Chapter One

Trapped

Bella

Date (Thursday)

My pen flew across the paper at a rapid speed. My hand moved swiftly and gracefully over the page, scrawling my pictures and designs. This seemed to be my only outlet lately. My only way of releasing the emotions before they choked me up and reduced me to nothing.

I was accustom to my solitude and even enjoyed it, finding comfort in this old and worn leather bound journal my grandmother had given me on my twelfth birthday. At the time I had received it, I did what any young girl would do… tossed it aside and forgot about it. A year later after she had passed, scribbling in it became my only way of staying close to her. Words never came easily to me and my own thoughts didn't even always make sense. Ignoring the faint lines that striped down the pages, I stenciled out pictures in place of empty words. Nothing special, no works of art. They were just meant for me. I could easily look back on them to see what my mood was during that time. Between the harsh, dark lines and the soft, smooth stokes, I didn't need words to remind me of the memories. It was all there on the pages. And only I knew what to look for.

For the longest time, my grandmother was the only one in my life that truly cared. She had cared about my life, my dreams, my thoughts and ideas. Most of all, my grandmother was my only source of love. My parents, well, their idea of love wasn't exactly how I imagined it should be.

Without her, it seemed all I had was this silly journal to talk to. It was a way to keep in touch with her, even though she's no longer here. It was the only way for me to talk to someone. She was always the only person who listened.

My body jerked and my thoughts were broken off at the sound of a loud banging coming from what sounded like the living room. I got up from my creaky old bed to press my ear against my bedroom door. The sounds of my parent's voices were muffled by the door in between us but I could still tell he was mad. It seemed he was always mad.

I fought with myself for a moment, contemplating on whether I should go out there to see if mother was alright. Right as the adrenaline started to pump through my veins and my hand touched the knob, the distinct sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and turned to my window overlooking the yard. I saw the back of him retreating down the driveway to his car—a police cruiser as irony would have it.

I waited at the window until I could no longer see the taillights. When I knew for sure that he'd driven away, the coast was clear to leave my room. Quickly, I moved to the bathroom to brush my teeth and cleanup for school. I brushed the tangles from my hair but other than that didn't do much with it. It was long and brown and hung in loose waves down my back. It wasn't messy or frizzy so I didn't feel compelled to style it—not that I had the means to do so even if I wanted to.

After finishing in the bathroom, I scrounged around in the kitchen for some sort of breakfast. I found none. Having to skip breakfast, I went back to my room to get all my school stuff around.

Shoving my journal into my bag, I ran out the door. My car is old and beaten up but is still in working condition—most of the time. After a couple tries, the engine started up and I was on my way to school.

Unlike most teens my age, I didn't think school was that bad. The other students there tended to act like I was part of the background. That was fine by me. I didn't like unnecessary attention and was happy to stay out of the spotlight.

My aversion to everyone got me labeled as a Social Outcast. Once again, that was fine by me—or at least that's what I kept telling myself. Every so often, I would have a bad day when someone decided to harass me. Those instances were normally short and far in between. The occasional name calling or shove in the hallway was inevitable and after a while it stopped getting on my nerves. Compared to my life at home, it really wasn't so bad.

During sophomore year I'd accidentally sat in "Lauren's seat". Lauren Mallory and her best friend, Jessica Stanley, were possibly the meanest teenage girls in history. At least that's what it seemed to me. For whatever reason, the two of them had made it their personal mission that year to make sure my school life was hell. It was like a game to them. The more miserable they made me, the better.

The seats weren't actually assigned but apparently I'd sat in the wrong one. Lauren and Jessica finally pestered me into moving. When I'd stood to go to another seat, Lauren stuck her high heeled foot in front of mine, tripping me. Luck was on my side as I was able to catch the edge of another desk to hold myself up. "Freak" Lauren had nearly spat at me. Jessica piped in by saying, "She's not just a freak, she's the freak".

Her malicious statement didn't really bother me because it sounded like something a very… well, a very stupid person would say—I mean, come on, are we in third grade? What had gotten to me was that it actually caught on. I was no longer Isabella the Outcast; I was now simply The Freak.

I rolled my eyes whenever I would hear that name. It seemed immature and dense and I was determined to not let it get to me. Even after receiving such an awful nickname, school was still better than home.

Upon arriving at school I headed straight for my first hour class, History with Mr. Banner, even though the school day didn't officially start for another ten minutes. Mr. Banner was a kind man in his early forties. He always let me come into class before school hours and never questioned why. I offered him a shy smile and he smiled back before looking down again at his papers.

I took my usual seat in the back row to stay out of eyeshot from the other students. Even though I knew they would still be able to see and talk about me in hushed whispers that never failed to make my ears burn, they at least wouldn't be behind me. When they were in front, I could at least see them, maybe even block a paper ball before it reached me.

I passed the time by doodling in my journal. Not long after I'd started, the bell rang and other students filed in. Most ignored me while others stared, scowled, and took their seats. I turned my gaze back to the desktop in front of me, mentally rolling my eyes. I quickly placed my journal back in my bag, not wanting to give any of them the chance to see what I'd been sketching, and waited for class to start.

Classes that morning had gone by fast and inconsequentially, excluding the odd snicker and whispers that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to raise, and soon it was lunch. I was waiting in the lunch line when the boy in front of me—a freshman no less—turned my way, smirked, and called me "The Freak". He turned back around to the sound of his friends howling with laughter. I rolled my eyes and paid them no mind, used to this sort of treatment.

I hastily paid for my lunch with the small amount of money he gave me every week. He honestly probably wouldn't have cared if I died of hunger. All he cared about was keeping up appearances. I'd overheard him talking to mom once saying that he wanted to get promoted to Chief and he'd be damn if he'd let me screw up his chances.

I made my way to my regular table in the corner of the cafeteria. This used to be where the "band geeks" sat but after a while even they didn't want to be near me.

I took my seat and pulled my journal out of my bag, doodling small mindless sketches on the cover while trying to ignore the fact that I had no one to sit with. I looked up from my journal after a few minutes, thinking, when my eye caught Edward Cullen walking into the cafeteria.

Edward was in every way the stereotypical popular boy. His dark brown hair complemented his slightly tanned skin which complemented his green eyes. This added to the "popular" thing. He had it all: good looks, girls swooning over him at every turn, and his family was made of money. The only thing he lacked was a decent disposition.

He'd probably let the popularity go to his head which allowed his ego to inflate twice the size of a normal persons'. He was always with different girls, never staying with the same one for extensive periods of time with the lone exception of Jessica. That girl always seemed to be hanging off his arm. Even now as he walked toward his regular table, his tall frame slight hunched, she hung off his arm.

For what seemed like the hundredth time today, I rolled my eyes. I honestly didn't understand the appeal he had for these girls. But what do I know? I'm just The Freak.

Edward and Jessica joined the others at their table which consisted of the rest of the "in" crowd. Edward sat next to who I've always assumed was his best friend, Jasper Hale.

Jasper, too, was a tall boy with good looks. All of them had good looks. Jasper had sandy blond hair and brown eyes. To me, he'd never come across as a jerk like his friend. He hadn't ever picked on me—which in itself is more than I could say about most people at this school—but he'd never stopped them either. I couldn't really fault him for that, though; his reputation would be down the drain if he was seen sticking up for The Freak. He also doesn't sleep around with all the girls in school. In fact, for as long as I'd know him he'd always been with Alice.

Alice Brandon, like her boyfriend, was never malicious to anyone, not just me, as far as I could tell. She was beautiful, of course, with long black as pitch hair and olive toned skin. It was rare to find her without a smile on her face and her dark eyes were always friendly. She had the looks of a super model. Even her height resembled that of a model. Maybe just a few inches taller than my five foot three stature, though the high-high heels she always wore made it hard to tell for sure. She was the epitome of beauty.

Emmett Cullen, Edward's brother, sat there too. He was tall and muscular—being that he was on the football team. His dark hair was curly and often in a mess. Somehow though, maybe coupled with good charm and wit, he pulled off the slightly mussed look.

Looking between the two brothers, you could easily point out their differences. There should be differences, although, considering that they aren't actually related. They had both been adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Cullen when they were young, or so I've heard. I don't know much about their family or anyone else's either. I've never really taken the time or effort to get to know anyone at this school and no one's tried to get to know me. Besides the occasional teasing, everyone here seems to act like I don't exist and that's fine by me. Preferable even.

Next to Emmett at the table was his girlfriend, Rosalie Hale. Rosalie was also Jasper's older sister. She had the same sandy hair and brown eyes of her brother but a starkly different persona. She wasn't quite as malicious as Jessica and Lauren but she wasn't exactly what you call friendly either. She had never been one to start harassing me but she had no problem jumping in once someone else had gotten the ball rolling. Just like Alice, she was beautiful in a very professionally airbrushed way. She was tall, not quite the height of her younger brother but still fairly taller than Alice.

All in all, they were the perfect and clichéd definition of an in-crowd.

Jessica, Lauren, and Tanya normally sit at their table too. It was easy to tell they only sat there to be with Edward on account that they always follow him like lost puppy dogs. Lauren and Jessica seemed to be the only truly malevolent ones out of the three. Tanya had never stuck me as the mean type. We used to have a music class together and she was actually friendly towards me. Sometime during junior year that all changed. Now she was almost as bad as her friends. I didn't know what happened and I barely knew her enough to ask her about it. I brushed it off as the high school peer pressure got to her and told her to not be my friend.

It really wasn't a big loss.

My eyes shifted back to Edward, noticing how he leaned more toward Jasper and away from Jessica who still had his arm in her grip. I was about to let loose a small, amused snort when I saw her lean into his ear to whisper something. His eyes immediately shot to me, glaring as he met my gaze.

My eyes quickly shifted back to my journal as if on their own accord. A burning sensation flamed in my cheeks and I knew I was blushing. I decided the safest thing for me to do was mind my own business and get back to scribbling designs on the cover of my journal.

Once the bell rang, I was up and out of my seat. I headed right to the English classroom to ensure I got a seat in the back. I sat just in time to watch as Edward strolled in the room, this time with Lauren hanging off him. I looked away in a hurry, not wanting to get caught staring again. This was the one class of the day I had with him and I was glad it was the only one. I didn't like being around any of them and their insane popularity.

Thankfully, class went by smoothly as did the rest of classes that day. When the final bell rang, I was one of the first out in the parking lot. The drive home didn't take long and soon I was lying on my bed working on the small pile of homework that had accumulated throughout the day.

I was just finishing a worksheet for History when I heard keys jingling at the front lock. Slowly rising from my bed, I walked over to my door. I waited for a second, hearing the front door creaking open. I let out a relieved breath as I heard the sound of mother's high heeled shoes on the tiled floor.

I opened my door and went to meet her in the kitchen.

"Hey, Bella," she said with a smile as she saw me in the doorway of the kitchen. "Want to help me get dinner around? I'm thinking spaghetti with homemade pesto."

I nodded and started fetching the supplies we would need. We fell in step while cooking, not needing to keep up conversation. This was the one time of day she and I really got the chance to spend time together. When he would come home she basically acted like I was part of the furniture, not really worth noticing.

Even though we didn't talk, I always felt a strong connection with mom right here while making dinner. She was the one that taught me everything I knew about cooking.

She was a different person here in our small, cramped kitchen. She was more carefree and sometimes even experimental with her creations. The rest of the time, she was more precise and routine. I liked this version of her.

My happy thoughts broke off to the sound of tires on the driveway. I swallowed hard as I heard his engine cut off and the sound of his car door opening.

It all served to remind me that my life was not carefree and fun. My life was strict and harsh. I knew from experience that no matter how much or how hard I wish for a different life, this is the one I will always have. This is the life I will forever be trapped in.

I heard his key turn in the lock and silently prayed to God that he'd had a good day.