I'm sorry I haven't written for a while but my sisters just been admitted to hospital and I just can't write happy story's. So I thought I would write this one. I also had my first case of writers block so I just felt like I couldn't write. But thanks to everyone who reviewed and all of my friends that kept me writing.

Chapter 3

Cynthia and my 'parents' have gone out.

I'm scared to know when they will come back but no doubt that they will be drunk. I hate them.

Esme has always told me never to say that I hate someone because it will never be true. But I do hate them and I always will.

I wish that I was in a coma and that it was all my imagination but I know that its not true.

I can actually feel the pain and I actually cry myself to sleep.

I have the cuts and the bruises.

And the never ending sorrow of being stuck with them.

There has to be something wrong with me to be stuck with them. If I had been good as a child I wouldn't be treated like I am now.

If I was more like Cynthia I would be better in this family.

I'm scared of my own family.

And the door has just slammed meaning that 'they' are home.

I tided, cleaned and polished everything. I made their beds I put water and headache tablets next to their beds for the morning. I went food shopping and had to use all the money I had found out on the street.

Of course the food wasn't for me.

Sometimes I would take an apple and a bottle of water to school and if I'm lucky enough and they are still passed out in the morning I would even take a dollar to buy some bread. Maybe even a cookie from the school cafeteria.

The best days is when Emmett and Bella come and sit with me. They just keep shoveling food into my mouth.

But I don't complain.

I guess its their way of being kind and caring.

But they have never seen the bruises.

Or the scars down my sides.

I would usually cover it up with make-up so Esme, Carlisle, Bella and Emmett don't ask questions. The last thing I want to do is put my parents and sister into jail.

Because I know that when they got out they would come and find me. And finish me off.

For good.

In the most painful way they could think of.

I was a good for nothing no-body.

I was useless at everything...

3rd Person

The door slams open and makes Alice loose her train of thought and jump a little.

By this time she has tears tracing her veins in her cheeks and her eyes are so red that it looks like shes been repeatably punched in the eye.

Her dad storms in angry with her because he tripped up on the stairs.

Everything was her fault and it was time to take it out on her.

Her dad laughs at her muffled screams, and even pulls her up by the hair and pushes her down the stairs straight into the mirror at the bottom.

The impact between Alice and the mirror is too much and shatters on impact all above Alice and goes into her side.

Cynthia and her mother sit and laugh at the show that Alice's dad put on for them.

Alice's POV

"Get up you lazy bitch and clean up the mess you made" My father grunted, gave me one look over and kicked me in the side before going up to bed.

I sat and picked out glass from my sides for an hour and a half before cleaning the shattered mirror and washing the blood stains off the carpet.

I then crawled into my pathetic bed which was a thin mattress and 2 thin blankets, and just cried silently. I must of fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is the rising sun.

I jumped out of bed and got dressed in my usual baggy jeans, huge hoodie and pink t-shirt. I pulled my belt around my waist and it got smaller and smaller.

I sighed in discontent and walked silently into the kitchen and spent an hour and half trying to cover up the cuts and bruises on my face, neck and the top of my arms.

By the time I had finished I rushed to the fruit bowl and grabbed the apple sitting on top. From the sounds of it Cynthia was stirring so I decided not to attempt to get money.

I ran out to my ancient car and sat in silence.

Then came the 6 hours of fun until I had to come to hell again.