A/N: A reviewer brought up a very good question: why is Scarlett the way she is? (was... haha) So I have decided to make a little in-between chapter, relating somewhat why she is such a bitch... I promise in the next chapter we will go back to Tom!

Scarlett's Childhood

Scarlett woke up. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and sat up with her feet hanging over the side of her twin bed. Yawning, she stood in front of her full-length mirror and examined her stomach and ribs. Large, purplish bruises were blossoming in a bizarre polka-dotted pattern there. She then turned to view her profile, and there were more. Yellowing patches of long- bruised skin stood out against the stark paleness of her arms. Warily, she laid her hand against her stomach and winced. She sighed, and selected a blue sweater from her sparsely populated closet. The forecast for that sunny day in May was 80 degrees.

7:00 AM came, and Scarlett tiptoed down the stairs. The bus never waited, and she couldn't afford to miss another day of school; she had missed 20 days at it was. Much to her extreme distress, however, she heard a male voice calling. It was a deep, rich bass voice with a musical quality to it; a voice that you would expect to hear on a Jazz CD, or perhaps a record. But Scarlett didn't associate her father's voice with music, nor anything else remotely pleasant. When she heard her father's voice, she thought immediately of bad

(beat bruise pain punch hurt blood)

things. This was the voice she always dreaded to hear. But she heard it that sunny May morning.

"Scarlett, are you meanin' to go off to that damn school of yours without giving a proper g'bye to your Father!?" boomed her father, more affectionately known as "Dad" (on his good days, at least.).

"No, d-d-dad, I was just guh-g-going down the stairs fuh-for a se-sec-sec..." Stammered Scarlett, as she timidly made her way back up the stairs and to her dad's room. She pushed the door open and was greeted with a shout.

"Scarlett, shit girl, how many times I gotta tell ya to knock first, goddammit?!" He bellowed, starting to ride from his bed.

"Daddy, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear!" wailed Scarlett. She backed out, shut the door, and knocked on it.

"No! You can't come in! Go downstairs and make me breakfast! Goddamn these women when they don't do their job! And get me another beer, wouldja, my mouth is bone-dry. Go on now, git movin'!"

Another beer? Thought Scarlett. He's drunk already!

"But daddy, I got school, and if I miss another..."

"Holy Christ, child! I don't care 'bout no god-forsaken school, when the important thing is helping your father, hear me!?"

"Yes, sir." Scarlett brought a hand up to her face, pre-empting the tears that were soon to fall. Now she would have to repeat the 7th grade, having missed so many days. As she headed downstairs, the tears began to spring from her eyes. They soon gushed to a waterfall that obscured her vision. She tripped and fell the last three steps to the living room floor. Sniffling, she lay on the ground for as long as she dared. Then she slowly got up to do her father's bidding.

This will never end, I know it, it will never end-

She would have never guessed how true that thought would be.