"Where do we start this? Well, I could start this off by saying you should pity me and that I'll probably die alone in some back alley. Or I could tell you about how no one has ever given a damn about me or cared about me ever in my life. How both my dead-beat father and drug-addicted mother beat me until I bleed. However, I won't because I just did…" Soft tears fell from a teen's face as she closed her notebook. Her chest covered in gashes and cuts. Her body nothing but skin and bones, her eyelids dark as could be and her wrist covered in scars.

Her room was nothing but a mess, a broken mirror laid on one side of the room, a damaged dresser sat on the other. Her bed if you could call it that was nothing but a single size mattress. The room was a dark, dirty brown color and the carpet matched, yet somehow the carpet was even more disgusting.

"If you must know who I am, my name is Michelle Jones, a student at Midtown high and the biggest loser of them all. I'm nothing but trash, or at least that's what my father has always said. My mother, on the other hand, is often on to much of a high to have a coherent sentence." Michelle huddled in a corner of her room.

"MICHELLE!" Her father's voice rang out through the small apartment the family had. The rest of the apartment was relatively nice. It wasn't great by any means but for the most part, it looked like someone cared.

"Yes?" She asked in a hushed voice, her throat hardly even had the ability to speak after what her father had done to her the night before…

"WHAT THE HELL HAVE I TOLD YOU!" Michelle slowly rose to her feet, she almost let loose a yelp of pain but held her breath by clenching her fist and bit her lip.

"Not to… Not to fall asleep without helping you?" Her father was a burly man, about 6,5 and a rather heavy-set weight. He was a bad drinker when the time came and right now seemed to be the time.

"What was that!" He yelled, he stood at her door. Michelle with every step she took tried to get closer to the door. Finally, after every agonizing and painful step, Michelle opened her door and looked at her father.

"I said, I couldn't go to bed without helping you." the man let go of a small grunt in acknowledgment and pushed his way into her room. This was usual for Mj, after dealing with her father since she was 11 it was no surprise, he would come to her for…

… Later

It was late at night; she had passed out after helping her father and the pain coursed through her like always. She thought she'd get used to it. However, it never seemed to happen. He was ruff and hurt her in every way possible. He never cared about her, he just what she could do.

A small whimper fell from her mouth as she laid on her half-ass pillow. She had no sheets or anything of that nature. Yet that didn't matter, what matter was the amount of pain that was coursing through her.

"What did I do to ever deserve this." Tears fell from her eyes and her nose ran as she tried not to cry loud enough for her mother or father to hear. Her life didn't matter, no one cared, and she knew it and believed it with every fiber in her body.

"You know why you deserve it. You're nothing but a pile of shit that no one cares about." She hated this side of herself, the one that would come back with something so snarky and so good that it would even shut her up.

'I'm horrible, I should just go ahead and DIE!' she yelled to herself, she truly believed she was nothing, no one of importance. Michelle Jones believed that her life was destined for nothing but failure and the only relief from it would be the sweet release of death itself.

Yet, she couldn't do it… How could she? Well, she did know how but still… 'still what?' She asked herself mentally. 'Why should I be alive, who cares about me. I'm nothing and everyone knows it.'

The tears eventually stopped, and her mind began to stop its wondering. However, the pain didn't, she would never feel the release of pain. She was ruined for everyone and anyone. No one would want her, not after what she had let her father do time and time again.

Michelle fell asleep tear soaking her pillow and her body screaming with pain like it always did. She was nothing to no one and the only savior to her soul was death itself. However, little did she know there was another way.

And it required one rather dumb teenager with the inability to fess up and just tell let go the feeling they held within them. This was her soulmate, the one she could feel on nights like this one, the one who seemed to always be in as much pain as she was. She was glad that he wasn't some safe and protected kid who never felt pain because she would feel horrible if that was the case. Him always having to feel her pain must eat at him and her feel his numb her own pain. She was always glad that she was never truly alone, even if she felt like she was.

Authors Notes…

If you're wondering why Michelle currently can't feel anything on Peter's side of the bond, well currently she's in extreme pain and everything else seems to numb itself. "Well a bullet would hurt more." Okay, yea sure whatever you say, but please just take this with a grain of salt, she generally can't feel anything do to her own pain.

Okay, so I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter of this because I've been meaning to write this for like 3 months now. Sorry, the Soulmate thing is just kind of thrown in here, blame me and my 1am reading.