A/N Hi, thanks to those people who put this story on story alert, etc, but PLEASE can you review. I want to know ways in which I can improve my story, as well as any ideas for what you want to happen. Enjoy this chapter, though :D

Chapter 2: Saved By The Bell

Feeling excited and nervous, I woke up with slight butterflies in my stomach. I glanced at the luminous digits on the clock: 4.57. I was half an hour earlier than my alarm, but I was reluctant to go back to sleep. That would mean that it would be so much harder to rise when my alarm went off. So, I shrugged off my quilt and stood up on the soft carpet. Silently I stretched, then immediately recoiled when I felt the effects of James' previous night's effort on me. I glanced at my arms and felt a lump rise in my throat at the sight of the obvious handprint-shaped bruises. They would be hard to cover up, and I had gym today. Damn.

By the time I had got changed, washed and covered up all the marks, my clock showed 5.45. The butterflies I had woken up with – a reaction to finding out my biology result in class later on – had been replaced by a feeling of hopelessness, and as much as I tried to persuade myself that I shouldn't be scared, I was. Every time I saw James there was a danger. Even at school, I wasn't completely safe from him. The other kids and the teachers were so wrapped up in their own worlds that they either don't know I exist, completely hate me or are just so used to me being 'perfect' that they needn't bother about me. In the tenth grade, the teachers just let you be if you can do the work. They expect it from me, so they don't even try to help.

However that was how I usually liked it. In regard to the school work, I didn't need any help. They give me the work and I do it. I don't have any problems that they can attempt to solve. In that aspect of my life, anyway.

James always knocks on the door at half seven, the reason for my early alarm. I have to finish my make up before he arrives, otherwise he gets physical. Again. Every single morning without fail, as soon as Renee's Chevy leaves the driveway, his Ford replaces it. As reliable as clockwork, his knock reverberates through the house and my stomach sinks. He lets himself in, dumps his school bag at the foot of the stairs and yells for me. This morning was no different. I was in my bedroom tying my hair back when he barged through the door. His eyes skimmed my face and visible skin, looking for any visible bruises or cuts. He smiled widely; the trait that I didn't see enough and the one trait that made me fall for him in the first place. But funnily enough my anxiety hardly declined at this sight, it simply loosened the knot at the base of my stomach. He was satisfied with my make-up, and none of the offending marks showed, but still his smile made me worry: he hardly ever smiled at me any more.

"Morning babe." I gave him my best attempt at a smile and said hi. "Did you finish that English essay last night?" he asked me, and his smile vanished. The essay, which had been assigned that day and wasn't due in for two weeks, was the excuse I had given not to go to his house last night. It was a conversation that had, predictably, ended in an argument. And arguments always ended badly for me.

"Yeah," I responded softly, not wanting a repeat of last night. James never understood why I wanted to get any homework out of the way as soon as possible; he was more of a last-minute kind of guy. "I finished it." I repeated louder when he didn't respond.

"That's good." he finally whispered. "That means that you can come over to mine tonight." My stomach sank at his words. There was no doubt about whether I wanted to go, but if he mentioned it this early then there was also no doubt that he wouldn't take an excuse. "Don't worry, we're gonna have a lot of fun."

"Um, I guess I can make it, unless we get some work -"

"No babe, you can make it even if you do get some work to do. It won't take all night; I'll have you back before your curfew." He ended his interruption on a mocking note. Renee had set a curfew of half eight a couple of years ago, and then by the time it could have done with updating, I was already dreading the time I spent with James, so I never had any inclination to negotiate with her again. It still stood at 8.30.

I nodded at him, and seeming relieved at his victory, he relaxed and kissed me for the first time that morning. It was slow and passionate, very different from his normal ones. I relaxed a little bit: what would happen this afternoon was the least of my worries, the biology results were my more immediate problem. He ended the kiss and drove us both to school. Just like every single morning.


The bell rang for lunch at twelve. I packed my French books into my bag then left the room, last as always. Lunch, though, didn't strictly happen for me. I never ate at school. In fact, I never ate in front of James. He used to pinch at my waist a couple of months ago, not actually calling me fat, but suggesting it. He didn't need to say the words though. Regardless of the fact that I was about average size, I began to believe him. He said things when I ate, so I stopped. Eventually the comments stopped as well, but not until I lost about 5 pounds. Not until he was happy with my figure.

So instead of heading to the cafeteria, I battled against the tide of students and took refuge in the library. The librarian smiled at me as I entered, a toothless old man that everybody called 'The Perv', and for a good reason too. There were all sorts of rumours about him – some involving pupils, others various farm animals – and he was one of the reasons why people gave the library a wide berth. I wasn't as bothered by him as the others though: there wasn't anything that he could do to me that James hadn't already done.

I had set out my books and started my notes, my usual routine, when I felt a hand touch my left shoulder. Startled, I glanced upwards and saw Mr Jenkins, the librarian, peering over my shoulder. He had a sadistic smile plastered over his ugly face, and I struggled to get a grip of myself. My heart rate had gone through the roof and my breathing was following suit. As much as I tried to kid myself I wasn't scared of him, he did creep me out. I swallowed. "Yes?" I asked him, looking back at the table and pretending to read through my notes. "Can I help you?"

"I was simply wondering why you spend so much of your time here." His thick welsh accent was difficult to interpret, but I knew where this conversation was headed. I had been with James too long to have not had this exact conversation with him. He was worried people would talk and suggest reasons why she wasn't sitting with him in the cafeteria. I glanced up at Jenkins, just about managing to arrange a puzzled expression on my face. "Pretty girl like you, I'd have thought you'd have been with your boyfriend."

"I – um – I need to catch up." That was the story James had told me to tell anyone who asked. "I'm going to fail French if I don't put some extra work in."

"Ah." He didn't sound convinced. "And the same goes for chemistry, biology and every other subject that I see you working on I suppose."

"Um…" I couldn't think. Why on earth was he interested? It was well known around school that I was top of every class, and it was probably common knowledge to him, too. Lies wouldn't work. So I focussed on something else to try and change the subject. "Why do you see what I'm doing? Do you watch me?"

It was his turn to blush now. "Um, well, I was, er, I was – "

"You were what?"I started for the second time as I felt another hand grip my other shoulder. I glanced upwards to be met with James' familiar features staring into Jenkins' face. Relief flooded my entire being. He asked the librarian again. "You were doing what? Why were you watching my girlfriend?"

The old man said nothing but let go of my shoulder. James gripped my right twice as hard and I stood up, wincing. He let go as well, and began stuffing my books back into my bag. My fear began to return. I knew this James. I knew how I usually ended up when he got like this. And it wasn't good.

"C'mon Bella," he said when he had finished with my bag. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it – hard – before dragging me out of the room. I took a last glance at Mr Jenkins who met my gaze; then I dropped it when I felt James' eyes on me.

It was raining. James dragged me to the sports fields, which were deserted and out of the way from the rest of the school. "What the hell were you doing?!" This was it: the rage that I knew had been boiling since he saw me talking to Jenkins. "Why were you having a conversation with that perv?"

"I wasn't James, I swear." There was no way out of this, but that didn't mean I couldn't fight I little bit. "Anyway, so what if I was?"

His grip on my arm strengthened at my answer, but I steadily held eye-contact with him. "You – will – NEVER – speak to him again. Do you understand me?" I understood all right, but I didn't reply. His right fist swung at my face, but moments before impact, the warning bell for next lesson rang out. I unscrewed my eyes that I didn't even remember closing, just in time to see his muscular arm drop. He leant in, and spat in my face. "This isn't over bitch. I'll pick you up from your form room. See you later." I gulped, certain that later was something I really didn't want to see.

But life went on. I grabbed my bag that James had dumped in the mud and trudged to my next lesson: biology, wiping my face as I went. The rain fell around me as the tears fell from my eyes. And to think this morning, I had woken up excited. How things change.

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