A/N:I kinda felt bad only giving you that one tiny chapter after so much waiting . . . so here you are! I'm a few chapter ahead of myself so i thought I'd give you guys a treat! :) Don't expect this all the time though, it's just because the last chapter only ended up being like 10 lines long, it looks bigger in real life! (That's what he said). I'd like to once again thank my AMAZING beta snakequeen1, she's the reason I even bothered to start this, so thanks :). Please remember that this story is RATED M for good reason, and there is some mention of abuse in this chapter. If this might offend you, do not read it. Remember there is a reason why I rate my stuff M, it isn't just because I have the mouth of a sailor.

I do not own Twilight, but I do own a Robert Pattinson autograph (I know I was excited too! :D)

Reviews are like cookies, warm and satisfying :)

Happy Reading!

Frenchy_x

Chapter Five : BPOV

I drove home slowly, not really wanting to get there any earlier than necessary.

I saw people getting annoyed at being stuck behind me but they didn't say a thing.

Doesn't mean they didn't gesture though . . .

However, mostly they just assumed that because my truck was so old it couldn't go above 50mph.

This wasn't true.

Jake had done a killer job on my engine; he's so talented like that.

Or he was. . .

I took one hand off the wheel and draped it across my torso hoping that it might ease the pain that lanced through my heart.

It helped.

A little.

I groaned out loud at myself, I wanted to be able to remember Jake and Charlie. There were so many happy memories associated with my childhood and every single one of them involved Charlie or Jake.

La Push Beach. The Tide Pools. Cliff Diving. Falling in. Trekking back to Billy's. Spaghetti on the porch. Laughing. Smiling. Hugging. Building Motorcycles in Jake's shed. Taking the heat when Charlie found out.

All these images whirled through my mind like photo's on a slide show, so many happy memories. So much love. And yet all it did was rip me up from the inside out. I had to pull over there was no way I could continue driving this time.

Pulling off the highway I allowed my truck to roll to a stop on the grassy verge, and then the tears came.

Not the nice calm ones you see in movies or the silent ones people claim to have when they're in too much pain to acknowledge them. No.

Body shaking sobs wracked through my body as I screamed into my upholstery. Sob after sob ricocheted through my frame as the images continued to play through my mind. I was fairly sure I was snotting all over my chair but I couldn't bring myself to care. So I just lay there, curled up in a loose foetal position and allowed the pain to submerge me.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours later when my sobs slowly transformed into hiccups, then eventually stopped altogether. I took a deep shaky breath, sat up and looked at myself in my rear view mirror.

I looked awful.

The dark circles under my eyes seemed to be exaggerated by the red puffiness that gave away I had been crying, my face was red and blotchy and covered in thin sheen on sweat which caused my lifeless hair to cling disgustingly to it.

I couldn't go home looking like this.

I reached across the seat to my back pack and pulled out a hair brush and a bottle of water. Brushing through my hair quickly I scraped it back into a tight pony tail. Then pouring some water into my hand I quickly scrubbed it over my face before taking a deep gulp.

I winced slightly as I swallowed. All that screaming really had done a number on my voice box. Looking in the mirror again I can't say I looked brilliant, but I looked better. Taking a deep breath rolled down my window, put the car in the gear and drove off toward home.

It was 6:15 by the time I pulled up into my driveway. I really was going to get it for being so late back. Sighing I pulled my back pack over my shoulder and jumped out my truck cab. Slowly stomping up my porch steps I unlocked the door and went inside.

"Mom?" I called out into the hall.

"ISABELLA MARIE SWAN!" ah, and so it begins. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" she came barrelling in from the kitchen, stumbling slightly. Drunk already. She looked me up and down clearly looking for some life threatening injury that had caused me to be so late.

"I had to go to the library to get a book out for school." I had never been a good liar, but I'd gotten a lot of practice these past few months, so I sounded almost convincing.

"Bullshit, what's his name?" My mom glowered at me from her stance leaning against the door frame to stop her from falling.

"There's no guy Mom, seriously, I've got a . . . um . . . Biology project due and needed to get a book out. That's it" My voice was a little too quiet for my liking but I was starting to feel guilty about lying.

Looking up into her eyes I saw pure unadulterated fury shine within them.

She lunged across the hall at me, grabbing me by the hair and snarling into my face

"YOU LYING WHORE!" she stank of booze and it took all my self control not to avert my face, or it would just infuriate her more.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU WERE DOING; SPREADING YOUR LEGS FOR THE FIRST GUY THAT SHOWS AN INTEREST!" Her nose was touching mine now.

"No, Mom, honestly, please believe me you can call Mr. Banner, check my bag, PLEASE!" I knew she would do none of these things.

Her voice took on a deathly whisper "Get out of my face, whore" and with that she flung me down to the ground. Even though my Mom's a small woman she has some strength behind her so I hit the floor hard, my head cracking against the bottom step.

Tears sprung in my eyes and I felt blood seep into my hair. But I couldn't cry. Not in front of her.

She looked down at me and smiled.

"You gonna cry now baby? Want Daddy to come and make it all better?" she said all too sweetly before turning away from me and walking back to the kitchen.

Getting to my feet, albeit a little dizzily, I crawled up the stairs to the bathroom, pulling off my shirt I looked at myself in the mirror. Patchwork of black and blue, sewn together by red cuts or burns, I sighed, my eyes lingering on the cuts on my arm for a second longer than the others.

I still had control over something.

Cleaning up my head wasn't bad, the cut was relatively small compared to the amount of blood there was, head wounds bleed like a bitch. After the bleeding stopped and the dried blood was washed away I saw that it wouldn't need stitches, thank God.

However, it was very prominent and sore looking on my forehead trying to cover that up in the morning would be a bitch.

Looking at myself closer I was disgusted; no wonder my Mom couldn't love me. I was nothing. I was a failure. I was a fuck up no one wanted.

I was worthless.