Alyssa's POV

I let out a muffled sigh as my parents pull up to the old Victorian house that I will be living in until I graduate from the hell I call high school. I still don't get it. Why did my parents decide to pack up their lives in New York so they could start over in the boring town of Rosewood Pennsylvania?

In theory I know why. They thought that this town was exactly what I needed to heal. That moving here would magically erase all the pain and hardships I've had to endure over the last year and a half. They're convinced that a new town will give me a fresh start.

Well, they're wrong. I'm still Alyssa Fitz. I'm still a hopeless seventeen year-old girl who's deeply wounded, and damaged beyond repair. All they see when they look at me is hope. Hope that I can somehow turn my life around, and become the girl I was before this whole ordeal started. Don't they know by now that hope breeds eternal misery? Don't they see that I'm never going to go back to being the happy and carefree Alyssa that I used to be? I guess not because they still haven't given up on me, even though I desperately wish they would.

"We're finally here! Doesn't the house look beautiful Alyssa?" My mom asks as she turns to face me.

No, it doesn't. This house looks like it hasn't been renovated since the eighteenth century, and I already miss our modern apartment that overlooked New York City. Even though terrible things happened in that house, I grew up there, and I still consider it to be my home. But my mom seems so excited to be here, and I don't want to ruin this for her. I've already destroyed my Mom's old life, and I don't want to ruin her fresh start as well.

"Yeah, it's perfect." I say as I force a smile.

"That's the spirit Alyssa. I knew you'd love it." My dad says as he stares into the blue eyes that I inherited from him.

Even though my dad is looking right at me, he doesn't see me. He sees his perfect little girl who doesn't have a single flaw. He doesn't see how everything that happened was my fault. In his eyes I'm the victim of this terrible tragedy, and there wasn't anything I could have done to prevent my life from spiraling out of control. If only he could see how wrong he is. If he could, would he still stare at me with such deep love and affection?

"I wish the boys were here. We could use some help moving in." My mom says with a heavy sigh.

The boys my mother is referencing are my two older brothers. Matthew is twenty-two years old, and he's just starting his senior year at Georgetown University. My other brother Patrick just turned nineteen, and he is now a Freshman at Emory University. It's my first year with both of them out of the house. I thought I'd be sad about being an only child, but oddly enough I'm not.

Ever since I could remember, my brothers have always teamed up against me. Being the youngest child and the only girl in the family, I had the largest target on my back. They'd constantly call me names like "princess" and "baby", and tease me at every chance they got. Sometimes it hurt, but usually it didn't bother me. They were my brothers, and like it or not, teasing me was their job. Even though they could be incredible rude to me, I knew they always had my back. And they still do, but things are different now...

Ever since the accident, there hasn't been any teasing or name calling. Instead, my brothers treat me like I'm a delicate little butterfly who can't be messed with in any way shape or form. Just like my father, they don't see me. All they see is a victim, who was wronged by someone else's actions. And I hate being seen as the victim. I just want to be Alyssa again.

"Honey, you look exhausted. Why don't you go upstairs to your new room and take a long nap? Your mother and I can start unpacking while you rest." My father offers.

"It's okay..." I start to say.

"Alyssa, we insist! Go upstairs and get some sleep. I'll wake you up for dinner." My mom says before kissing my forehead, and shoeing me out of the car.

They didn't even ask me what I wanted to do. Just like always, they assumed. Oh well. I guess a nap doesn't sound too bad after all. I walk out of the moving van that my parents rented before entering the new house, and making my way up a long and windy path of stairs. I've only been inside of this house once, but I know that my room is down the hallway and to the left.

I enter the room and take in the appearance of the place I'm going to be spending most of my time in for the next two years. It's spacious but cozy, and it overlooks the street we now live on. Even though it's not the most elaborate bedroom in the world, I'll find a way to make this space my own. As of now, this bedroom is the only thing I have that's my own.

I let out a tired yawn, before flopping onto the new bed that my parents just ordered for me. It's king sized, and even though they've always said that I didn't need such a large bed, they ordered it for me as soon as I asked for it. My parents will pretty much get me whatever I ask for now. I guess something good did come out of this disaster after all.

Line Break

"Honey, it's time for dinner." I hear a familiar voice say.

My eyes flutter open, and I realize that my mother is sitting next to me in bed. I guess I fell asleep. Maybe I needed a nap after all.

"I'm tired." I grumble as burry my head in my pillow.

"I know you are, but you have to eat something." My mom tells me gently.

I don't want to eat. Ever since the accident, I've found no pleasure in eating even my favorite foods. I've always been skinny, but now I'm basically skin and bones. I know it worries my mom, and she's asked me several times if I have an eating disorder. I always tell her I don't, and that's the truth. The only disorder I have is eternal sadness.

"I made your favorite. Lasagna with garlic bread." My mom says, trying to cheer me up.

But I don't have the energy to get out of bed, and I certainly don't have the energy to walk downstairs and have dinner with my parents. I just want to lay in bed, and sleep for a while. When I'm asleep, I don't have to think about anything.

"What if I brought a plate of food upstairs? Would you eat it?" My mom questions.

Maybe. I wouldn't mind eating if I could stay in bed. I give my mom a small nod, and she responds by scurrying out of the room to get my food. Moments later she comes back with a plate of lasagna and several pieces of garlic bread.

"Thanks." I mutter as I take the food from my mom, and dig my fork into the plate of lasagna. I take a bit of the food, and swallow it slowly. It tastes pretty good I guess.

"How is it?" My mom asks me curiously.

"Good." I say as I look up at my mother, who has tears pouring out of her eyes. Why is she crying? What have I done this time?

"Mom, what's wrong?" I ask with panic in my voice.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." My mom says before forcing a smile, and bending down to kiss my forehead.

She's lying. Everything is wrong. I've caused my family so much pain and stress, and it kills me on the inside. I just want them to stop worrying about me. I don't care about what happens to me, and I wish they'd realize that and move on with their lives.

"I think Rosewood will be good for you Alyssa. It will give you a chance to start over. You know?" My mom asks as she stares into my blue eyes.

I don't know. Even though I'm in a new town, I'm still the old me. There is no going back after what I went through, so I've given up on trying to heal. But my mom doesn't need to know that. It won't hurt my mom to tell her what she wants to hear.

"Yeah, maybe it will be." I mutter.

My mom smiles a little. I have her fooled.

"I have you scheduled to meet with your new therapist tomorrow morning. I know we just got here, but you start school next week and I'd like you to get a few therapy sessions in before your first day." My mom tells me seriously.

I groan in response. I hate therapy, and my parents know this.

"Do I have to go?" I ask with a heavy sigh.

"Yes. I'm sorry honey, but you do." My mom tells me apologetically.

"Why?" I challenge.

"Because therapy is part of the healing process." My mom says, for the millionth time this year.

"Where did you get that line? Off one of the pamphlets in Dr. Johnson's room?" I ask as I roll my eyes in annoyance.

My mom looks hurt. Genuinely hurt. I guess I still haven't learned how to keep my mouth shut during situations like these.

"I'm trying here Alyssa. I'm really really trying, and so is your father..." My mom starts to say.

"I know. I'm sorry." I mutter as I avoid looking into her eyes.

"You have nothing to apologize for. What happened wasn't your fault, and you know that. I just wish you'd try too. This will only define you and where you go from here if you let it." My mom says before grabbing one of my curls and tucking it behind my ear.

"You don't understand..." I start to say.

"Maybe not, but Dr. Dalton will. She works with girl's like you on a daily basis, and she knows exactly how to help you." My mom says to me.

"You said the same thing about Dr. Johnson, and she didn't help me in the slightest. If anything, she made me feel worse." I say as tears begin to form in my eyes.

Dr. Johnson was my therapist in New York. She was easily in her seventies, and her room always smelled like cat pee. I hated her sessions almost as much as I hated her.

"Alyssa, don't cry honey. Tell me why you didn't like Dr. Johnson." My mom instructs.

"I didn't like her because she looked at me like I was a total freak-show. She hated me mom, and I'm convinced that she blames me for everything." I say with a sniffle.

"You're so wrong. Dr. Johnson cared a great deal for you; I could see it in her eyes. And she didn't blame you for what happened Alyssa. No one in their right could ever blame you." My mom says as she begins to shake her head vigorously.

Does that mean I'm out of my mind? I blame myself everyday for what happened, and I'm sure everyone from my old school did too. Maybe my mom's the one who's crazy. But I doubt it. I think my mother is in denial.

"You do know that though, right? That what happened wasn't your fault?" My mom asks me gently.

I don't want conflict, so I simply nod my head. She doesn't need to know how I truly feel about the matter. The truth would only cause her confusion and heart-break.

"I got you a present." My mother tells me suddenly.

A present? Last time I checked it wasn't a birthday or a holiday. Things have been so weird around here lately.

"What's the occasion?" I ask her curiously.

"There's no occasion. I was at the store and I saw this. It made me think of you." My mom mutters before pulling a small box out of her pocket, and handing it to me.

I open the box, and see a glass angel covered in bubble wrap. Did my mom honestly see an angel and think of me? I'm no angel, but she doesn't know that.

"What do you think?" My mother asks me hopefully.

"It's beautiful." I say as I force a smile.

My mom beams, and gently takes the figurine out of the box. She puts it on the nightstand next to my bed, and stares at it for a minute.

"You know how much I love you, don't you Alyssa?" My mom asks me softly.

"I do." I tell her truthfully.

"Good. You've always been my angel, and your father's too. Ever since the day you were born, you've brought us so much joy and happiness..." My mom starts to ramble.

Her words are ironic. I haven't made them happy lately. The only thing I ever seem to do is make my mother cry, and my father grimace. They would never admit it though. Not even to themselves.

"Anyways, I hope that having this angel by your bedside gives you some form of comfort and joy. I owe you that much." My mom says with a teary smile.

"No. You really don't owe me anything." I say as I begin to shake my head vigorously.

"Well if you insist." My mom jokes before pressing a soft kiss against my forehead.

"Thank you for the present. I really, really like it." I say, trying to cheer her up.

"I'm so glad to hear it sweetheart. Your father and I were talking, and we thought a movie night would be fun. Do you want to come downstairs with us? You can even choose the movie." My mom offers.

That doesn't sound like fun at all. I used to be close to my parents, but these days every interaction with them seems forced and stressful. I'd rather just hole up into my room and go to sleep early.

"Actually, I'm really tired. I kind of wanted to sleep..." I start to say.

"Okay. I understand. Goodnight sweetheart. I'll be downstairs if you need anything." My mom says before pulling me in for a tight hug.

"Okay. Goodnight." I say, hoping she'll leave soon.

My mom gets the message because she climbs out of the bed and leaves my room. She closes the door behind her, and I take a minute to enjoy the feeling of being completely alone. My parents rarely leave me alone anymore, and for a good reason. They know what I'm capable of under the right kinds of pressures.

I rest my head on my soft pillow, and close my eyes for a while. I imagine that I'm not Alyssa Fitz, and that none of this ever happened. I'm a carefree seventeen year-old girl with plenty of friends, straight A's, and a gorgeous boyfriend. I never have to go to therapy, and I never have mental breakdowns. I'm perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Line Break

I wake up in a cold sweat. I can't believe I had another nightmare about what happened. Every time my problems show up in my dreams, I have to relive them over and over again, and I absolutely hate it.

"Breathe Alyssa. Breathe. It was just a dream." I say, trying to calm myself down.

But it wasn't a dream. It really happened. I let out an audible sob as I burst into tears. Where is my mom? I usually scream during my nightmares, and she comes rushing into my room to comfort me. Maybe I didn't scream this time because my room is completely empty. For once, I wish I weren't alone. I just want my mom to hold me like she always does on nights like these.

I know. I'll wake her up to tell her about my dream. But I know I shouldn't. My mom looked exhausted earlier, and she needs her rest. I don't want to deprive her of another night of sleep. I'm a big girl. I can clam myself down without her here to hold my hand and hum to me.

I know one thing that always clams me down... No. I can't. I haven't cut since this summer. Even if I wanted to, it would be impossible. After my parents found out about my bad habit, they began to make sure that nothing sharp was in my room. There probably isn't anything in here that I could use.

Actually, there is. My eyes dart over to the glass angel on my nightstand. I know I shouldn't use my mom's gift to harm myself, but I don't have any other options. I take the fragile angel, and begin to rub its wing on the skin directly below my right hip. I used to cut my wrists, but my parents noticed the marks. Now that they know about my habit, I have to be careful of where I leave the cuts. They can't know that I'm doing this because if they found out, they'd freak out and send me back to the mental institution I was at few months ago. I can't go back there. I just can't.

I grimace at the pain that comes with cutting my lower hip. It hurts, but it feels good too. I know I should stop. I already feel blood trickling out of my skin, and I know that I'll leave a scar if I keep rubbing there. But I can't stop. I'm out of control.

After what seems like eternity, I pull the angel away from my hip. I sigh before crawling out of bed, and entering my bathroom. I take the angel and wipe the blood off its wing, and then I wipe the blood off my leg.

I was stupid to cut so deep. I don't have any bandaids in my new room, and if I go back to bed my mom will see the blood on my sheets. I can't have that. I take a seat on my bathroom floor, where I will remain until the bleeding calms. It could be hours, or it could be minutes. Maybe it doesn't really matter how deep the cut is, or how long it bleeds for. A wound is a wound regardless of its size or importance.

An: What did you think of chapter one? Obviously this is a dark story, and I might consider changing it to an M rating depending on the feedback I get as the story progresses. Any predictions on what the big accident was? The next chapter will be told from Blake's POV, and him and Alyssa will briefly meet for the first time. What do you think of Alyssa and the plot so far? I was hesitant to post this story at first since it's so unlike anything I've ever done, and I'm not sure what the response will be. Do you think I should continue? Please review and let me know. Thanks for reading :)