Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Warning: This story contains scenes of self-inflicted injury in a very detailed manner so consider yourself forewarned.

A big thank you to my betas Maddux and Owlpostagain for making this story polished and presentable. :)

Chapter 1: Because of You

"Hands on the mirror,

can't get much clearer,

can't make this all go away.

Now that you're bleeding,

you stare at the ceiling,

watch as it all fades away."

Because of You -Nickelback

BPOV

The bricks dug painfully into my cheek, most likely drawing blood. They were a rough, reddish brown – which filled my vision as unrelenting hands held me down and hard combat boots cracked a few of my healing ribs. I would be back at the doctor in the morning with the excuse of having tripped and fallen down the stairs again. It wasn't like I couldn't handle the pain; it was the bruises that made it all so much more difficult. Even in the summer I wore long sleeves and jeans to cover the purple and blue patches that bloomed across my body. At least in Forks, the summers were mild; long sleeves and jeans didn't stand out like they did in the burning heat of Phoenix.

I never fought back, I welcomed what they did. It grounded me, gave me a release from the addiction, and in their minds, I deserved it. I did deserve it. I hadn't decided yet if I deserved their brand of punishment, but if they didn't do it – I would end up like I was in Phoenix, causing my own pain. My therapist called it self-inflicted injury. I called it punishment – a punishment I deserved. I welcomed their blows and their words.

"She's always silent. She never makes a sound."

"It's unnatural." I knew they whispered about me, I heard them everyday. All those who stood by and watched as my body splintered beneath their anger. They found me to be strange, a freak of nature in my silence. What would they think if they knew of my acceptance, even enjoyment, of the pain?

"Hey asshole! Let go of her!" My eyes snapped open, searching for the voice that was going to stop the hands and feet that ganged up on me – creating my own personal heaven.

She was tiny and I snorted at the thought of them stopping because she told them to. They would merely throw her down next to me and beat her as well. There were a few who had tried to help me before, and failed.

Her eyes flickered to me at my involuntary show of humor. The determination and anger in her eyes pulled me up short and my humor faded as a familiar pair of coarse hands yanked me up into a standing position. I didn't have to turn around to know that James, the owner of the combat boots, would be sneering at this tiny disruption of his games.

"Or what? You'll yell at me some more, pixie?" his chuckle vibrated through his chest as he held me against him in a choke hold. I did not squirm, I did not speak. I could hear several others chuckling at his 'joke' as the tiny girl folded her arms across her chest in angered defiance. Her eyes flickered to me again, searching, no doubt, for some kind of resistance towards him, for a silent plea for help in my eyes. She would find none, I knew.

"Em, Jazz." Her voice was soft, conversational, and the words made no sense. My reaction was, once again, unexpected, as confusion flashed across my features.

"Hey Shorty! You called?" a booming voice echoed across the parking lot as all eyes turned to the newcomers. I fought back another reaction while the rest of the student body gasped, whispered, and stared at the largest man any of us had ever seen. He moved like a lumbering bear, and yet he was somehow much more graceful in his movements. I could feel James' hold loosen considerably, but I did not try to escape.

"Yep, I did. This guy seems to think I was joking when I told him to let her go. He was planning on hurting me like he was hurting her." Her tone gave away nothing, no anger or fear. She was merely stating the facts to her supposed bodyguard. I hadn't seen him earlier, but there was a second male who moved to the tiny girl's side and took her hand while the bear man continued in our direction. James stiffened and moved me in between himself and the bear man. I felt a finger lift my chin until I was staring into the most peculiar shade of golden eyes. I couldn't seem to force myself to break his gaze; his eyes were captivating and alien.

"Were they beating you?" his voice was loud even as he tried to lower it to speak to me. I did not respond, I did not move. His expression twisted in confusion as my silence dragged on. He broke our gaze and I immediately dropped my eyes, only to find myself staring at his broad chest. I could hear the onlooking students start to scatter. James let me go and shoved me into the bear man as sharp footsteps approached.

"Disperse! All of you! Get to class! Is there a problem here Mr...? Who are you three?" Mr. Greene, Forks High School's principal, demanded as he moved to break up the apparently non-existent fight. I stepped back from the bear man, who had steadied me as I had fallen into him. He didn't hold on and I scuttled away while the new trio explained that they were new but that they didn't know what was going on.

As I turned the combination to my locker I heard a bang and lifted my eyes to see the same coarse hands that had yanked me up earlier. I could smell the pot smoke wafting off him as his mouth came in contact with my ear. His voice was rough and gravelly as he whispered to me.

"It's not over Swan. You're mine, forever and always." His tongue slid up my cheek and then he was gone, sweeping down the hallway with his cronies in tow. I could feel my body shudder as I wiped his saliva off my cheek. He was disgusting but he was the source for the pain that I craved.

Maybe my therapist had been right. I am addicted to pain and I would do anything to get it, even play into the hands of someone like James. I opened my locker and pulled out the books I would need for Spanish, but as I turned around all of those said books were scattered as I yelped and dropped them. The pixie girl who had tried to help me earlier was standing directly behind me.

"Hi! I'm Alice!" she stuck out her hand, which was covered in soft leather, and smiled warmly at me. I fought the urge to tell her to fuck off and bent down to pick up my scattered books. She squatted down with me and grabbed one of the notebooks off the floor. On the front of it I had written, in big block letters, FUCK YOU. She studied it curiously before I snatched it out of her leather-covered hand and turned to start towards my class. I was going to be late now, because of the new girl.

"Hey wait! I didn't get your name!" she shouted at my retreating back. I scowled but did not turn around as I continued down the hallway.

"I didn't give it." She didn't say a word after that, maybe she realized the time and ran to class. I didn't care, so long as she didn't keep trying to talk to me. I didn't have friends here and I didn't want any. Most people didn't want to befriend me as it was, so there was never an issue, until now. I sighed as I quietly slipped into my first class of the day. My teacher had already started on the lesson, not that it mattered much to me. I'd already had this class in Phoenix, so I wasn't too worried about the material.

"Senorita Swan. Buenos días. La clase ya empezó, sientate." I nodded and sat down quickly at my regular desk. No one ever sat there, no one ever sat in the chairs I chose in any of my classes. It was a little like they thought I was cursed or would kill them or something. The mystery of silence in a small town had the weirdest effect on people.

A few of my classmates turned to look at me, to stare and then whisper to their friends about the fight this morning. I slumped down a bit in my chair and pulled out my FUCK YOU notebook, the one I wrote everything in. It was a gift from my therapist when I had left Phoenix. She said it would help me work through my addiction so I could grow into a normal young woman.

I had snorted when she said that and she had frowned at me in disapproval. Not that I cared, I would never have to see her again and there were no more of the full body searches to make sure I hadn't cut myself in between sessions. Though my therapist had recommended it, Charlie was too embarrassed about the whole thing to actually put me through that, for which I was grateful. That was one of the reasons I had moved here in the first place; Charlie would never know if I did it or not. He didn't know how to pay attention for the right signs or whatever. Not that he didn't try, he just wasn't good at it like Renee.

I wrote quietly, pretending to focus on the teacher every few seconds, like I was taking notes. What I was writing was far from resembling anything note-like; my words spilled forth, spelling out all the reasons why I deserved what had come to me today and all the dark hatred that sloshed around in my head splattered out on the page like vomit. I liked the way my hand pushed the pen heavily into the paper, similar to the way I push the blades into my skin. I delighted in the way the ink would bleed out of the pen and swell to form my thoughts in rational yet disturbing sentences.

"Miss Swan," a female voice interrupted my musings as I looked up towards the board. My teacher, Mrs. Rodriguez, was glaring at me from her desk. I sighed as I closed my notebook and sat up a little straighter.

"Sí?" She looked at me for a moment before pointing to the board. I read quickly and looked at her again.

"Cuál es la respuesta?" Her eyes were still angry, glaring, unhappy with my inattentiveness. I shifted slightly in my seat, leaning forward to glare right back at her. With a twisted smile I thought it over.

"Numero dos," I answered and then sat back as she nodded before turning to another class member, someone who was probably paying better attention in class. I opened my notebook once again to continue my last train of thought – but the bell rang then, and with a frustrated growl, I was out of my seat, walking to my locker to gather a different set of books.

I didn't see Alice between classes, for which I was silently grateful. I also had yet to see James, which was rare because he loved to torture me any chance he got. I searched around as I walked but he wasn't at any of his usual hang outs, so I made my way to the run down building they called the cafeteria.

I don't eat the food here and I don't bring my own food. I had learned that lesson when I had first gotten into this bloody cycle with James. If I ate, I would puke while he beat me and that, while adding to the pain, was messy and Charlie would notice the smell. I sat down at my usual table, deserted in the corner of the room. I kept my back to the rest of the students and opened my notebook again, this time to draw. This was one of my favorite times of the day as far as soothing the addiction. Sitting like this gave me no warning to his approach and his disgusting hands usually grabbed me hard and yanked me out the door while his cronies followed so they could watch.

It always got my adrenaline going when I didn't know where he was or when he would grab me. It was like a cat and mouse game and I knew he loved it just as much as I did. Today I waited and waited and waited, but there was no commotion, no sound, and no grabbing as the spike and lull of conversation droned on around me. As the period wound down I finally turned to see if he had left for the day and what I saw threw me for a loop.

James was sitting calmly, with his cronies, at another table across the room and he wasn't even trying to look at me or making lewd faces. There was nothing except the purple swelling around his nose. What I hadn't noticed was that in between our two tables, at one of the tables in the center of the cafeteria, sat the new group of students and then it dawned on me. Bear man had caught up with James.

I felt my stomach lurch as my body reacted to the idea of my source getting cut off. How could they?! Didn't they understand? But they didn't understand, couldn't understand what it was like to be addicted, so hopelessly addicted to the release. I felt the tears start to form as my eyes took in the scene. My anger grew towards this bear man and pixie girl who seemed to think they could just swoop in and change everything.

As I glared at them, my brain started to spin, the anger intensifying, but then I realized that the trio was not a trio any longer. They had come with more than just three. There were five of them and not one of them was eating. My glare changed to curiosity as I watched them interact, like a family. I felt my heart wrench and I stood quickly, gathered my things, and left for my car.

Today was no day to be at school, I had needs and they weren't being met. It was raining again as I stepped out of the cafeteria but I didn't bother with a hood. My hair was the least of my worries now. My mind had honed in on reaching the scissors underneath my bed – sharp steel that would wash away the stress of such an odd day.

My truck roared to life, canceling out the chance of a sneaky getaway, but I pulled out without thinking twice about the consequences and exited the parking lot towards Charlie's house. The drive wasn't supposed to be long; normally it wasn't long at all but this time it dragged. It didn't matter that I was pushing my piece of shit truck as fast as it would go, but it wasn't fast enough for me.

When I finally pulled up to the curb I found myself leaping out of the cab, which was not the best idea, seeing how I then proceeded to fall flat on my face into a bit of mud. Yet the mud went unnoticed as I pushed myself up and ran for the door. Charlie wouldn't be home for a few hours, I had time to really push myself. I wiped off the mud with a towel in my room as I hastily leaned down to grab the scissors from their hiding place.

I whirled around with them and stumbled my way to the bathroom as the adrenaline started to pulse through my veins. I sat and I tugged my loose jeans down to reveal the milky complexion of the skin of my thighs. Mine was a body that could have been beautiful, at least that was what my mother always told me. I thought the beauty was found in the rows of scars that contrasted harshly against the milky color. They were red, angry scars that spoke of the pain and fear I had so frequently experienced. I sighed as I studied the beauty that was my addiction.

I let my hand drop lightly to my leg as I opened the scissors as wide as they would go before pressing lightly to the skin. I waited a moment, letting my heart slow down and then slowly added more and more pressure until the sharp edge was cutting into the scarred surface. I let my hand push down as I dragged the blade across, letting the tip of the scissors, the sharpest corner, scrape against the skin. I watched in fascination as the blood drops beaded up to the surface and bloomed out onto my leg, like a flower. The blood grew as I set the scissors on my other leg and it began to run slowly in rivulets down to the bathroom floor.

There wasn't much blood but there was enough to keep me content as the pain set me free and gave me the release I had been craving. I don't know how long I sat there until I heard the cruiser outside of the house and I pulled myself up quickly before grabbing a Kleenex. I wet the tissue and rubbed off the dried blood, cleaned up the floor and my scissors, and then pulled on my jeans. I winced as my quick movements stretched out my injured ribs. I could hear Charlie as he unlocked the door and I ran quickly to hide my scissors.

"Bells?" his low voice carried up the stairs as he hung up his gun and pulled off his shoes. I walked casually out of my room and down the stairs with a smile as I tried to come up with an excuse as to why there was no dinner just yet.

"Sorry Ch-Dad. I had so much homework I just got caught up. Let me heat something up real quick." Charlie chuckled as he inched himself towards the living room.

"That's okay, Bells. I wanted to catch the score on the game anyway. I'll be back in when dinner's ready." Then he was gone, lowering himself into his armchair with an exhausted sigh.

I sighed as well, in relief. I was rather good at covering for myself but one could never be too careful. I opened the fridge and pulled out some leftover casserole I had made the other day. I grabbed two plates and, after dishing out the food, heated it up.

"You know," I felt myself jump in surprise as my normally loud father spoke unexpectedly from the kitchen table, "I can take care of myself, Bells. Been doin' it for years. You don't have to be here all the time for me. How come I never see you go out with any friends or call anyone on the phone?" I took a deep breath, letting my heart rate slow down as I grabbed the two dishes from the microwave and set them on the table. Of course Charlie would take today, of all days, to bring up the fact that I am always at home.

"I have a lot of homework and projects I have to do and so do my friends. We aren't really the partying type, Dad." I tried to sound like the good student, the one who does everything she is told and does it well. I felt phony saying it though, and I couldn't be sure he would accept that as a viable answer. Charlie folded the newspaper he usually read during dinner and tossed it lightly onto the ground at his feet before looking up at me. He didn't buy it.

"Honey, I know it was hard in Phoenix and I don't want to have to send you back there, but you need to live. Go out, have a good time, you're only seventeen once, you know." There was no room for argument, not this time. My father would send me back to Phoenix, the one place I refused to be sent to, if I did not start to have a social life. What parent has to force their kid to party? Apparently mine. I tried to put on my most sincere expression as I met Charlie's gaze.

"You're right, Dad. I'm sure I can get a few of my friends out one of these weekends. We could go to a movie or something in Port Angeles." Right, keep it vague, the next few weeks or whatever. The hard part was that in such a small town, I had to actually go with someone because, invariably, Charlie would ask about my night out with 'friends' and their parents would inform him that I had not gone with their child. Ug, small town life.

I trudged up to bed that night, finding myself utterly exhausted after the stress of the most unique day of my life so far in Forks. Not that unique was good in this case, it seemed everything that could go wrong did go wrong. As I flopped down on my bed I made a mental note to dispose of the bloody Kleenex tomorrow after Charlie had left for work.

In the dark I let the day run through my mind. I still didn't understand why this new girl had such an interest in me. I didn't understand what was up with the bear man's eyes and I didn't understand why they thought that it was okay to just up and interrupt the normalcy of life at Forks High School. Most of those who were new tried to fit in, it was human nature, unless you were me. Now this new group comes tromping in and changing the way my routine works. I bit back a growl as I contemplated telling them off for meddling with my source.

Assholes. Who did they think they were anyway?

Thoughts, feelings? Let me know. :)