don't you act like a normal teenager? Make nice with my friends for once." He snarled, speaking a coherent sentence for the first time tonight.

Fear struck me and I could see his satisfaction at my reaction. Pushing down my pride, I turned to Tanya.

"I am profusely sorry for ruining your… belt." I said sarcastically, looking at the thin strip of fabric barely covering her breasts. Emmett, once again back to his drunk self, smiled happily at my apology and gave me a gentle shove towards the wall of people. I automatically made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping it was less full. I was thankfully rewarded. There was, for now, no one here. I guess my brother had the alcohol in the cooler in the main room.

I turned the tap on, drinking directly from it in my thirst. I doubted any of the glasses were clean and there was no way I was going to risk drinking from an abandoned half filled cup. There was a reason half of them were fizzing, and it wasn't because they were carbonated.

After I'd finished, I found my usual hiding place in the small but empty cupboard in the kitchen and curled up into a ball. If I leant my head back against the sides of the cupboard, I could feel the music vibrating against the wood, but other than that, it was quite peaceful.

Voices flitted in and out as people started to file out from the main room and find a safe place to crash for the night. Each time I heard them however, I tensed up, terrified I would be found.

Eventually, as the noises became quieter and less frequent and the music was finally turned off, I began to relax. I was sure almost everyone was upstairs by the sound of it, or asleep down here. My room wouldn't have survived Emmett's entourage, but there was nothing particularly valuable in there. There wasn't much of anything in there really, besides a bed.

I slowly crept out from my cupboard, desperately needing to stretch my muscles that were sore from being in such a cramped position for so long. I took another sip from the tap, still not trusting the other glasses, when I heard a dark chuckle from behind. Whipping around, suddenly on guard, I spotted James in the corner.

"Emmett said if I waited long enough you'd come out of your hiding place."

"What do you want, James?" I muttered, not able to make eye contact out of fear. He was a huge guy, not Emmett huge, but big nonetheless. His face was pointed and vaguely bird like, and I got the uncomfortable sensation he could see right through me, he could see my fear of him. I clenched my trembling hands into fists, ready for a fight if he tried anything.

"Well, let's see." He said suggestively, walking closer to me. As he came closer, his stance shifted into predatory stance, a mocking grin on his face. I visibly started trembling, ready to scream but I couldn't find my voice. As he came within grabbing distance, the lump blocking my throat suddenly shifted and as I was about to let out a piercing shriek, his hand clamped round my throat, making me cough and splutter instead.

"I think… I want you." He hissed in my ear. As I lifted my leg to knee him in the family jewels, his other arm, the one that wasn't choking me, immediately blocked it. With a swift movement, he propelled me into the kitchen work top, the edge jarring my spine and winding me. Tears streamed in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet.

He came up to me again, plastering his lips over mine to swallow my screech. I bit down hard on his lip, drawing blood and, more satisfactorily, a surprised and pained grunt. His fist connected painfully with my ribs, and my eyes widened in hurt. In my surprised, he got his hand on my shirt and began to tear. I began to yell, but again he clamped his hand round my throat. Using his other hand to grab something out of his back pocket, I suddenly felt his hand replaced by something cold and metal.

He had a knife.

As he pressed slightly harder than necessary, he pulled my head up to look him directly in the eye.

"If you scream, I swear to god I won't hesitate to cut your throat. Are we fucking clear?" He asked menacingly. I couldn't answer; too terrified of making the knife cut me by accident. He sighed, removing the knife. I nodded, horrified.

"Good, I just wanna have some fun with you, is all." James said, chuckling. With a swift move of the knife, he slit my shirt open, stepping backwards to admire me. I immediately crossed my arms over my chest, ashamed. He pushed my arms away, which also sent me sprawling onto the floor.

In a move too fast for me to contemplate, he was on top of me, already pulling his own shirt off. I took my chance as he pulled it over his eyes and kneed him hard in the bullocks. As he wheezed in pain, I shoved him off of me and started to crawl away. I knew I needed to get up, but James had hurt my ribs so badly with his previous bunch. Also, I was sure he had twisted my ankle when I fell. I was halfway through the door to the main room by the time a hand grabbed my ankle and dragged me back. The carpet of the main room burned my stomach before the stone floor in the kitchen bruised and scraped me as I was yanked towards my nightmare world.

Before I could do anything, he was on top of me again, straddling me so I couldn't kick him. Using one hand to pin me down, he punched me, hard, in the stomach. Black spots exploded in front of my eyes as I curled in on myself.

He used my moments of shock to hike my skirt up above my waist, and unzip himself. Silent tears filed out of my eyes. I felt him press up against my thigh, hard and ready. I kept my legs pressed tightly together, but another punch in the stomach allowed him to slide his hand between them and tear my cheap underwear off, parting my legs at the same time.

"Remember our deal, Isabella. No noise and I'll let you live." He whispered to me, his eyes suddenly wide and alert.

And then he hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me- hurts me

Oh god, why did it take so long? It hurt so much, dear God why had anyone brought me into this world? It wasn't worth it; nothing had ever justified this.

Eventually he finished and he collapsed with a grunt, heaving, on top of me. I hurt in places I never knew could hurt, and I was shaking so badly I was practically vibrating.

"Fuck, Emmett was right. You've never done anything before." He said, chuckling to himself. I just wanted him to leave, or fall asleep so I could escape. I could smell blood, my blood, his blood. It was everywhere, on my stomach, my face... My thighs.

"Hey, hey, no tears Isabella. You should thank me; you're a big girl now. Don't you feel older? More experienced?" He asked.

By god did I feel older. I felt a hundred years old right then, and yet so young at the same time. But I didn't feel innocent. No, I doubted I'd ever feel that again.

"Fine don't answer me, I guess you aren't more mature. Oh, and by the way… If you tell anyone – and I mean anyone – about this, I will track you down, and I will kill you." He murmured to me, before standing up, zipping his trousers up, pulling his shirt on and leaving.

I lay there in a daze for I don't know how long. It might've been a minute, maybe several hours. Eventually I heard a noise from upstairs and gathered what was left of my sanity. Hiking my skirt back down my thighs and pulling what was left of my shirt together, I attempted to sit up and scoot back to the relative safety of my cupboard. The pain brought bile to my mouth.

When the noises upstairs became more active, I knew people would descend downstairs soon and they would find me. The thought gave me the will to roll onto my front and somehow suspend myself on my hands and knees. Sobbing from the pain and the sheer trauma of what had just happened, I desperately scrambled for my cupboard.

Once inside I hastily pulled the door shut, the darkness making me all but invisible to myself. As my eyes adjusted and I started to push my hair, dampened by tears, out of my eyes, I noticed something under my finger nails. Waiting for a couple of seconds to see if anyone was outside, I kicked the cupboard door open an inch, letting a crack of light in so I could examine the mess.

My hands were smothered in red, and skin was lodged under my nails. I must've dug my nails into the skin of his back whilst he… Whilst he-

Oh God, what did he do to me?

Wrapping my arms around my head, I tugged at my hair until the pain brought a sense of reality back. I needed to throw up, I needed to scream, I needed to rewind time and not come home in the first place.

I remembered a technique my friend was taught in anger management to calm himself down. It was to simply think about the basic facts you knew about yourself.

I am Isabella McCarty. I am seventeen years old, and attend a high school in Phoenix, Arizona. I am five foot three inches. I live with my brother Emmett… And so on and so forth. However many times I repeated this I didn't know. It didn't distract me, or make the pain any less real. All it did was give me something to focus on, some sense of reality to cling to until help came.

As footsteps padded into the kitchen, I tensed up and held my breath for as long as I could. However, in my panic, I still couldn't completely halt my sobs, and one escaped me. The sounds outside of my little dark world stopped and I desperately cringed into the back of the cupboard.

By now, I'd have imagined my bad luck would've run out. Apparently not, as heavy footsteps strode towards my spot and the cupboard door swung open. I let out a strangled sob as a very tall stranger bent down to my height. Unlike most of Emmett's friends, he was lean instead of muscular, and looked more human than most of them.

I was in too much of a state of shock to notice more than that and immediately shot my foot out. It hit him in the chest, sending him sprawling. As adrenaline filled my body, it killed the pain I'd been nursing for hours, and I managed to move out of that cupboard faster than I'd ever moved before. Running for the kitchen table, I sprinted round the opposite side. When I turned to face him, he was just getting up, still coughing and spluttering.

"Don't you fucking come any closer!" I yelled, my voice strangely low and hoarse from crying. I coughed, but couldn't clear the blockage.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down there. I'm not here to hurt you." He said, not unkindly considering I'd just kicked him in the chest. He brought his pale hands up in a surrender gesture, like he was attempting to placate a wild horse. His emerald green eyes took in my open shirt, and widened. I thought at first it was from lust, and immediately went to pull it together again. However, as I looked down in order to make my shirt resemble clothing again, I caught a glimpse of the colour of my own skin. It was black. Not the normal green or blue bruises normally are, but an evil purple and black colour. I blanched, visibly and all the adrenaline flew out of my body.

"Oh, god…" I mumbled, eyes wide. I stared at the stranger, half in horror, half in awe. He made a move towards me, and I no longer had the energy to fight. What was the point? I was already dirty, defiled. If he wanted to hurt me, I couldn't care anymore. I wanted to die.

As he reached me, he gently walked me back into a wall so I had something to support me and slowly pulled me down onto the floor with him. His arm went around my shoulder and rubbed soothing circles into my back.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. No, no, no." I cried into his shirt suddenly, a fresh wave of sobs hitting me. This stranger who didn't even know my name, just held me, letting me cry it all out. Well, not all of it. I think my tears dried up before my feelings did.

I drifted off to sleep on his shoulder, eventually, escaping this new world of an agony unknown.