It seemed everywhere I looked there was ridicule or pain. Everywhere I ran I was alone and in pain. There was that stupid brat Melinda at school who would never understand anything besides makeup. There was the supposed law system meant to protect the innocent against various crimes, but what happened to mine? What happened to protecting me against heinous acts of injustice?

Why was I chosen to deal with this burden? To run from everything as it was usually out to get me. As they always say, if it's beautiful it's probably poisonous. Why did they always have to be so damn right?

Blood dotted the frost covered ground. Dry prickly pieces of grass dug into my bruised flesh through the thin clothing. Weak puffs of mist came from my chapped, blue tinted, lips. Hypothermia sucked to say the least. I struggled to suck in a breath only to emit a choked cough as coagulated blood came fluttering up from my lungs.

How did I get here you might ask? Well it all started out like this...

I got ready for school in silence. My usual thing really because sound wasn't incorporated into my life. No I wasn't deaf, I was mute. My vocal cords were snipped at a young age when my dad, if you could call him that, got drunk and one thing led to another.

I sighed softly and finished in the bathroom and walked out, my thin black jean clad legs were slow to carry me to the door. Black boots barely making any noise as I peaked around the corner. Softly dark earthy brown hair, cut short as it wasn't as easy to grab, hung in my face slightly.

I slunk forward with care as I did not wish to awaken my father. He was a real beast when awoken early. Swallowing I crept down the stares, my slightly too small red hoody pulled around me snugly as it gently tugged on what little curves I had. The living room was cluttering in alcohol bottles as usual, the snores from the sofa told me the old man hadn't drunk himself into a coma yet. Damn.

Scowling at the single piece of furniture in the room besides the small white coffee table, I snagged my book bag and darted for the door, barely making it out as I heard the telltale grunt of awareness.

Shutting the door carefully I took in a deep breath and let it out as I walked to school, plugging my earphones into my ears. The new song "Dream" by Imagine Dragons, playing in my ears as I crossed the road to my school slowly.

I ignored the people around me as usual, letting them fade into the background. The noise of laughter and happiness, taunting and sorrow, anger and sensuality all falling away. Leaving me in a blissfully silent world shrouded only in the music of my song.

As I pulled my headphones hesitantly from my ears I placed it in my locker and stuffed the majority of my books and other school 'essentials' into said red locker. Out of nowhere I felt myself being pushed into the locker. Melinda smirked at me; here we go again, I thought with an eye roll.

"Well if it isn't the ugly little duckling."

I practiced self control silently, taking in a deep breath and counting to ten and then letting it out. Offering a strained smile I maneuvered around her and strode through the hallway.

I paused when I heard the sound of giggling and laughter, another group of girls associated with Melinda stood there. They were obviously talking about me, and no I was not paranoid. They made it fairly evident by the way they would give me sideways looks and giggle. The only one in the group I noticed that wasn't mocking me was her. The hottest girl in school. Mikaela Banes.

I frowned and shook my head, striding into class without another thought. It didn't bother me anyways. Not now at least.

The bell rang, pulling me from my stupor as I stood up. I watched as Sam Witwicky, the only male I had ever had eyes for leave the class room. His smile and eyes only for the one girl I felt major bitterness towards, Mikaela. It seemed like years ago, him babbling about his great grandfather and trying to pawn off his heirlooms to get a car.

My bittersweet smile faded as I left to get to my locker and get home. Daddy would no doubt be very angry if I was late again. Sighing quietly I gathered my things and slammed my locker with my shoulder. Walking down the hallways quickly I bumped into someone, not paying attention to who they were I kept walking. What I failed to miss was the way three pairs of eyes followed me in concern.

I quickly threw open the doors to the school and exited as fast as I could. The cold winter wind whipping my hair around my face in a blaze. My dark brown eyes narrowed against the cold as said atmosphere stung my eyes and caused them to water. Blinking rapidly, I shook my head and pulled my books closer to my chest.

The frigid wind plucked and snapped at me like a raging beast causing me to stumble slightly from its ferocity. Shivering I breathed in the dry air and coughed. My dark eyes flicked up from the ground to catch sight of a group of men talking with Sam and Mikaela. My brows furrowed in confusion when I noticed the way Mikaela looked at me with...

Anger clouded my mind as I wrinkled my nose, a silent snarl rumbling in my chest. Pity. It was the one thing I hated and never wanted in my life. Turned my eyes away I hunched my shoulders, "I don't give a damn what they think.!" I snapped internally. That was the thing too, I didn't care. I was done giving any care in the world.

Of course, now that I think about it. Maybe I should have crept over for warmth and a conversation. That night I should have never returned home. I was stupid to ignore the feeling of dread in my stomach.

I continued to creep past them in silence, striding faster if anything when I noticed one of them hesitantly take a step forward. I quickly escaped them and arrived to my home street. All of the yards were well groomed and the houses up to standard maintenance and protocol. Mine? Not so much. The grass was long and a dying unhealthy yellow and falling apart much like my father's and mine relationship.

Swallowing nervously I stepped into the house cautiously. The lights were dark, my eyes flicking around like a nervous animals might. I was the prey here, a sitting duck in the hungry eyes of the sadistic hunter. Taking another step in, the floor boards creaking under my feet, I closed the door carefully.

A sharp pain bloomed in the back of my cranium, my vision swimming with the sudden impact. I stumbled forward with a gasp as I felt something wet drip into my hair, glass shattering as I fell to the floor stunned. A figure approached stealthy like a jungle cat. Fear clenched my chest. My throat closing with panic, I was too disoriented to run away.

A steal toed boot connected with my nose, a fist snagging my jacket and pulling me up off the ground. Blood dripping down my face, into my mouth, over my chin, onto the already crimson fabric and that offending hand.

Steely hazel eyes locked onto my dark orbs. A sadistic smirk coloring his hazard appearance. Something in me snapped, some caged beast made me writhe and yowl in silence. My lips moving and lungs heaving but no sound coming forth. The man's laughter echoed hauntingly in my ears as I was thrown into the wall.

Those steal toes slamming into my breast, cracking my ribs, slamming into my hips and sides. My ankle snapping under the pressure causing an intense agony to erupt within me. I tried to crawl away as the shadow loomed, capturing me, and dragging me back off the stairs.

I looked up in time to see that boot coming down towards my face. My shoulders bunched up as I thrust up my arms weakly to shield myself the best I could. Then, and only then, did the blessed darkness take over my world once again.

What was probably hours later had me waking up to the cold outdoors. My wrists bound and my head hanging low as I attempted to move. Only to fall onto my back and lay uncomfortably on my tied hands. I simply stared up at the sky. Back to square one, this is how I got here. This is how I arrived to my end or at least what could be described as my end.

It was really quiet until I heard the sound of voices, panic, engines, an angry irritated voice telling others to move. I could blearily see large shapes, a panicky voice asking if "The organic would make it," another gruff voice snapping at the other to shut up. Silence once again swallowed my world with his mistress known as slumber right by his side.

I could only hope that I would not awaken again, but I knew that I would.

When I awoke again I found myself in a bed. Covered in heavy white cotton sheets, a cast on my left ankle, what felt like gauze on my ribs and chest. Everything was aching and hurting. An obnoxious beeping was actually the first thing I had noticed, and then everything else.

My eyes slowly opened to take in my surroundings. Where was I? What had happened? Everything became apparent as I realized the beeping was a heart monitor. I tried to sit up only to have a doctor carefully push me back down. Since when had a doctor been in here?

My eyes fluttering around quickly, my chest rising and falling in my panic only to cause me more intense pain than before. As the worry caused me to pull my wounds. Flinching I fell back onto the bed without much of a fight. My dark eyes flickering up weakly to see the vivid blue eyes of a military doctor, medic if I remembered the term correctly, looming over me.

My vision began to swim as he said something to me, his face contorting into a look of aggravation as I was swamped yet again by the tendrils of darkness.

When I finally awoke again, this time feeling more refreshed and awake, I noticed that the room was not completely devoid. As the blue eyed doc… medic, I blearily remembered him from before, was in my room. I slowly sat up, grimacing as I clutched my ribs.

"Finally awake now youngling?" The rough voice asked. Was that a British accent I detected? I stayed silent pondering on this man and his strange choice of words. What was a youngling? Maybe he was from somewhere where that meant kid? It was my best guess.

I scowled slightly at that notion. In six months I would be eighteen, I was no child! The medic gave me a look as if he were reading my thoughts. The look alone gave me pause, it was the same look my daddy got when he was contemplating some dangerous thought. Immediately shivers shot down my spine.

The heart monitor giving away my anxiety as it sped up as well, the medic gave it a look that did not bode well for me. It was the look of someone who just had a suspicion confirmed. He couldn't know, no one did. And those who found out didn't care.

"What's your name?" He snapped. I flinched slightly, but forced myself to be calm. I would not show fear, I couldn't. Quirking an eyebrow I tilted my head back slightly to expose the scars on my throat. Acknowledgment swept across the older man's face.

"Mute? One of our soldiers is too." He grunted, opening a drawer to pull out a pad of paper and a pen. He placed them on my legs calmly, arms crossed. I frowned up at him and shakily managed to grab the pen, my hands fumbling and feeling awkward.

The pen paused above the page. Should I tell him? Should I explain what happened? No, I decided. No I should not. It would only lead to more agony. More pain. More heartbreak. I ducked my head and blinked rapidly. After my mother left me with my daddy I... well to put it simply I could not reach out to others.

It resulted in daddy getting angry. Finally after what seemed like a thousand years I lowered my hand to the paper and jotted down the answer to the medic's question.

Autumn.

I paused, my hand above the paper again. Thinking hard for a moment. I could feel the medic's gaze burning into me as he stood at my shoulder watching what I was doing, scrutinizing my words.

Where am I?

"You're at the Tranquility, Nevada Hospital." He grunted. I blinked and looked up at him.

What is a military doctor like you doing here?

"I was ordered to watch after you since it was a friend of ours in the military who found you." I blinked owlishly again and nodded slowly, "Your mec-father has been asking about you nonstop. He seems worried." The medic stated casually.

A chill swept through me causing my free hand to unconsciously curl into the blanket tightly. I merely nodded as it was something that always happened. He failed to kill me so he acted like a concerned father to keep his sorry ass from being suspected by the police. They always over looked him anyways. It didn't matter.

It was going to be hell going back home. If I could put any welcome mat on our porch it would say, "Welcome to Hell". After a few moments I was brought out of my reverie when I realized the medic was speaking.

"-of course with the medication I prescribed to you, all should be well in the next three months maximum." I nodded as if I had been listening all along.

"At any rate, you are to return home. I would keep a closer eye on you, however, my commander requires my assistance elsewhere." I could hear the bitter edge snagging his voice. He must be the type that constantly needed to watch over his patients.

Others might find that annoying, but some desperate part of me latched onto it and warmed at the thought. He genuinely cared which was rare. Suddenly a voice I had wished I would never hear again spoke in concern. It caused my stomach to roll, nausea filling me.

"Pumpkin! I was so worried about you! How is she Dr. Hatchet?" The medic growled faintly when he was spoken too, I blinked up at him. Fear causing my body to freeze, my blood was ice in my veins.

"She's well enough to return home. Give this to her twice a day for pain, with food of course." The doctor's tone sounded cold, his voice holding a frosty snap. The medic left the room, pulling my father with him, to allow a nurse to help me dress. Much to my disdain, I thought about what I would do once I got home. I obviously couldn't run away, the nurse had me in a wheelchair for goodness sakes!

That's when it hit me. I probably wouldn't make it home. And if by some miracle I did... well I would be begging for death by the next hour. A clock on the wall caught my attention as I was wheeled from the hospital, it was eleven-forty pm. For some reason that calmed me, I wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was the thought of how it reminded me of that story my mom used to read me. Cinderella. I had until the clock struck twelve and then my carriage would turn back into a pumpkin. Maybe my Prince Charming would arrive to save me. I snorted internally, yeah right.

My eyes were drawn to the parking lot as my dad whistled a merry tune that sounded sinister to me. He was talking away, happily of course, about all of the fun things we would do while I recovered. It was all a lie, my dad didn't know fun. His idea of fun was torture.

Daddy 'helped' me into the car and closed the door with an ominous slam. He climbed in and backed out of the parking lot, driving home swiftly. The smile dropped once the hospital was out of sight. I waited with baited breath as we got closer and closer to home.

11:50pm.

A jaw twitch and a hand tightened on the steering wheel. A low growl escaped him as the man I called father sent me an eerie look.

11:55pm.

Our road arrived in sight causing me to swallow nervously. He swerved into the driveway of our house a few moments later. Nathaniel Blootmoond climbed from the vehicle and walked around to my side, opening the door to my side and dragged me out by my short hair. A silent cry escaped me as he pushed me into our house. The door slamming closed and locking with finality.

12:00am.

The clocks in our house struck midnight, a bird clock in our kitchen began hooting the noise a Great Horned Owl would. I closed my eyes and didn't have time to open them before he was swinging and screaming. My back slammed into the coffee table.

The wood creaking beneath me as my head swung back and smacked loudly against said table. A silent cry escaped me at that. Suddenly I was being carted off down a hall to what he called 'The Fun Room.' I hated that place. It stank of death and torment. It was the place my mother had left me in, but she hadn't done so willingly. However, it appeared I was destined to follow in her footsteps.

When I awoke my eyes felt heavy and crusted. My body felt tender and bruised, more battered and broken than before. I hiccuped a sniffle. I bit my bottom lip as tears began to drop from my tear ducts, down my high cheek bones ,and off of my chin.

I was in the fun room. Somehow alive. My back was a bloody raw mess of torn flesh, my feminine parts aching from what he had done to me… his own daughter. Everything felt utterly broken. For the first time since my mom died I found myself praying. I prayed to whatever deity was up there to hear me and maybe they did.

AN:

Alright, so I got this edited by Khalthar and now the good version is up. haha.
Fun fact by the way, my house actually has that bird clock, it was my great grannies. Let me know what you think by the way. This is a rewrite of Blue Autumn so it will be a little different, such as I condensed chapters 1-12 into this. Some major changes will occurr, you'll see what those ares, don't you worry. ;)
Any who, again, let me know. ^_^

~D.R. Out