A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed! Sorry for not posting this on Monday, but I had some computer problems. Any mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

"'Betcha on land, they understand, that they don't reprimand their daughters." – The Little Mermaid

Chapter 3

BPOV

August 2008

I wake up the next morning gasping for air as I come out of my nightmare. It's the same one I have every night. I'm in a house and I'm trapped inside a room. I keep trying to get out. I try to yell for help, but nothing comes out of my mouth. My breathing becomes labored as I inhale smoke and carbon monoxide. I start to choke and my vision gets all blurry. As soon as I feel like I'm about to die, I wake up. I've had this nightmare for as long as I remember. I don't know what it's about or what it means. All I know is that it still scares the shit out of me every morning as I wake up.

I glance at the clock in my room. It's 5:30 am. I roll out of bed and check my door to see if it Renee had locked it while I slept last night. Thankfully, she didn't. I wait and listen for Phil and Renee's movements in their bedroom before I head downstairs to the kitchen to make their coffee. I try to be extra careful as I pour the coffee into their thermoses as to not spill any. I check several times to make sure that their coffee isn't too hot or too cold. I don't want to chance being locked outside in the rain again by Phil. I guess I should be grateful. Phil hasn't been punishing me as much as normal, lately.

At the thought of punishments, I quietly run up the stairs to the bathroom and look at my face. What I see doesn't surprise me. The hand shaped mark on my right cheek still looks as angry as it did last night. I know I need to wait until Renee leaves to try and get some of her makeup to cover up the angry looking bruise.

I go back to my room and wait until I hear Phil and Renee leave for work. Not ten minutes later, I hear the front door shut twice. I take this as my chance to go to Phil and Renee's bedroom. I look around Renee's dresser and I see some cover up. As I'm about to put some on, I hear a voice from behind me. "Well, well, well, look what I have here." Renee's snarls out.

I look up at her and I know that there's no way I can get out of this. Instead of attempting to show Renee that I was trying cover up the bruise on my face, I merely hand the cover up over to Renee and get myself ready for what's about to happen.

"Were you trying to make yourself look as pretty as me?" She asked.

I don't look up. I know where this is headed.

"It wouldn't work, you know. You're the ugliest piece of shit on this planet. No amount of makeup is going to change that sweetheart." I looked up and nodded at her, knowing that is what she was wanted. "But, since you were trying to steal from me, I have no other choice other than to call Phil and let him discipline you."

I flinched. She noticed.

She grins evilly. "He's going to be pissed that you're making him late for work to come punish you."

I wait nervously as Renee calls Phil. It takes all of five minutes for Phil to turn his car around from wherever he's at and come home. I hear the front door open and slam shut. I hear him stomp up the stairs to the bedroom. I don't try to escape. I don't try to somehow explain my actions. I just look down and wait for my punishment, too scared to be face to face with Phil.

"You ungrateful little bitch! Is it not enough for me to provide a roof over your head and clothes on your back and food on the table? You have to steal from my wife?" Phil roared. "I am going to show you what happens to ungrateful little bitches who steal." I brace myself for the blow, but it doesn't come. I look up to find both Phil and Renee smirking at me. Phil roughly grabs my chin and says "Keep your eyes open, so you can learn not to ever steal from us again, you waste of space."

I do as he says and watch as Phil's fist connects to my mouth. I instantly feel blood fill the inside of my mouth. Phil's boot comes up and collides with my chest next. The force of the kick knocks me to the ground. I don't try to get up, I know Phil would think of it as an act of defiance, so I stay knocked down. His boot connects to my chest again and, this time, I can hear my ribs cracking. It knocks the breath out of me. Phil continues to kick my sides and my legs until he's had his fill of hurting me. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

"There, maybe now you'll think twice about stealing from us again." He kicks me one last time to the mouth and I start to feel the blood trickle down my face. "That's for making me late for work! Oh, and clean the blood off of the floor. I want this to be spotless by the time I get back home, bitch."

He and Renee walk out the bedroom door and I hear them laughing as they head down the stairs and out the front door. I just lay on the ground, motionless, until I know for certain that they are both gone. I try to get up, but my aching body tells me that's not a good idea. I lay there for a few more minutes until I get the will to try and stand up again.

I slowly bring myself to my feet, every move that I make causes to pain shoot throughout every part of my body. I walk to the bathroom to inspect the damage Phil did to my body. I look at my face and notice that my mouth still has blood coming from it. I open it to make sure I don't have any loose or missing teeth. Thankfully, I don't. I spit out the blood that had accumulated in there. Next, I lift up my shirt, wincing as I do so. I notice that the skin is already starting to bruise. I try to take in a deep breath and immediately regret doing so. I double over in pain because when I inhale, my chest and sides feel like tiny needles are jabbing at me. It takes me a few minutes for me to calm down enough to realize that taking short breaths doesn't hurt as bad.

I look back up at the mirror. There is absolutely no way that I can go to school like this. I probably already missed the bus, not to mention that I still have a hand shaped bruise on my cheek. With that mindset, I head to the kitchen to find some ice for my ribs. Going down the stairs was really difficult and I can't imagine what it's going to be like going back up them.

I find some ice in the freezer and wrap a rag around it so I don't freeze to death when I put it on my ribs. I think about heading up to my room, but think better of it when I see the stairs. I know better than to sit in Phil's big chair, so I settle for lying on the couch that no one ever uses.

As soon as lie down, my body groans in protest. The pins and needles are back with fury. My head feels like someone bashed it in with a crowbar. My chest feels like it's going to burst from all the sudden movement. My stomach growls and I know I have to eat something, consequences be damned. The only way I will be able to heal my bruised ribs and body, is to get the nutrients I don't normally get. So, I get back up, very slowly and carefully, and head back to the kitchen.

I try to remember what day of the week it is and I realize its Tuesday. Shit. Renee didn't let me eat last night because Phil didn't work as late as normal. She sure as hell is not going to let me eat tonight after the whole makeup fiasco. I groan as I realize that there is no way I can make myself something to eat without causing Renee or Phil to become suspicious. I finally settle for a glass of water and go back to the couch to lie down. I doze off quickly.

I wake later to the constant sound of raindrops hitting the roof. I try to get up off the couch and barely succeed in doing so. My entire body feels like I got ran over by a pick-up truck.

I go into the kitchen and notice that it's almost time for Renee to get home. Shit. I forget about my pain momentarily as I rush to get the cleaning supplies for Renee and Phil's bedroom. I quickly hurry up the stairs, luckily without tripping, to the bedroom and begin getting the blood off of the hardwood floor. It doesn't take me long. I get up off the floor and immediately feel the pain in my chest start again, ten times worse than it was before. I start coughing and coughing until I feel the urge to throw up. I walk to the toilet as fast as my body can take me and I double over and puke. Whatever food or drink I had in my body from Sunday night is now in the toilet, along with a little blood.

I gasp at the sight of my blood and regret it instantly. My chest is on fire. I can't breathe. I can't move suddenly. I can barely think straight because of all the pain that is shooting through my body. I flush the toilet, not wanting the aroma of my puke to stain the air.

I hear the front door open and I know that I have to get out of here before Renee sees me. I push the pain aside and run across the house to my room as silently as I can. I hear footsteps on the stairs and I fling myself on my bed. My entire torso groans in pain as I quickly shift so I'm laying down away from the door. I hear my bedroom door open. Renee comes close to my bed and grabs my shoulders. She shakes me violently and says, "Wake up you lazy bitch! Don't think I don't know that you've been laying around on your lazy ass all day! Now get up and do your chores before I get Phil to come home early to teach you another lesson!"

I merely nod and get to my feet as fast as I possibly can. I go downstairs to start dinner and to do the rest of my chores. I note that the amount of food in the refrigerator is getting low. I don't know how to tell Renee that we need more food for me to cook with, without her thinking that I'm saying that I am not going to cook. I sigh and put that thought out of my mind. I don't want to anger her any more than I have today already.

I hurry as fast as I can to get through with my chores. I really don't want to run into Phil again tonight. My entire body aches with bruises and cuts. I fix fish again for supper tonight. I am putting it on the table right as Phil's cruiser pulls up. I go up the stairs to my room as quickly as I can before Phil walks in. I go to my room and stay in there until I know that Phil and Renee have gone to bed for the night. Slowly, I walk to my door and try to turn the lock. Shit. Renee locked me in here tonight. This is probably her punishing me again for the makeup incident.

I go back to my bed and look at my school work. I do my homework easily and in no time at all. Despite, my awful peers, I have always enjoyed the learning aspect of school. I have always been naturally smart, not having to try hard to get good grades. I fall asleep while reading the chapters in biology that I know I missed today.

I wake up the next morning gasping for just like every other morning and go to my door to see if it is unlocked. It is and I slowly walk down the stairs. My body feels like I got hit by an 18 – wheeler. Every move I make feels like someone is taking a hammer to every bone in my body. There is no way I can go to school like this. I can barely walk the 10 feet down the stairs, let alone walk to all of my classes for the next eight hours.

I make Phil and Renee's coffee quickly and efficiently and hurry to the bathroom before they get a chance to spot me. I look at my reflection in the mirror. The bruise on my face is still too prominent not to be noticed. I lift up my shirt to expect my chest and ribs. The left side of my chest is a sickly blue and purple color. I know I definitely cracked something in there. The cut on my lip is nominal, but if someone looked hard enough, it is still visible.

I hear the front door slam shut and I know that I am alone. I turn on the shower and I find that for the first time in weeks, there is hot water for me to have a decent shower. I climb in and I let the burning water take over my senses. It soothes my bruises and I let the hot water consume. I stay in the shower until the water runs cold. I step out and wrap a small towel around myself. I step out of the bathroom and go to my room. I put on my only pair of sweatpants and a t – shirt. I don't put on a bra because I don't own one. Lucky for me, my breasts aren't very big, so I can easily get away without anyone noticing I am braless.

I do my chores early and fix supper for Phil and Renee. I wait up in my room until Renee gets home. She calls for me and I go downstairs. She is eating her supper when I get down there. "You better hurry up and eat before Phil gets home."

I hurry and grab a plate. I put tiny portions of food on my plate, making sure Phil has enough to eat. My stomach lurches when I eat my first bite of food in three days. I eat in a hurry, so desperate for any amount of food. I ignore the protest my chest gives me as I eat. I don't even taste the food as I chew and swallow it. When I finish, I clean my plate and then I clean Renee's plate. I wash the dishes and scurry to my room before Phil gets home.

Thursday and Friday go by the same way. I stay at home because I know my body is not ready to go back to school. My chest feels like it is on fire with every breath I take, and evidence of the bruise on my face still lurks. I know that if I don't show up by Monday, the school will call Phil or Renee to ask about my whereabouts. Bruise or no bruise, I have to go back. I will just have to ignore the pain.

In my free time when Phil and Renee are at work, I do all the reading I need for my classes so I don't get behind. I don't have any trouble understanding the material.

In a way, I am grateful to have a reason not to go back to that hellhole. I don't have to put up with Tanya or any of her fake friends. I don't have to put up with the constant taunting from my peers. I don't have to put up with my incompetent peers as I sit in class. I can stay home and learn by myself. But, in the end, I would rather put up with the constant bullying than to have pain shoot up my body with every move I make.

**TCWT**

On Monday morning, I roll out of bed knowing the inevitable has come. I walk out of my bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen to fix coffee. Even though I have never tasted coffee, my stomach still grumbles at the smell of it. My body craves so many more nutrients than I am getting. My body reacts so strongly to the smell of anything edible.

I head back upstairs to the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror. The bruise on my face is still visible, but it no longer resembles a hand print. I lift up my shirt and look at my ribs. They are an ugly yellow – green color and they stick out more prominently than normal. It still feels like pins and needles with every sudden movement I take. It still hurts like hell to breathe too.

I finally look away from the mirror, too disgusted from my appearance to see myself any longer than necessary. I brush my teeth in a hurry.

I go back to my room to get dressed in the same pair of jeans I wore last Monday and a ratty old t – shirt. I put on my only jacket, which is worn out well past using, and go downstairs. I walk out the door and go to sit on the edge of the driveway while I wait on the bus. Phil and Renee are already gone by the time I get there.

I only have to wait about five minutes before I hear the roar of the engine coming down the street. I get on and sit in the first open seat I find. I sit quietly, ignoring the conversations of the kids around me. The jostle of the bus makes every involuntary movement I make, ten times more painful. I start to find it harder and harder to breathe until I finally see the school come into view. I get off the bus as quickly as I can and then I head to my first class. I go straight back to my seat and sit with my head down.

I don't look up when I hear the other students come in. I don't even look up when I hear Mrs. Wilson start talking. I don't want anyone to see my face and give me hell for it. I hear the door open and shut in the middle of the lecture. It's not until I hear the chair scraping across the floor that I register that someone was sitting next to me.

"Bella." It was Edward. I looked up immediately when I recognized the voice. I had completely forgot about him. As soon as I see his face scrunch up in confusion, I realize my mistake. I look down instantly. He saw the bruise. Damn, is he going to make fun of me now? When he calls my name again, I realize I couldn't be more wrong.

"Shit Bella. What happened? Are you okay?" He lifts my chin up so I have to look at him. I try to avoid his eyes, but he is pretty persistent.

"Bella, look at me." I slowly look up at his eyes. "Will you tell me what happened for you to get that bruise on your cheek?" I shake my head no. He sighs and lets go of my chin.

He gets out a sheet of paper and writes on it. Does it hurt?

No. I write back. He doesn't get the chance to respond because Mrs. Wilson calls on him to answer a question.

"Mr. Cullen, would you care to answer the question?" She asked.

"Uh, can you repeat it?"

"I asked, how many chromosomes do humans have in their body cells?"

The look on his face was one of horror. He didn't know the answer. I quickly grab the paper we were writing on and wrote 46. He looked down and his face visibly relaxes.

He looked back up at Mrs. Wilson and said "There are 46 chromosomes in each cell." She looked pleased with his answer.

"Very good Mr. Cullen, but in the future, please keep your eyes on the board." She retorted.

He sighed in relief. He grabbed the paper and wrote Thanks, I owe you on it and slid it back over to me.

I didn't get a chance to respond because the bell rang. We wordlessly walked to our next class side by side.

**TCWT**

Edward and his friends, Seth and Jacob, sat with me again at lunch. They talked about football while I just sat there. Edward, thankfully, didn't mention my bruise and neither did Jacob and Seth. At some point during lunch, Edward slid his lunch box over to me and said, "Are you hungry?" I shook my head, but my stomach betrayed me by growling at the mention of food. He laughed and pulled out a sandwich.

"Here, eat this. My mom always packs me too much food for me to eat by myself." I look up at him warily. I really want the food, but I don't want him to know how hungry I really am.

"Just take it. Seriously, it's not a big deal." He smiles when I carefully take the sandwich.

Why was he being so nice to me? I haven't done anything to him and I can't help but wonder if he is somehow going to make me make up for it later. I don't linger on that thought for long because I don't want to believe it.

I look at the sandwich and finally decide to take a bite out of it. Holy shit was this good. It felt like heaven in my mouth. I tried to eat slowly, but it tasted too good and I was so hungry. I gobbled down the entire sandwich in a matter of a few minutes.

I looked up to find Edward looking at me with a confused look on his face. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he wanted to.

Lunch ended and we all headed our separate ways to our classes. No one said anything about the bruise on my face. Tanya didn't so much as even look at me in any of the classes we shared. I guess Edward's little speech really made an impact on her.

**TCWT**

The rest of the week goes by the same as normal, except, Edward started to give me half of his lunch every day. He claimed it was because his mom always packed him too much food, but I knew better. I knew that he knew that something was up.

On Friday in biology, Edward and I were passing notes like we usually do when he writes: Are you coming to the game tonight?

No. I write back.

Why not? It's the first game of the season and I really wanted you to come.

Why would you want me to come? I'm not important. I write begrudgingly.

Don't say shit like that Bella. You're my friend and I want you to be there.

I look up at him. He thought of me as a friend? What could I possibly have to offer as a friend to this perfect boy?

We're friends? I write.

He looked at me with a confused expression on his face. Well, yeah I thought we were. I mean I want us to be. If that's okay with you. He looked up and I saw a boyish grin on his face.

Yeah, I'd like to be friends. I smiled as I wrote it.

He grinned and wrote back: So, you'll be at the game tonight?

No. I can't go. I'm sorry. My smile faded.

He looked disappointed.

Are we still friends though? I write, preparing myself for disappointment.

Of course, Bella. He wrote as the bell rang.

We walk to math together and take our separate ways once inside the classroom.

I start counting down the minutes until lunch when I know I'll be with him again. I've noticed that by doing this, school seems to go by quicker and it is easier to ignore those that taunt me.

Lunch comes and goes as usual. Edward practically begs me to help him eat his lunch even though we both know he could do it easily himself.

Over the past few days, I have noticed that my stomach isn't as flat anymore. I am, by no means, at a healthy weight, but I can notice that I look a little bit less like an anorexic.

Edward doesn't bring up the bruise on my face again. He also doesn't comment on how fast I eat my portion of his lunch. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that a boy like Edward would be wasting his time on a pitiful excuse of a human being like me. He must really feel sorry for me and laugh about me behind my back or, dare I say, he might actually give a shit about me. I hope it's the latter of the two because I don't know what I would do if my only friend I ever had, turns out to be as fake as everyone else.

**TCWT**

The weekend scares me. Phil is off of work for the entire weekend which almost never happens. The thought of me having to be around him for nearly 48 hours without reprieve, frightens me and for good reason too. I remember one time when I was about eleven years old, Phil was drunk and watching a baseball game. When the game was over, he was pissed that his team lost, so Phil took his anger out on me. I was in my room at the time, doing schoolwork. Phil busted through my door and dragged me out of my room. He was really drunk and I couldn't understand anything he was saying. I didn't know what I did to anger him so much, but it seems Phil doesn't need a reason to hurt me. He didn't hit me or yell at me until we got to the edge of the stairs. He kept mumbling something about how everything that goes wrong in his life is because of me. I was terrified. I had never seen him so drunk before. At the top of the stairs, Phil gripped my forearms tightly and he turned me to face him.

"This is all your fault, bitch." He screamed. He then threw me down the stairs. I tumbled down the stairs just like a ball would. I hit the floor hard. My head slammed against the hardwood floor and I immediately blacked out.

I woke up in the hospital sometime later with a concussion, a broken leg, and many new bruises to add to my collection. Phil told the doctors that I was riding my bike and fell off and hit the ground. Problem was, I didn't own a bike. Questions arose and to get everyone off his back, Phil threw himself into his work. He told the doctor that I wouldn't be able to say what happened because I can't talk. That's the closest anyone has ever come to figuring out the truth.

Phil has had a only few weekends off since then, but he has never done enough damage for me to go to the hospital. So, Phil being off this weekend terrifies me.

I do my chores and try to stay out of his way the entire weekend, which, thankfully, works. The bruise on my face is almost completely gone now, but my breathing is still a little labored. Not eating at night doesn't hurt my body as much now because Edward gives me some of his lunch every day at school.

I keep counting down the minutes until I am sitting in class Monday morning with Edward. It is the only thing that is keeping me going nowadays. It's funny how his small acts of kindness have nearly turned my life around. It is the only thing I have to look forward to.

A/N: Thoughts? Leave me a review!