Chapter 1: Introduction to a Broken Life

"Masen. I was born a Masen and raised a Masen. It was my surname, my 'treasure' and duty as the only child, only male, to pass it on. And yet my name was a curse bestowed upon me from the one I hated most: my father."

~Edward Masen, Jr.

When my mother died when I was eight, my father became a drunk. It was at this age that my life became a horrid, tangled mess of pain and emptiness. I could predict each day of my life: I would wake up, go to school, come home, get beaten, make dinner, get beaten, and go to bed. I would hear my father sneak out not long after I would go to bed and not return until the early hours of the morning. As soon as he arrived, I would cringe under my dirty, bloodied sheets and pray that I would, for once avoid the inevitable. It was a rare and joyous occasion when I would. My father would stomp up the steps and into my bedroom, ripping me from the warmth of my disgusting bed and take out his anger of life on me. Often times, while he was doing this, he'd curse me, telling me he hated me for killing my mother. Though my father hit me everywhere, he liked to target my face. He always said that I didn't deserve to look like her. He would mangle my face beyond recognition, beat me, hit me until I was black and blue, until I spit out blood, until I could no longer see due to the swelling of my cheeks. When he was finally satisfied, he collapsed in his bedroom, leaving me sobbing in a puddle of my own blood.

For two years, I begged for forgiveness. Longed for the love he used to show me. I would plead; cry as he hit me, telling him I loved him, that I didn't mean to kill her, that I was sorry. These pathetic attempts at apologies only resulted in more brutal beatings. I wasn't worthy of forgiveness, love, or relief. I was only worthy of pain, hate, and hardships.

It was when I was ten that I finally gave up, surrendering into the dark, painful recesses of my brain, the part that showed me endless memories of her, my mother. I honestly didn't mean to kill her. But, of course, her death was on my own hands. I begged her to take me to the park, forced her to drive the long way home in an attempt to scoundrel ice cream from her. I didn't call for help after she crashed into the tree. I lay in the backseat of the car, crumbled into a ball and splashed with both her blood and my own. I merely stared wide-eyed and frozen at my mother who screamed at me to get out of the car and run. After much yelling, I finally snapped out of my shock induced trance and obeyed my mother's orders. I ran, ran as fast as I could, until the black car and the smell of fire and smoke disappeared behind me.

I ended up collapsing a few miles from the place of the accident. How I managed to make it so far, I'll never know, but I did.

"Hey!" Someone shook me awake. I opened my eyes to meet those of a female stranger. "Are you okay, sweetie? What happened?"

My forehead creased and something wet dripped down into my eyes. I wiped at it unthinkingly and was met with an unbearable pain. I began crying instantly; the pain, mixed with confusion and fear became too much for my eight year old mind. I broke down in front of that kind stranger, sobbing loudly, for I knew no better.

"Hey, it's okay. Just…just tell me what happened," she pleaded, her eyes alert with worry. The poor girl couldn't have been older than 20.

"Momma!" I sobbed over and over, my frantic eyes searching the area for her, but coming up short.

"Where is she?" The woman beseeched me now, but I was too young to comprehend what was going on.

"I want my mommy!" I was begging, pleading with the woman.

She sighed, "I don't know where she is, honey."

This only made me cry harder. The woman called the police, and apparently, they had already found my mother, dead and charred on the side of a random road. Of course, I didn't find this out until much later. My father was the one to tell me.

Naturally, I didn't quite understand. I knew she was gone, and this made me heartbroken. But, what was death? And…why couldn't she come back? Didn't she love us anymore?

3rd grade started up. By now my father had already become fully dependent on alcohol. And, therefore was beating me regularly.

"Put these on! Now!" My father shoved me a baseball hat and some sunglasses. He said I was ugly and needed to hide my face. I believed him, of course.

I put the items on quickly and turned to him for a question. "Where do I go?" I spoke quietly, knowing speaking too loudly would result in pain.

"Are you stupid!? You go in the classroom!"

"But…" My eyes filled with tears. Fear. Confusion. Fear. Relief when he didn't hit me immediately, "Which one?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know!? Now get your ass in there before I smack you!"

I heeded his warning.

The hat was too large for me and it slipped down in front of my eyes. That coupled with my sunglasses that were entirely too big for my face made seeing virtually impossible.

Eventually, I did find the correct classroom; though I was late.

I limped into the classroom, trying to avoid putting any pressure on my left leg.

There, I was met with an agitated sigh and a few quite whispers. Even though I could make out none of them, I knew they were about me.

"What's your name?" I looked up and met the cold, hard eyes of my new teacher. She was elderly looking, with thick eye glasses and a puff of awful gray hair that was tied back into a frizzy bun.

I swallowed loudly. My mouth had gone dry. Ever since my dad started hitting me, grown-ups just didn't feel safe anymore. "Edward Masen." I choked out.

She scribbled something on a notebook before turning back to me. "You are late. When you're late you need a tardy pass. Don't you ever come in late without a tardy pass again. Understood?"

I nodded vigorously.

"And," Her eyes flashed, "Don't ever, ever wear sunglasses and a hat to my classroom again. Am I clear?"

I nodded again.

"I asked you a question and therefore I want an answer."

"Yes ma'am." I whispered. Snickers came from my left and my face turned pink under the black and blue discoloration.

"Remove them at once." She pointed at my face. After a split second of hesitation, I pulled both the glasses and cap away from my face and placed them into her waiting hands, ashamed.

"Goodness, gracious, boy! What on earth happened to your face? Were you out fighting?"

My mom told me it was bad to lie, but my dad said I couldn't tell anyone what happened. Ever. Because I couldn't stand the idea of facing my father's wrath and consequently pain, I nodded once again.

"There shall be none of that in my classroom, either. Sit." I followed her finger to a seat in the very back, nestled in between two walls. Placing my bottom on the seat carefully, I winced as I swung my legs around. The seat pressed on my bruises.

Mrs. McKay, I learned her name was, then started the class. Unfortunately, I knew everything she was teaching and now had nothing to distract myself with.

At the end of the day, she gave us something called homework for the first time ever. Mrs. McKay so eloquently worded the definition as "work that you take home."

All the other children's parents were waiting for them when school dismissed at three o'clock. Not my father. The busses didn't run to my house because I lived outside of town and too far away, and the teacher said I was too young to walk. I had to wait.

At five in the evening my father still hadn't shown up and I began to worry, as did the poor teacher waiting with me.

"Mr. Masen, sir, Edward is still at school." I looked up at the teacher through the sunglasses Mrs. MacKay so kindly gave back to me. "Well, sir he can't just stay here all night….Sir, I'm sorry, but he is much too young to be walking home. Yes, I realize that, but - hello? Sir? Mr. Masen! Hello!?" She sighed clicking her cell phone off.

Ten minutes later my father's car pulled into the parking lot. A large wave of relief spread through me at the sight of it, but it faded very quickly, turning into a drowning fear.

He stormed over to where the blonde teacher and I were standing. Grabbing and yanking my wrist firmly, he turned to her in a rage.

"Don't you dare tell me how to raise my son!"

"Sir, I wasn't trying -" Her eyes were wide.

Dad cut her off. "I know what you were trying to do! Come on, Edward." He snarled dragging me and my throbbing ankle to his car. Once we were in, my father revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot abruptly making the tires squeals. I wanted to scream right along with them….

He turned to me once we were speeding away. "Don't ever make me look like a fool ever again!"

I nodded hysterically, tears welling up in my eyes.

We were home shortly and his fist connected with my face as soon as we were safely inside. Over and over he pummeled me on the kitchen floor. I couldn't move when he was finished. My body felt like a 300 ton weight had been dropped on it.

"Get up." He commanded. I tried but all I accomplished was arching my back, twitching my fingers and toes, and whimpering. My eyes were hooded in exhaustion as tears ran from them soundlessly. I breathed through my parted and bloody lips. And I was bloody. Very much so. It seemed like my very soul was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, killing me internally, if not physically….

When I was ten, my father began whipping me with a belt.

When I was eleven, my father hit me in the face with a metal baseball bat. It split my lip open and I had seven stitches along my bottom lip. No one asked me what happened…no one cared.

At 12, my hair was almost touching my top lip. I let it hang in my hang face. The strands provided welcomed coverage, but it was too long, and my father started calling me a girl. Before this age, he had cut it with scissors - never higher than my cheekbones but this year, my father declared that he was sick of always having to take care of me of me. If I want it cut, I had to do it myself. And I did.

In September of my fourteenth year, I met Jasper. He and his sister had just moved here from Texas. They were twins, he and Rosalie. The girl hated me like everyone else on this God-forsaken planet. But Jasper…he actually became my first and only friend. However, Jasper was a bit of a punk, so to speak, and a large influence on me.

He and I became fast friends, and eventually, I began to trust him….

"Edward!" Jasper ran up to me, smiling widely. I glanced up at him from the book I was reading as he sat down in front of me. His forehead creased as he took in the empty table in front of me. "You aren't eating today?"

I shook my head, not responding verbally. I felt beyond sick today.

He sighed. "Okay." He paused for a minute before deciding to change the subject. "So I met a girl…"

At this my head lifted to meet his eyes. He was smiling widely and looked sincerely happy.

"What's her name?" I was barely interested, only playing along for his benefit.

"Alice Brandon."

"Doesn't sound familiar." I muttered, still reading my very boring book.

"She's new here. She's really nice, Edward. Really pretty…I think even you would like her."

Even me….nice, Jasper. It sounds like he was making me out to be some sort of complete socially impaired idiot. My eyes narrowed as I read on, "That's great."

He sighed loudly. "Can you at least pretend to be interested?"

I shut my book. "I feel like I'm going to puke all over the freaking table and you want me to pretend to be interested in some girl you just met? Jesus, Jasper. I don't feel well. Please, just leave me alone."

"Fine." He stood up dramatically, like a girl, and stormed off. I sighed, instantly feeling guilty. He always took all of my shit. Why couldn't I just be nice back?

I took a deep breath staring at the faded black door. My hand shook as I reached out to open it. Just do it! He's not even home! I told myself. Finally, I managed to push it open and step inside quietly. The house was silent. I breathed a sigh of relief and walked into the kitchen. I sat down at the kitchen table and attempted to do my homework over the horrible pain in my stomach. I looked down, lifting my shirt up to my chest and peering down at the large black and purple bruise that was the perfect shape of a boot. I touched it delicately and it throbbed under the slightest pressure. I breathed out a shaking breath before dropping my shirt and continued my homework.

The front door banged open about three hours later. My father stormed over to me, standing in front of the table, fuming. I looked up at him, flinching softly.

"We're going to dinner."

My forehead creased in confusion, though I didn't dare ask… "Okay." I waited for further instruction.

"Go get changed, and try to cover your face with something. You have bruises all over it."

I wonder whose fault that is…I thought grimly. I trudged up the steps to my bedroom and stripped as quickly as I was able. My father didn't like to be kept waiting.

I dressed in a black button down shirt and loose dark jeans and quickly tried to cover the bruises with my hair. Good enough.

I trotted down the steps, and found my father waiting impatiently for me.

"What took you so long?" He smacked the back of my head as I exited the house and I flinched, quickening my pace to the car.

The ride to where ever it was we were going was a long one. It was closer into town than our house and also in the richer section of Forks. When we pulled up into the drive way of a large white, Victorian house, I sunk further into my seat.

"Come on!" My father grumbled, moving to get out of the car. I did the same.

"Whose house is this?" I whispered quietly to my father, hoping my question wouldn't cause him to lash out at me.

"Doctor Carlisle and Esme Cullen's."

I nodded, not knowing who on earth they were.

My father turned to look at me, stopping his stride to the door. "I swear to God, Edward, don't you dare do anything to embarrass me."

Once again, I nodded, this time with more fervor. My father turned and walked up the freshly painted steps and to the door, knocking three times. A few moments later the door opened and a kind woman in her mid thirties opened the door. Her face held a warm, smile free of wrinkles. Her hair was shoulder length and caramel colored, her eyes matching her hair. When she spoke her voice was soft and kind and all around warm. "Hello, Mr. Masen, it's so nice to finally meet you. My husband has told me a lot about you." The woman, who I assumed to be Esme Cullen, held out her hand.

I watched as my father transformed into something alien. He smiled warmly at the kind stranger, taking her hand…gently, and responded with a soft, genteel voice, "All good things I hope."

The woman laughed heartily, "Of course." With this she turned to look at me, "And you must be the second Edward Masen. What a pleasure to meet you. I'm Esme Cullen."

I shook her hand, feeling uncomfortable with the attention. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen," I muttered, shyly, blushing and looking at her from under my hair that covered the majority of my face.

"Oh, please, dear, call me Esme." Esme's face lit up in a sweet smile. I hesitated at this, looking to my father for an answer. He gave a tight nod.

"Esme." My responding smile was tight and forced. She didn't seem to notice.

"Please come in, the both of you, and make yourselves at home. Dinner will be ready at any moment."

My father and I followed her into the living room quietly. She told us that we should sit and be comfortable and that her husband would be downstairs momentarily. My father nodded and smiled at her. He then proceeded to sit on the white sofa looking actually happy for the first time in years.

I sat down as well as far away from him as possible. The silence was uncomfortable and full of tension so I looked around the room, taking it in. It was large and roomy. The walls were white and the crown molding on the walls was white as well. The windows were stained in a dark wood giving a nice contrast to the rest of the room. In front of the couch my father and I were seated at, was a grand fire place and above that was a large plasma screen television. Next to the sofa was a loveseat in the same style and material and on the other side of the sofa was an arm chair that also matched with the others. The floor was a pristine white carpet that morphed into a grayish colored tile surrounding the fire place. The ceiling was high and white as well, and the rest of the room was covered in various different pieces of art and vases that added color and brightness into the room. Regardless of the beauty and magnificence of the space, the one thing that held my attention most was the baby grand piano sitting on a raised platform facing the large picture windows. It was beautiful and just begging to be played. The wood surrounding the instrument was black and shiny. It looked brand-new; as if it had never been used before. Secretly, I had learned to play the piano at school. I taught myself and would play every chance I could get to sneak off to the band room and further refine my skill at the instrument. My father couldn't ever know about my passion for it, or I feared that he would break my fingers to torture me and hinder me from playing.

"Do you play?"

I jumped slightly at the startling voice and looked to see a blonde man who appeared to be around thirty five descending the stair case. His large blue eyes and wide smile was warm and inviting.

I ducked my head realizing he was talking to me, "No. I always wanted to learn but never did." I lied.

"Ah. Same here, actually. My father left it to me after he died. I never did get a chance to play it."

I nodded, forcing myself to smile at the man. He walked over to the love seat and sat down. "It's nice to see you again, Edward."

I looked up confused, but then realized that this time he was talking to my father.

"The same to you, Carlisle. How's the hospital staff treating you so far?"

"Very well, thank you. The people here are very kind. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of animosity towards me. It must be a small town perk." Dr. Cullen ran his fingers through his hair, smiling once again at my father.

"Yes, the people here are very caring. I'm assuming you've met Charlie Swan, considering you've invited him to dinner as well."

"Yes, he's kind as well."

I grimaced at this, not agreeing. Chief Swan always hated me for some reason. Maybe it was because he was my father's best friend and therefore my father's despise for me rubbed off on him. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that whenever I got in trouble, it was always Chief Swan that busted me.

"His daughter has just moved to town as well. Isabella, I think her name was. He can't seem to stop talking about her. Apparently, she doesn't like her new step father and decided to come live with her dad up here." My father commented.

"Yes, he mentioned that. I told him to bring her if she arrives in time for the dinner."

"Didn't you say that Thomas Hale and his family were coming as well?"

"Oh, yes, actually. Rebecca Hale is a nurse at the hospital."

I tuned out at this point, glad that Jasper would be there.

It wasn't long before the door bell rang, signaling the arrival of the other guests. Dr. Cullen jumped from his seat and quickly opened the front door. Laughter rang from behind my father and I as the new visitors and Carlisle entered into the living room. I quickly recognized Mr. and Mrs. Hale and then Jasper as they walked towards us. Jasper had his arm wrapped around a small girl with dark hair. Her wide blue eyes looked up at the doctor in earnest attention. Carlisle smiled down at her, asking her name.

"Alice Brandon, sir. It's nice to meet you." Her voice was high, almost like bells. Jasper dragged her over to me before Dr. Cullen could ask her anything else.

"Edward," Jasper smiled at me proudly, "This is Alice."

I smirked, "So I heard." I stood quickly offering my hand to her. "Jasper hasn't stopped talking about you since you arrived. It's nice to finally meet you."

Jasper kicked me in the leg discreetly. I glared at him, subconsciously rubbing it with my foot.

"So I see you've already met Jasper Hale, Edward. Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

I looked down, swallowing loudly at the sound of my father's voice. I was quickly sucked from the calm my friend gave and turned to face him stoically. "My friends at school never came up in conversation before, sir. I didn't think to mention it."

His eyes tightened slightly, informing me that this would be a conversation we would have later. He nodded, looking towards Mrs. Hale and asking her a question.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Dr. Cullen was staring at me with a confused expression. I looked at him for a moment before looking away, uncomfortable. Had he noticed something? I hoped fervently that he hadn't.

The door rang once again, making him break his stare away from me, to answer it.

When I turned back to look at my friends, Jasper was glaring at my father and Alice was staring at the both of us with an alarmed expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jasper nudged her and whispered in her ear, "Not here."

I blushed and looked down, "Not ever, please?"

Jasper sighed quietly, "You can trust, Alice."

My eyes narrowed at him. "I don't know Alice." My gaze flickered to her looking her up and down as if she were a threat. She flinched back under my gaze and Jasper, grabbed my shoulder.

"But I do. And you need help." He whispered this under his breath.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head fiercely. "Leave it, Jaz."

"Edward -"

"Dinner is served." Esme Cullen stood shyly in the doorway to what I presumed to be the dining room. Everyone smiled brightly and headed off to eat with the exception of Jasper, Alice, and myself.

"We'll talk about this later." Jasper's face was set in determination.

I looked away and followed the others.

"The children can sit together," Esme said, pointing to a few seats around the huge table. I took a seat as far away from where my father was standing as possible. Jasper sat next to my right, with Alice on his left, and a girl with brown hair and big brown eyes blushed and moved to sit next to me. I looked at her, transfixed with her momentarily, struck with an odd and very sudden case of attraction. She was very pretty, and small. She seemed clumsy in the way she walked towards her seat. Her long hair wrapped around her face like a dark veil as she sat silently, staring at her empty plate. Sensing my gaze, she looked up at me, blushing when she caught me staring.

"Hi." I said, smiling slightly at her. She seemed almost as shy as me.

A wide smiled broke across her face, "Hi."

"I'm Edward Masen, you must be Isabella Swan, the chief's daughter, right?"

She blushed again, "It's Bella. And yes."

"Nice to meet you. What grade are in?"

"8th," She blushed.

"Me too," I said, smiling happily.

Jasper nudged me in the arm. I turned to look at him. "Stop flirting with the new girl."

I glared at him, "I'm not flirting."

"Sure you aren't. But the chief seems to think otherwise." His gaze flickered to Charlie.

I turned to look at Chief Swan, flinching softly as I met his glare. Turning back to Jasper, I shrugged, "He already hates me. It can't get much worse."

Jasper chuckled before turning away to face Alice. Dinner was served a few minutes later.

Esme Cullen had made an enormous dinner. My mouth watered just looking at all the food. I dug in quickly, not even caring enough to look at what I was eating. Leaning over my plate, I stuffed my mouth full of food, my eyes practically rolling into the back of my skull as the different flavors flooded my tongue. Abruptly, a hard kick to my shin broke me from my trance. I looked up, taking in everyone talking happily…everyone except my father.

My eyes widened as I noticed him glaring furiously. "Stop stuffing your face like a pig."

I looked down, pushing my plate forward slightly. Sensing eyes on myself, I turned to find Bella looking confusedly at me. I shrugged and smiled tightly. Her returned smile was forced like mine. She knew something was wrong.

Dinner ended a few hours later. Bella, Jasper, Alice, and I became fast friends. We talked aimlessly as the night progressed, laughing and chatting about random nothings. I found Alice to be a sweet girl, full of energy. She practically bounced with excitement whenever she found something interesting to talk about. Alice began talking of Rosalie, Jasper's sister and how nice she was. At this, I smiled and pretended to agree. Jasper just glared at the table.

"Where is she tonight, Jaz?" I asked suddenly, realizing that she probably should have come.

He shrugged, "I don't know. She said something about hanging out with her boyfriend, that Royce kid that lives down the street from us. I don't like him much. Anyway, if Rosalie came, I couldn't have brought Alice so it worked out pretty nice in my opinion."

I rolled my eyes, smiling at Alice genuinely. Bella blushed lightly beside me asking quietly who Rosalie and Royce were.

Jasper jumped into action, filling Bella in on all the terrible things she did to Jasper when they were children. Bella laughed and giggled through the whole thing and I found myself to be oddly jealous of the attention Jasper was getting from her. That was one of the few things that bothered me about my best friend. Everyone liked him. Everyone hated me.

"And…who's Royce?" Bella asked quietly. I gathered that she was extremely shy but had a great sense of humor once cracked through her shell. She was so sweet and caring, always concerned whenever a story of an injury or an illness came up in conversation.

Jasper sighed, breaking me from my muses. "Royce King is eighteen and going off to college next year to study law. I guess he wants to be a lawyer or something."

"I hate lawyers." I muttered quietly. Jasper smiled regretfully, and patted my shoulder before continuing.

"Anyway, Royce lives down the street from us and found my sister attractive or something. Now they're dating."

"Wait. How old is Rosalie?"

Jasper chuckled, "She's my age. So, fourteen."

"That's illegal." Bella looked horrified. "What did your parents say?"

"They don't know." Jasper shrugged, "There's nothing that I can do when it comes to Rosalie. She does whatever she wants."

It was silent for a moment, the tension of the previous conversation still lingering. Bella broke it, but only to make it worse, unknowingly.

"So what made you want to pierce your lip?"

My eyes widened and I looked down at my still full dinner plate. Touching my lip quietly, I was sucked back into the time it happened. My memory surrounded me as if it were really happening all over again.

"Edward!" My father screamed. He sounded furious and I curled into a ball tighter, trying to force myself deeper into the corner of my room.

My door banged open and in walked my highly intoxicated father. His eyes were wide with fury and his lips curled with hate. My finger nails dug into the flesh of my knees, breaking the skin through the jeans and oozing blood. I gasped quietly, releasing my grip.

Footsteps stalked toward me and I cringed, curling tighter into the small space where the walls met. Tears built up in the ducts of my eyes in fear and in anticipation of the pain I was sure to be in.

Metal slammed against the floor. My eyes, unconsciously snapped down to the bat my father was holding, unbeknownst to me before that instant. Shock crossed me and fear coursed through my veins. I shook violently; unsure of whether or not this would be my last breath. My dad had never used weapons on me, aside from the belt, but none that would inflict fatal damage. I sobbed quietly, praying to see my mother when I died tonight.

"Shut up!" He roared, grabbing a fist full of my chin-length hair. Throwing me to the floor face first, he swung the bat into my lower back. I dropped back to floor - my efforts of getting to my knees wasted. "Get up!" His voice was a command and I had no choice but to follow his instruction. I stood, half bent over, the pain in my back flaring as I moved.

"I hate you, Edward. I hope you know that. I hope you know it was your fault she's dead. I'll make you pay for the rest of your worthless life and it still will never be enough!" Without giving me a chance to react, he swung the bat, just as I turned my face and it hit me square in the mouth. I tumbled back, my head crashing to the floor as pools and pools of blood poured into my mouth like a faucet, I coughed and sputtered, spitting it onto the floor, trying to breathe. He kicked me in the stomach. "Clean that up!"

I watched as he walked from the room, the bat clicking across the ground as he used it as a walking stick and disappeared from sight.

I clutched at my lip, checking for the damage. At first I thought I had lost a tooth, but upon further inspection I realized that my teeth were still in order, none missing. The blood was coming from my lip. My stomach churned as endless amounts of my life's liquid poured onto the floor of my bedroom. My hands shook as I pushed myself to stand and wobbled into the bathroom. What I saw in the mirror made me gasp. Blood streamed down my face, down my chest, dripping to the floor. My eyes filled with tears as I grabbed tissues and tried to stop the bleeding, to no avail. I realized that I would need stitches - the cut was nearly down to my teeth - and I had no way of getting them except…by asking my father. I shuddered.

Creeping down the hall, I stared at my father's bedroom door. The slight crack in the door let light peer onto the space in front of me. Clutching my lips silently, I knocked on the door, my eyes filling with tears.

The door whooshed open and my father stood in the doorway….

"Edward?"

My eyes snapped to my left and I was met with a pair of large brown ones. My face felt oddly cold and it took me a second to realize the blood had drained from my head.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, quietly. It was then that I began to feel the chilling prickle of numerous eyes on me. Glancing about myself, I saw everyone around the table staring at me with various different expressions. Bella and Alice stared at me with contemplation and confusion, Dr. Cullen with horrified concern, Chief Swan and Mr. and Mrs. Hale with plain annoyance, Mrs. Cullen with kind interest, Jasper with pity, and my father with warning.

I flushed under the shade of my hair, looking down at my full plate, and muttered, "I, uh…I got hit in the face with a baseball bat." I saw my father's hands clench. Dr. Cullen's eyes flickered downwards at my father, noticing the movement as well and his eyes tightened noticeably.

"How did that happen?" Dr. Cullen's voice was tight.

"In baseball," I whispered. "I never played after that." Esme smiled warmly at me at that comment. "So…I had to get seven stitches across my lip. After that, I just got sick of seeing it. So, I pierced it."

Carlisle's eyes narrowed further, "How did your father feel about that?"

"He…he was mad, but he got over it I guess." I looked down, feeling the blood leave my face again.

I was 14. My eyes stared back at me angrily as I stared into the bathroom mirror holding a needle to my lower lip. In my hand was a tiny silver lip ring that Jasper had given me the night before. In front of me on the counter was a bottle of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol; Jasper had told me to pour it on the wound at least twice a day to make sure it didn't get infected. He wished me the best of luck.

But I was angry. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to shove the needle through my own skin. "Just do it!" I yelled at myself. Closing my eyes, I yanked my lip downward and jammed the little piece of metal through my flesh. I clenched my teeth waiting for the pain to subside. Eventually, I looked at the needle, sticking through my lip and I smiled victoriously, quickly slipping the ring through the newly made hole.

What I hadn't considered was my father's reaction. He arrived home an hour or so later. I was sitting quietly at the kitchen table doing my homework. My father slammed his hands down roughly on the table making my pen slip across the page.

"What the hell is that!?" My father demanded, gripping my hair and yanking my face back.

"What?" I whispered, forgetting about my freshly pierced lip.

"Don't act dumb with me, Edward!" He yelled, grabbing the metal and pulling on it roughly, "This!"

I flinched; afraid he was going to rip it out. "I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd care!"

His eyes narrowed, "I don't want you walking around looking like a fucking punk and tainting my name!"

I stared up at him, waiting for him to just hit me and get it over with.

He grabbed my hair, flinging me to the ground before stomping hard on my stomach.

I grunted, gasping in the air that had been knocked out of me.

"Whatever," he muttered, walking away, "It's not like everyone in this fucking town doesn't know how much of a prick you really are."

We left not too long after. Bella and I exchanged phone numbers - which I was more than happy about - and Jasper promised to call me in the morning being that it was a Saturday.

My father was silent the entire way home and it was making me uneasy. When we pulled into the parking lot, my father turned to me with unreadable expression, "So it seems we have much to talk about."

I felt my eyes widen on their own accord before I exited the car and made my way to the door. We made our way inside and I stood in the middle of the kitchen staring nervously at him, waiting for what was to come.

"That was close tonight. Too close. In fact I'm pretty sure that Carlisle figured something out in his head." My dad's voice was eerily calm as he spoke and I shuddered. "Do you have any idea of what I would do to you if any one were to ever find out?"

I didn't respond, only stared at him in horror.

"I would rip you limb from fucking limb, and I'd do it while you're still alive so you could watch as you became dismembered."

I swallowed, my eyes squeezing shut as I tried not to imagine what he was telling me. Abruptly, a stinging sensation met my cheek and I fell to the ground. It took me a second to realize he had hit me.

"Don't you dare ever cross me, Edward. I don't think you would enjoy the consequences."