A/N: You know, this probably sounds rather mean, but it amuses me how much you guys get pissed off by reading this. Yeah, sorry. Go on, read now. Goooooooooooooo~
Oh, and sorry this is really short. Oops. But there's important stuff! Read!
No, wait, one more thing: I have the feeling I might be very hated in this. Or at least Charlie more so. Um, but still, I think you will at least be pissed at me. Um, yeah. But read! I think that was the last thing at least. Oh, and be prepared for a bit of, urm, things at the end. They're - aw, screw it just read!
I'm sitting in the corner that Monday morning, curled in a ball under a blanket. I don't want to move. I don't want to think about what had happened. I hurt too much.
I pull my knees tighter to my chest, pressing my forehead against the knee caps. Tears are streaming down my face at a rate like never before. But I'm still silent.
It's getting hot and stuff under the blanket, and I force myself to take it off for a second to get some fresher air. I look around, see my door shut and register that there is no sound except for me.
I force myself up, keeping a tight hold around the blanket. I get dressed in something that's even larger than normal that covers my body way too well.
As I pull the shirt over my head, I glance at my bed. I flashback, seeing myself tied down, him over me.
"No!" I cry aloud, jerking myself out of that memory. I hear nothing else downstairs, thinking how Charlie's hopefully at work. I grab my bag, refusing to look anywhere but at the floor.
I walk down the stairs after checking my makeup and putting some on my arms, just in case. Then I walk out the front door. As I walk along, I can't help but think of how much I hurt. I don't want this to happen anymore. This is such crap. I don't want to deal with this anymore. But . . . what else can I do? Kill myself?
No.
I won't be like my mother. I won't take the guilty way out. I'm better than that. Oh, Mom, why'd you have to leave me? I need you!
As I walk along, I realize there is no Edward to pick me up today, and I'm fine with this. I don't want to get a ride with him.
I also think about how sore I am. In such . . . areas.
I wipe a few tears away with my hand and feel my eyes stinging.
When I finally get to the school, it's to have Alice jump on me with a tight hug. I want to cry out to run from her, she's hurting me so much, but I don't. That'd give away everything . . . And he'd hurt me something fierce. Well, more than usual.
"Hi, Bella!" she says, smiling brightly at me. Then she notices the tears. Her smile fades and she looks worried. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lie, wiping away the tears.
"You can't fool me that easily," she says, "I can tell something's wrong. Tell me, please."
"I don't wanna talk about it," I say truthfully. I really don't.
She gives me a sad look and then pulls something out of her jacket pocket. She puts a black and blue braided bracelet around my left wrist, and I notice a matching one around hers.
"I'm always here for you," she says. "Now, come on, time for school."
She takes my hand and leads me off.
"Oh, yeah, and how are you doing?" she asks.
"A lot better," I lie.
"Good," she replies. "I missed you. Hey, you wanna go shopping with me and Rosalie after school this Friday?"
"Um," I say. I kind of want to, but Charlie . . .
"It's okay if you still don't feel up to it," she says, shrugging. "I'll buy you something and then I'll do your makeup and stuff before school on Monday, okay?"
"Yeah," I mutter. I brushed my bangs out of the way as we walked.
"Hey, can I curl your hair sometime?" she asks.
"Okay," I mumble. I don't feel like talking anymore. She's getting so close, and I'm afraid she'll find out.
"Can you come over after school?" she asks.
"I'll ask," I say.
She nods and we part to go to our separate classes.
When I call Charlie at lunch from Edward's cell phone, he snaps at me and says he found out I wasn't at school on Friday, that I skipped.
Every new sentence brings a new stab of pain to my chest. I flinch with every insult brought to me. When he finishes, we hang up, and I slide down the wall, curling into a ball. I shut my eyes, hiding my face under my arms.
I sit there for a few minutes before the door to the little area I'm sulking in. I glance up to see Edward. He kneels down next to me.
"What's wrong?" he asks. I give another sob and bury my head back in my arms. "Hey, Bella, hey, it's okay."
H sits next to me and wraps his arms around me. I freeze up at his touch, not sure what to think. But he's . . . different. I don't know if I can trust him, but right now – I kind of don't care. I relax in his arms after a second, and he starts saying random words in my ear, trying to calm me down.
It works but only after lunch is technically over, and we're supposed to be in biology.
"Let's just skip," says Edward.
"No," I say, shaking my head, thinking of Charlie. "No."
"Oh," he says. "Well, it'll be suspicious if we both show up together so late."
"I guess we can just skip the class," I mumble.
We sit there, leaning against the wall and watching the clouds.
"It looks like a bat," I say, pointing with my left hand.
"What's that?" Edward asks, pulling my left arm over. He rolls the sleeve up and finds the word 'whore' written there. I'm just glad I hid the bruises. "Bella!"
I remain silent, debating if I should lie that I did it or just not say anything.
"Bella, this is stupid! What do you mean by doing this!" he shouts with anger.
I yank my arm back and curl in on myself again.
"Bella, what's wrong? What's going on? I just wanna help."
I look up and drop the sleeve over my wrist.
"Bella?"
"Just drop it, Edward," I sigh finally and stand up. I walk away, through the woods and towards nowhere in general.
But as I walk through the woods, I wonder if anyone would understand if I were to say something about Charlie.
That day is the hardest thing for me to deal with. And I usually don't think about it, so I don't know why I am now.
I let out a sigh, seeing my breath form in a white cloud. At least it's not raining.
"GODDAMMIT!" I scream as thunder cracks a few seconds later. Rain begins falling and I'm soon soaked. "Can this day get much worse?"
"Bella?" I hear someone say.
"What now?" I shout, turning around. "Oh."
Jacob's standing in front of me with a perplexed look on his face.
"Oh," I say again.
"Oh?" he responds, lifting an eyebrow. He walks over and hugs me. "How have you been?"
"Well, you called me on Saturday, so not much has happened," I lie. I lie way too much.
"Oh, yeah, right," he says. He releases me. "So why are you here? Don't you have school?"
"Uh, well-"
Jacob laughs. "I get it. C'mon let's go skip and have some fun. And anyway, we should get out of the rain, less you wanna get sick."
I nod and he leads me out of the woods, only after I trip over stumps, twigs, and the ground itself about thirteen times. I think that's the right number, anyways.
Jacob laughed a lot when I tripped and fell on my face, and it hurt. A lot. I'm falling on these bruises, all these cuts, and who knows what else, and he just laughs.
"Can you stop laughing at me?" I mumble as I stand up, brushing dirt and leaves from my jeans.
"Yeah, sorry," he says as we walk into his house. "Hey, Dad."
"Hey, Billy," I say, pulling my wet jacket off. Thank you dark, long-sleeved shirts for not being see-through and perfect for hiding under.
"Bella? Don't you have school?"
"Uh-"
"Student holiday," Jacob lies for me. Thank you!
We I get home later that day, it's to find Charlie there with a leather belt in his hand. He's glaring down at me, and I'm wondering what I did to piss him off this time.
"Hello, sir," I say.
"Get on your knees," he hisses.
"Yes, sir," I say and comply. I look up at him, praying I'm not about to die.
"Strip," he commands.
"What?" I ask, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and fear.
"You heard me," he says, giving me a swift kick in the stomach.
I wince slightly and hold my stomach with one hand, but I do comply, knowing it may or may not be better for me. And now I'm sitting there in just my underwear.
He smirks and squats down to stand in front of me. He reaches around and handcuffs my hands behind my back. He reaches one hand up after finishes and smacks me.
The blow was so hard that I fall over onto my stomach. He stands up and places a firm foot on my butt.
"Hey, James!" he calls.
James . . . James? I've heard the name before, but who is he? I glance up, shaking my hair away from my face to see a man with long blond hair, really pale skin and a gleam in his eyes I really don't like.
"All yours," says Charlie, handing him the whip and walking out of the house.
"You know, even with such an abused body, you are quiet pretty," he says, pulling me up. He presses his mouth to mine, and locking his arm around my waist so I can't move. "Now, be a good girl and I won't use this."
I hate my life.