Chapter 2: Sucess

Nessie's POV

"Where the hell have you been?!" my foster dad screamed the second that I walked in the door. I'd just gotten home from meeting with the publisher who would publish my story. My mother's story. It was already 9pm.

I didn't say anything. I didn't know what I was going to say because I didn't want my foster family to know about me getting a book published. They would find a way to steal that money from me. At least I had a secret bank account they didn't know about. It was my mother's bank account that she'd opened before she died. Now it was mine.

I suddenly felt a hand hit the side of my face really hard. The force of the attack so fierce that I stumbled backwards and my head hit the cabinets.

"You stupid ungrateful little bitch! You were supposed to be home hours ago! Because of your sheer selfishnessness your mother had to cook dinner instead of you,"

"She's not my mother and she never will be!" the anger rose in me fast. My foster dad was out of his seat so fast that I wasn't even aware of what was happening until he grabbed me and slammed me against the wall. His grip on my throat was so tight that I feared I would pass out at any second.

"We took you in and gave you a home and this is the kind of disrespect that we get in return?! You ungrateful little-" he took one hand off of my throat and punched me in the stomach so hard that I couldn't not breathe no matter how hard I I could not breathe no matter how hard I gasped for breath.

When he finally released me my body slumped to the ground. "Get out of my face now!" he hollered.

Despite the pain I got up as fast as I could. I ran up to my room as fast as I could. I changed into pajamas and then went to the bathroom to inspect the damage. There was a brand new purple looking bruise on my left cheek. Nothing I couldn't cover up with a little makeup. I lifted my shirt to look at my stomach and saw there was a nasty shade of black and blue.

I quickly grabbed some tylenol for the pain. I fell down on my bed when I got back to my room. I dug my old cellphone out from underneath my bed. My phone didn't have much use these days as I could no longer call or text anyone. My phone plan died when my mother did. But I still had all of my old pictures and of course the video I made of her when she retold me the story of the lion and the lamb. Twilight. I plugged in my earphones just so that I could listen to her.

Listening to my mom's voice was very comforting to me. Even though I would never see or hear again she would live on in her stories. Sometimes I wished they were real. Oh what wouldn't I give to live in a world where things like vampires and werewolves existed? I slipped into blissful unconciousness as I listened to my mom.

Three weeks later Twilight was released into the world. The book was an immediate success. Two weeks after it's release it ended up on the New York Time's bestseller list. It didn't change my situation though. Namely because nobody knew that it was me. I used the pseudo name R. Carlie. Okay so I used my first initial and my middle name. Hardly anybody knew my middle name was Carlie and R could mean anything.

Other than my bank account getting fatter nothing changed for me. I was still the strange ultra skinny girl that nobody noticed at school. I was still used as a punching bag by my foster family. Well mainly just my foster parents. My foster brother Justin wasn't as horrible as they were. In fact he was actually nice to me when they weren't around. It was odd really.

What was even more odd was seeing people actually reading my book. Over the course of several weeks I would see more and more people reading my book in the school cafeteria or after finishing work for the day in class. Then I would hear girls talking amongst themselves about my book. How they all dreamed of having an Edward of their own.

It was truly a craze that was spreading like wildfire. It was impossible to not be shocked over the success I was having. Yet I wasn't happy. Happiness was something that had eluded me for so long that I didn't believe that I would ever be able to achieve it ever again. I'd sunked into a deep depression since my mom died and my life turned into one hellish nightmare from which I could never awaken.

"Hey Nessie!" I heard Justin yell the second I got home and closed the door behind me one Friday afternoon. I was scared to listen but terrified to ignore.

"Don't worry mom and dad are gone on business for the weekend," he said as he walked into the kitchen. I tried not to let the relief show. "You're safe,"

"But you're here," the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. When I looked at him I was surprised to see that he looked sad and ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry for what?" I asked him. "For hurting you. I-"

"You what? If you're sorry then why do you do it in the first place?"

He sighed. "You won't believe me if I tell you,"

"Try me. I consider myself a reasonable person. Why are you sorry for hurting me?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you. Before you came along I was the one they always hit and threatened. I know what it's like. I still have the scars,"

He lifted his shirt and I was shocked to see a lot of scars and what looked like cigarette burn marks all over his body. In that moment I knew he was telling the truth. Although it baffled my mind since he was their biological son. "When they got you they told me they'd stop hurting me as long as I tormented you along with them. It's very sick and twisted but I felt like I didn't have a choice,"

"So that's why you're always nicer to me when they're not around?"

"I didn't think you noticed,"

"Oh believe me I did. I just was too afraid to ask,"

"I'm not going to do it anymore though," he added. "I can't keep going along with their abuse. Nessie I'm sorry for the pain that I caused you. I'm so sorry for all of my actions,"

I closed my eyes and thought the whole situation all over. I could forgive him. I could not amd would not forget but I was capable of forgiving. Especially now that I knew a little more about his past.

"Anyway I was just going to tell you that you got mail,"

"Mail? From who? I never receive any mail,"

He hander me an envelope. "I think it's from Italy,"

He was right. It was postmarked Italy. Volterra, Italy. I decided to rip it up.

"You're not going to read it?" He asked me.

"I don't know anyone from Volterra, Italy. So it must be a mistake,"

"That is odd,"

"Very," I agreed.

I continued to rip up the letter into tiny little pieces before throwing it in the trash.

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