A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm glad that you all are liking it so far!

Chapter 2- Discovered

Last night, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn't hold any of it in any longer. I always try not to cry because I don't want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing that he won. When he's finished hurting me, I normally stand there and just look at him. I let him see what he has, once again, done to me. He looks back at me and sees a handprint across my face, black and blue bruises starting to form along my cheekbone and arms, and blood trickling from my nose. But he doesn't show remorse or sorrow toward me. All he said was, "Clean yourself up." and then he threw a towel toward me. I didn't dare cry in front of him. I waited until I was in my room.

Today, I have to wake up earlier. I have to be sure to disguise my bruises and cuts. When I get to the bathroom, I pull out cover up and concealer and apply it to my wounds. I didn't need people looking at me any weirder than they already were. But then I remembered Lucas. He was the only person who actually showed emotion toward me. Lucas was different, not like everyone else. I didn't get too excited about knowing someone like Lucas because he could disappear at any moment. What I mean by disappear is he could turn just like everyone; treating me like I am not even there.

When I look in the mirror, I don't see beauty. I see pain and hurt. I see someone who doesn't know there place. I see someone who just wants to have someone care. I see dreams crushing right before my eyes. I see no one.

Physically, when I look in ther mirror, I see a girl who is trying to cover up her bruises, and it really isn't working. Behind all of the concealer and make up, I can see them and even though they are covered, I know they are there.

As usual, I have to wear a long sleeve shirt to try to cover the bruises on my arms. I hated that I had to wear those especially if it was warm outside.

When I walked downstairs, I peeked into the living room to find my mother smoking a cigarette and my father passed out on the couch. He probably drank too much last night. I was happy that he wasn't awake.

"Bye Mom, I'm going to school," I say barely above a whisper.

No answer.

I sigh and walk out the front door. I turn and find Lucas standing with his hand in the air about to knock on my door. At first, I think I'm not seeing him so I shake my head and close my eyes. I open them back up and he's still there. I really am seeing him.

"I was just coming by to see if you needed a ride again."

I grin at him. Who would have thought that there were people like him in the world.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks."

"Yeah. I told you that you don't have to be afraid to ask, but I knew you wouldn't ask so I just came by instead. I thought maybe that you had left but clearly you're still here."

"Yeah, I normally don't leave until, well right now."

We walked to his car and got in.

"You can pick the music if you want."

"Thanks, Lucas."

"I normally don't let anyone touch the radio so you should feel special."

Special. I liked the sound of that.

I reached for the radio and went to change the station. As I did, my sleeve slid up revealing the bruises on my wrist.

"Woah! How did you get that?" Lucas said pointing at the wound.

I looked at my wrist and quickly pulled my sleeve back down. I didn't know what to say so I just said the first thing that popped into my mind.

"I, um, I fell."

"On your wrist?" he asked confused.

"Yeah. Well, no. Yeah." I am such an idiot. I fell. What a lame excuse. Why couldn't i have just said I banged it on my bed or something?

He looked suspiciously at me. "If you say so. You can still pick the station if you want."

"No. It's fine. You can do it."

"Oh-kay," he said confused.

I was silent the whole way to school fearing that I would say the wrong thing or one of my bruises would show again. I didn't speak much in the classes we had together either. He would try to start up a conversation, and I wouldn't finish it. I felt so rude, but he wouldn't understand what I was going through.

At lunch, we sat together barely speaking. At that moment, Brooke walked over and sat down next to me. I knew she wasn't sitting here for me, but for Lucas.

"Hey cutie," she said to Lucas, completely ignoring my presence.

"Hey Brooke," Lucas said looking at her then back at me as I lowered my head.

"So, I saw you playing basketball with some of the guys in the Gym and you're really good. I think you should definately try out and I could be your cheerleader," Brooke said flirtatiously winking at him.

"Um, I was thinking about trying out, but I'm not sure yet."

"Oh. You should totally do it. You'd probably start considering that you're amazing at it."

"Thanks."

"Anytime. Later pretty boy," Brooke chirped as she walked away.

"Nice to see you too Brooke," I say while looking down at my sketch book.

"What do you think?" Lucas asked.

"What do I think about what?" I ask.

"Me trying out for basketball?"

"Well, if you're as good as Brooke says you are then you should."

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

"Then I will," Lucas decided. "So what are you drawing there?"

I held up my art that showed Lucas eating a sandwich. He laughed when he saw it. "Peyton, that's really good. You have a lot of talent."

"Thanks Lucas," I say. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you always complimenting me?"

"I just feel like you need to hear it from someone. You should take pride in your work, and I want you to know that someone cares."

I smile at him right when the bell rings.

"You coming?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'll catch up just let me get my books together."

"Alright."

I watch Lucas walk toward the hall and I notice Brooke walk up to him. They laughed for a few seconds, smiled, and talked. I got my books together and started to catch up with Lucas.

When I approached him, all I heard was Brooke say, "Just think about it."

He didn't say anything. "What did Brooke want?" I ask.

"She invited me to a party tomorrow night."

"Oh. Are you going?"

"If you go with me."

I'm stunned by his last words.

"Do you want to come with me? Besides, I probably won't even know my way," Lucas said laughing.

"I would love to go with you Lucas, but it's just I don't think that they would want me there."

"Why not?"

"Because look at me. Look at them. I don't really fit in, if you know what I mean."

"Peyton, you have to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Putting yourself down like that. You know what I see when I look at you? I see someone with greatness and talent and potential. I see someone who is good person. I see someone smart and caring. I see you, Peyton. I see you."

Without realising it, I throw my arms around him and start to cry into his chest. I cry because no one has ever said something like that to me. No one has ever made me feel the way Lucas has. No one has ever saw something in me. No one until now. No one except for Lucas Scott. He puts his arms around me and just holds me tight, not asking why I am crying. I'm glad he doesn't. I pull away from him and mumble a thanks.

"You might want to go in the bathroom and wash yourself up." he says smiling. "I'll wait for you."

"Ok," I say as I walk into the bathroom.

I throw water on my face and reach for a paper towel to pat it dry. I walk out of the bathroom to Lucas who is waiting for me.

"Oh my God Peyton! What the hell happened?" he asks.

I'm not sure what he's talking about. What does he mean?

"What are you talking about?" I ask confused.

"Your face, oh my god!"

Oh shit! I wiped off my cover up and concealer. My cuts were now revealed. I'm such an idiot! Why didn't I look in the mirror before I left?

"I..I..Umm..It's nothing. I just fell! I already told you!" I run my hands through my hair nervously while tears start to form in my eyes again.

I don't want him to see me like this so I run into the bathroom again and that is wear I stay until the end of the day. I cry. I just sit and cry. I'm so embarrassed, so ashamed. I want to disappear. I just want someone to understand how I'm feeling. No one can. Not even Lucas.

At the end of the day, I hear the final bell ring. I wait 10 minutes before I walk out of the bathroom. I don't want anyone to see me. I peek out the door to see if anyone is there, but the halls are empty. The coast is clear. I speed walk to the doors and when I get outside. I run. I run for me. I run to just feel for a little while. I run to stop the pain and emptiness. I run.

I reach my house, but I stop. I don't want to go inside. I don't want to be hit for nothing. I don't want to see them, but I have to. I have to go inside.

I walk inside slowly, praying to God that my parents are both passed out. Sound horrible, doesn't it? I look in the living room and see my mom passed out, but where's my dad? I hear someone coming down the stairs. Oh, dear God, please just be my imagination.

But it's not. It's him. It's my so called Father. I look at him and watch him pass me. He then turns to look back at me.

"You didn't go to school with your face like that did you?" he asks.

"I had make up on it, but it washed off," I say not looking him in the eye.

"Great Peyton! Just Great. Now everyone is going to think that I abuse you! Is that what you want? You want people to think your father abuses you? You want them to throw me in jail?"

"I never said that," I say barely above a whisper.

"You're lying Peyton! You know I hate liars!"

I start to turn away wanting to go up to my room.

He grabs my arm and turns me around to him. I want to pull free, but I don't try to. If I did, it would be worse.

"Don't you turn away from me when I'm talking to you!" He yells almost making me deaf.

He's drunk. I can smell it on his breath, and I can see it in his blood shot eyes.

"I'm sorry," I say with a straight face.

He pushes me against the wall and slaps me across the face as hard as he can. I flinch a little because of the other wounds he hit. I feel blood falling down the side of my face. He reopened old wounds. He's a sick bastard.

"Stop looking at me like that you bitch!" he yells.

I still look at him. I let him see the blood falling down the side of my face. I let him see the hurt he's caused me. I let him see how mad he is. I am proof of that.

"I said Stop it!" he yells. He grabs me by my hair and slams me to the floor. "Get in your room! I don't want to see you anymore!"

I walk up to my room satisfied. He might have won physically, but I won emotionally. I grab a towel and wipe the side of my face, while I put a bandage on it.

I think of Lucas. I want to tell him how I'm feeling. I want to tell him the truth. I want to hug him like I did earlier today. I know he would try to understand what was happening in my life. I know because he's different. He is Lucas Scott. He is my friend. I don't call people that often because they aren't. But Lucas, he is.

I know that tomorrow will be awkward between us, but I'll try to explain. I'll think of a better excuse. No matter how bad I want to tell him what really happened, I can't. I just can't. THings will be blown out of proportion.

Lucas Scott has given me a reason to keep going when everyone else has been telling me to stop. Lucas Scott makes me enjoy living. Lucas Scott is my savior.

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