(A/N) Hey everyone. Another chapter out. Thanks for reading my story!

Read and Review.

~Love Maacha.

*Bella POV*

It wasn't a week after that I was called to the main entrance of the main social services building. I sighed my brown eyes where red and puffy from crying. My long brown hair hung in my face covering my eyes though, so no one could see.

"Isabella?" The name rung in my ears. "Isabella Christ?"

My head shot up at the last name. They had it on file now, I was officially Isabelle Christ. I spoke softly my reply, "Yes."

"Look at you!" The arms eloped me in a hug. I couldn't breath. The women seemed nice enough. I looked up as she released me to take in her appearance. She had short blond hair cut in a bob and bright blue eyes that sparkled as she looked me over. Her husband came in shortly after.

"Come on." His words where gruff. Black buzz cut with a black mustache and goatee. He was muscular and tall.

"Come on my dearest little Isabella." She smiled taking my hand. "Welcome to our family Isabella Geneva."

I nodded my head choking back tears. Just like that in a matter of seconds, I had gone from Isabella Christ to Isabella Geneva.

It was a long car ride to nowhere. I choked back tears the whole way. Finally the car pulled to a stop at a small farm-house. The only other house was the one next door to us. It seemed so isolated. I hoped out of the car. Tears stinging at my eyes.

"What's the matter with her?" My new father snapped.

"Who?" My newest mother looked down at me and I burst into tears.

"Shut up!" Mr. Geneva roared. Tear continued to fall.

"Come on little one." Mrs. Geneva pushed me towards the door to the house.

"Don't you go anywhere." Mr. Geneva grabbed my new mothers arm. He swung her around to face him and pushed her away from me. He made a quick grab for my arm and I cried even more. "Shut up!"

He was shaking me. Hard. My new mother just stood there watching. I tried to stifle my cries. After a second the anger in his eyes faded and he released me. I hurried into the house followed by Mrs. Geneva, who showed me my room. I didn't cry that night.

It didn't take long before I was being beat on a daily basis. My new father would come home drunk and no matter where I hid he always found me. I cried the first few times he hit me but on the second week of living with them I had stopped all the tears and sobs. The pain didn't bother me anymore. I had lasted two years here. I was ten. I was stronger.

"Isabella!" My father roared. It was after a long night out. I fled from the kitchen to my room, hoping to avoid him. I made it and shut the door as quietly as possible. "Come out, Come out, little Isabella."

I huddled under my bed hoping he would stay out. I winced as my door flew opened banging against the wall with a harsh crack adn then fotsteps retreating.

"Isabella." Mrs. Geneva's voice was hushed. It was an urgent whisper. "Isabella."

I didn't move. It might be a trap. He might still be out there. Then again she might wanna help.

"Isabella!" Mr. Geneva's snickered. "You can't hide forever."

"Stop." It was Mrs. Geneva who had spoken up. "Don't do it."

"I'll do what I like." I could hear them arguing. Then his foot steps retreated again. I peeked out from under my bed. Only a little. Crack. Smoke and a flash of light clouded my vision. A spray of red covered the floor and I screamed. It was silent in my ears but I knew better. It was louder than I had meant.

Mrs. Geneva lay on the ground in a puddle of red goo, and I knew it was my fault. Another crack. I held my eyes shut waiting for the pain. Waiting to die. Nothing ever came. I poked my head out again to see both of my parents dead on the floor. I managed to crawl out and get over the sight of the blood. I was dizzy and I felt as if I would throw up. I fell to my knees and did just that. I heaved up what little I had in my stomach then continued with dry heaves. My stomach trying to expel what wasn't there. The smell of blood was so over powering I couldn't stand it. I blacked out. Someone must have found me, because I woke up in the hospital. I would be going to child services again in a week. That was the day I began cutting myself. I learned then that this world didn't care about me. No one cared about me. Not my dad or my mother. Not these child services people, or my adoptive parents. It was me against the world. I had to be stronger. I had to be an all new Bella.

(A/N) Big thanks to my reviewers, FrankieDobo, CahBigaiski, bookworm2341, and mariecullen13.