Isabella

"You feeling alright, sweetie?" My mom stood over me with a basket full of laundry. I squinted as I opened my eyes. The sun shined throughout my room. I tried to block it from my eyes. I must have fallen asleep last night. I didn't respond and pulled the covers up over my face. I was exhausted, despite going to bed at like 7:00 pm. My mom sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed. She pulled the blanket back and felt my forehead to check if I was sick. I groaned and rolled the other way.

My bedroom was grey and white. I liked the neutral colors. My queen sized bed took up most of the room and there wasn't much else besides a few pictures hanging on the wall.

I stared at the picture of me and him. Our laughs and joy were frozen in the moment; his arm was slung around my shoulders. I leaned into his side and the two of us smiled at the camera. We were only twelve years old in that picture. I wondered if that's when he started planning it. I wondered when his thoughts of me turned from friendly to lust. Or maybe he'd always been like that and I just hadn't noticed.

It was impossible to think that your best friend could be capable of committing such an awful crime. You thought that you knew everything about them. You thought that there were no secrets kept between the two of you. Surely, I would've noticed if there was something off about him. If there was something dangerous.

However, I didn't. He was the devil in disguise and no amount of clues would have lead me to the questions I was asking now.

"Mom…," I finally whispered, my voice scratchy and rough. I wanted to tell her what happened but the words stuck in my throat. How did I tell her that the impossible happened to me?

"Mom-"

The ringing of her phone cut me off.

"Sorry honey," she mouthed. She picked up the call, leaving my room.

"Mom…"

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I sat in my bed and traced the newly formed bruises on my arm. My jaw ached and a sharp pain shot through me from down below as I tried to move my legs to stand. I clutched my stomach and hunched over. My eyes closed as I sucked in deep breaths of air.

Inhale. Exhale. In through the nose and out through the mouth. I tried again, slower, this time. My aching limbs screamed in protest. My bare feet touched the hardwood floor, sending shivers down my spine.

I looked around my room and saw my stained underwear on top of the laundry basket. Yesterday's clothes were strewn on the floor. My favorite skirt was now tainted and my pink blouse was covered in his sweat and germs.

Did I provoke him? Was I too dressed up?

I don't know what I did. I don't know what I was thinking, acting the way I did; dressing the way I did. The pain throughout my body was the never-ending reminder of what happened yesterday. The hand printed bruise on the inside of my thighs, my legs, my hips, my arms. The wet sticky blood that coated my skin and my bleeding lip- was a reminder of what happened. Now the picture of his angry face burned into mind.

This was supposed to be a normal Saturday morning.

I was supposed to get up, get dressed and eat breakfast with my family. My dad would read the newspaper before he went fishing on the lake with Jacob's dad, Billy and my mom would try to plant new flowers in the garden, which ultimately ended up dying. Emmett would go hang out with his best friends, Edward and Jasper and wouldn't invite me. He claimed that they were doing big kid stuff that, "little kids" like me weren't allowed to do.

I was, Emmett Swan's clumsy-dorky-unpopular-little sister. My brown eyes were identical to his but he was born with all the looks. With Emmett being a star football player, everyone expected me to have the same amount of athletic ability as my brother.

However, everyone was very disappointed when they met me. I would never live up to my brothers' talent.

After breakfast, I would take a shower before walking over to Angela's house. We would practice singing along to our favorite musical, Dear Evan Hansen just in case we were ever spotted by a talent agent, and then Jacob would come over and the three of us would head over to the Carver Cafe for lunch.

But today is different. Tomorrow will be different and Monday will be different. I stared at my bloody underwear in disbelief. My hands trembled as I pressed them against my mouth, trying not to make a sound.

I jumped at the sound of the front door slamming from down below. It's Emmett leaving, going to do his "big kid stuff."

With the house, finally quiet I went to the bathroom. My body revealed dark bruises forming around my ribs and purplish marks on my throat, not yet very noticeable. I left my clothes in a pile on the ground before stepping into the shower. The knots in my hair seemed tougher to get out than usual. I could cover the damage on my body by clothing and so I basically looked the same except for my busted lip.

An hour had passed by the time I get out of the shower. New raw, red marks covered the only untouched skin on my body. Now, I was completely broken. Thinking, I could wash the bruises away, I scrubbed my body dry until the voices in my mind told me to stop. But I still felt dirty. I felt dirtier then before because the bruises were still on my body and they wouldn't go away.

Getting dressed, I knew that I would have to face my family at some point. I wore the one turtle neck I had and jeans and headed downstairs. I knew that I looked ridiculous, wearing this at the end of August but it was the only thing that covered all of the bruises. I leaned against the doorway of the kitchen and watched my mom put away the dishes.

I guess I missed breakfast.

It's a full two minutes before she noticed me.

"Damn it, Bella," she jumped. "Don't just stand there like a creeper. You know you can help me right? These dishes aren't going to put away themselves." She handed me a plate and the cramping in my stomach starts again. At a turtle's pace, I helped her unload the dishwasher. Each movement, hurt more and more. I ground my teeth together and sucked up the pain.

"Honey, what on earth are you wearing?" She finally noticed. "You do know that it's going to get up to 90 degrees today, right?"

I nodded my head. I dried the plate off, wiping harder and harder. She sighed and handed me another dish to put away.

"I don't understand you, kids," she muttered. "Are you doing anything with Jacob and Angela today?"

I flinched when I heard his name. She didn't notice.

"No," I whispered.

Angela hadn't texted me and I'd heard nothing from Jacob. I assumed they must have gone out with each other. Not that I cared. There was no way I could be near him. I couldn't let myself get close to him.

"Oh, well then maybe you could do some of that summer work," she said. "Or have you already done it?"

"I did it yesterday with Ja-Jacob and Angela." She didn't hear me stutter and just grumbled out loud.

"I honestly can't believe how much work the school gave you. Plus, you have a quiz the very first week of school!" She ranted. "It's your freshman year for Pete's sake! You've already got enough stuff to be worried about like starting at a brand new school. I don't care if you are in that honors math class or whatever. You shouldn't already have this much work."

It felt like I'd been run over by a bus. My head throbbed and my mother's complaints only made it worse.

"At least you'll have Angela. I'm sorry about Jacob," she sighed.

The plate dropped from hand, clattering in the sink.

"Bella!" my mom gasped.

"Wha-" my eyes were the size of saucers.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?"

I shook my head.

"He's going to that school on the reservation now instead of Forks High."

Suddenly, it was as if a big weight had been lifted off my shoulders. My breath hitched and the thought of having the next four years free of Jacob couldn't have sounded better.

"I thought you would have been upset," my mom sounded surprised. "But, between us, I think he has a little crush on you. Why else would he be coming to study with you every day?" She giggled.

I swallowed down the puke threatening to come up. I could feel him breathing down my neck. His lips touched my ear and he whispered, "You're going to stay quiet." It wasn't a question. It was an order. It was a command that I couldn't break.