A/N: I hate this chapter, but I have to start somewhere.
Chapter 1
Amanda woke up in her bed one morning naked and sore all over. She shuddered at the thought of what had happened the night before. She walked over to the mirror to observe the damage. There was dry blood around her nose and in her hair. A black eye was forming, and she had bruises on her wrists and shin.
After she had showered, dressed, and covered her bruises to the best of her abilities, she studied the result in the mirror. Now that it was washed, her straight brown hair was silky and you could see that natural highlights in it. Her body was lean and muscular. This was because she was forced to swim and dance for hours each day. Between swim practice, dance and voice lessons, acting classes, and school work, she had no free time, thus no friend. She had to be perfect. She couldn't get an A minus, lose a race, or blow an audition, because if she did, she wouldn't eat for days.
No one paid attention to her at her school. They were afraid of her and she was afraid of them. The only time she wasn't shy was when she was on stage. She loved acting out characters. She would wish that she could be magically transported to where that character lived and have a new life.
After she decided that no matter what she did, the bruises would still be noticeable, she walked to the room next to hers. There were her two sisters, Sarah and Carrie, curled up in the same bed together like they usually were after nights their dad had been drunk. Those nights were becoming more and more often. Since their mother, a model, was gone ninety-nine percent of the time, Amanda was like their mother. She was seven years older then them, they are twins. She took care of them and protected them from their drunken father.
As it was a Sunday in summer, Amanda had nothing to do. Her father would be out looking for a job and going to bars, and she didn't have and lessons or practices on Sundays. After leaving some breakfast out for the twins, she decided to take the train into the city, where she spent most of her rare free days.
A fifteen minute train ride later, and she was in the heart of New York City. The city was fast and crowded. No one noticed her, and that's how she liked it. She bought a newspaper from a news stand, and walked a few blocks to her favorite coffee shop.
She was heading towards her seat, coffee in hand, when a man bumped into, and she spilled scorching hot coffee down her front. "Watch it!" the man said and walked off. She ran into the bathroom and tried to get the coffee out of her shirt, to no avail.
Fuming, she took a seat on a sofa to read her slightly stained newspaper. She began reading, but something didn't seem right. Then she noticed the date at the top of the page, March 1, 2004. It was a day old. "Wow, this is not my morning," she thought to herself as she threw the newspaper away and stepped out the door. She began walking down an empty street, thinking about how she hated her life, when a man came running out of no where and knock her over. She hit her shin on a bar, right where a bruise was already forming.
The tears were forming in her eyes, but not wanting to cry in public, she ducked into a small ally. She sank against the wall, and finally allowed herself to sob like she'd been wanting to for days.
After nearly an hour of good, hard crying, she slowed to a stop. "I need to get back and make lunch for the twins," she thought as she painfully stood up. She was just starting to leave when she heard a call of "Look out down there!" She looked up just in time to see a box falling towards her head, and the world went black.