a/n The name is a line from a song by Rooney, i did debate between this name and love will come through by travis, but i think this name fits the story better. This is a sort of introduction chapter and its just Brooke. Hope you enjoy it.

When did your heart go missing?

I was lying in bed curled in a ball listening to Rooney on the radio, my eyes red and puffy my lips swollen from all the tears I had shed.

When did your heart go missing?

My life is one big mess, one huge fucking mess, and I can answer exactly when it turned into this mess and when my heart went missing, when it disappeared so it could never get hurt again, so no-one could ever hurt me again. It was May 13th at 20:52, 3 days after my mum died, my dad had been at bars drowning his sorrows pretty much non stop after the wake. When they finally chucked him out of a bar he came home and took out his anger on me. I was 12 at the time, and it may be 5 yrs later but I'm still his favourite punching bag, I'm still the thing he likes to take his daily frustrations and anger out on when he comes home from work.

He may be my father but I hate him more than words could ever describe, yet at the same time I still love him. It's conflicting and confusing but it's true he is still my father and even though I hate him and what he's done to me I still love him and the opportunities I have in life because of him. But the overriding emotion I feel when I hear his car pull up in the driveway or hear the door open to indicate he's at home is fear I'm so terrified- terrified of him, of what he will do to me should I ever try to leave or tell anyone, which is why I went from little miss popularity to little miss no friends, because without any friends no-one cares and no-one will ever find out and so I'm safe. I'm lonely, lets face it I'm really fucking lonely but its only for one more year and then hopefully I'm off to university- I don't care which one just one that gets me out and as far away from his beatings as possible.

I hold my teddy bear even closer, the only thing I feel that loves me in this world and that's because as an inanimate object it doesn't know any better, but at least I can cry my tears and spill my secrets with out the world knowing and without getting judged.

--

After what has been a couple of hours lying in bed crying silent tears and feeling sorry for myself, I get up and walk into the bathroom. I need to have a shower and I to do damage control on the injuries my father has inflicted on me, the man is clever though he always leaves my face alone he's punched, beaten, burned, whipped and cut every other part of my body but my face is always left alone, so no-one gets suspicious. I slowly get undressed, and then I turn, my back to the large ceiling to floor mirror and hold the hand held mirror in my hand. Looking into the mirror in my hand I see my back is still bleeding freely, the wounds inflicted by my fathers' belt this evening being worse than I had originally thought although the bleeding had calmed down considerably and I know it will eventually stop, it always does.

I look at my clothes and sigh- I'm going to have to put them and my bed linen in the wash. The back is notoriously had to get at, so cleaning my wounds is not going to be an option- instead I get a bandage out to wrap my body after my shower, tomorrow I have gym and I can't bleed through my gym clothes.

I step into the shower and turn it on, I let out an audible gasp when the water touches my back the stinging eventually lessens as the shower progresses, I am very careful not to get soap or shampoo on it and when I step out of the shower I can only feel a faint throb.

I look into the mirror again at my back, my mind starts to wander to earlier this evening and what happened then that has me in pain now. I feel the tears well up in my eyes

"Brooke" I hear my father slur. I freeze, catatonic with fear. When he's been drinking I know I'm in trouble, he always finds a reason real or made up.

"Brookie wherrre are yooooouu?" he practically sings, I keep my kneeling position in front of the couch on the floor and carry on cleaning the ruby red wine stain out the rug carpet, I pray that he doesn't see me.

"I see you Brookie Cookie, are you hiding from me?" I guess that was a wasted prayer. I stand up, I'm aware I'm shaking I just hope he doesn't notice.

"No not hiding" He walks round from behind to where I'm standing, he looks at me and softly strokes my face, then he notices the stain. You'd have to be blind not to notice it, its like crimson red blood on a field of clean white snow- unmissable.

"you stupid bitch" and he slaps my face so hard my head snaps up and I take a step back. I clutch my red cheek tears start to prick my eyes.

"what are you some kind of drunk?" he asks, his words aren't slurred anymore, now they're just full of menace.

"If I am its because I learn from the best" I literally have no idea where that remark came from or why I said it, I just know that now I'm going to get it. Before I even have time to gather my thoughts or try to apologise he's behind me and has grabbed my hair pulling my hair pulling my head so far back I have trouble taking breaths and my tears travel down the sides of my face into my hair.

"I'm not going to have a drunk for a daughter" He whispers into my hair just loud enough for me to hear. Then suddenly he pushes me and I fall face forward onto the floor my body making a dull thud as it fits the hard wooden floor. I struggle as I try to get up but there's a weight on me holding me down making it hard for me to breathe and I realise my father is sitting on top of me, making an escape is impossible. I hear the sound of his belt being whipped off and I feel my shirt being pushed up. I squeeze my eyes tight and pray for it to be over soon.

While gently drying myself I start to wander when it started getting worse? At first it was punching and kicking a few times a week, now it was at least once a day and the violence had grown to where he put permanent scars on my body. At least I haven't been hospitalised. Yet.

I had even started drinking to numb the emotional pain my mind was being put through, its probably not the best considering that alcohol is the cause of all my fathers problems but its my only escape and I need it. I finish placing the bandage around my torso and I put my payjamas on, throwing the clothes I wore that day and my bed linen in my washing basket.

I hurry down the corridor to get to the linen closet. On the way back my dad comes out his bedroom as I walk past I stop in my tracks and he looks at me for a minute. I know my eyes are filled with fear and dread, frightened at what his next move might be. Instead he pulls me into his arms and kisses my head, I flinch slightly at the pressure he's putting on my bruised and bleeding back and slightly because I don't like being touched by this man.

"I love you Brookie, soo soo much, and I'm so sorry I just get so mad you know?" Tears well in my eyes and I drop what I'm holding and I hug him back before letting go and turning to my room,

As I lie in bed hugging my teddy as if my life depended on it i whisper softly to myself 'I wish you would show it, show" before I slowly cry myself to sleep.

a/n: this is my first piece of written for OTH, and the first thing I've put up, so be kind =P
I'd love to hear everyone's opinions. What you want/ think should happen and what you actually think of the chapter.
So review and tell me if you think its any good and whether or not I should carry on with it.