warning: sorry if anything she says offends you, its just the way i portray her also the themes are for ADULTS or at least if your under the age of 14\15 it wouldn't be advisable for you to read it... please R&R anyway.

When I woke up in the morning the bastard was gone. Fleeing from the scene of the crime like the coward he was. I wasn't sure how I got the courage to stand but I eventually did, a flash of pain in my abdomen had me collapsed on the floor within seconds. If I caught him he was dead, whether by machine gun or hand I didn't mind.

I dragged myself up and towards the direction of my bathroom. When I was near enough to see through the haze in my eyes and the blood that was smeared across my face, I saw a crack of a fist imprint in the corner of the door alerting me to the fact that it had been a forced entry even if I had stepped out to greet him. That would do well in court.

I finally made me way through to my mirror, leaning heavily on the walls and any surface I passed. The pane of glass, unlike the one in my bedroom, was not smashed and I took this opportunity to check myself for damage. There was plenty of damage to go around though.

My dressing gown was torn to shreds along with any dignity I had, had before the party. My hair was sticky from a mixture of sweat, blood and tears and as I reached my hand up to the throbing ache on the side of my head, I quickly drew it back as a handful of cold, dried blood covered my arm. If anything the pain in my head increased and I stumbled backwards gazing at myself in horror as my reflection looked back at me from the mirror.

My mascara was smudged on my face, mixing with the blood and my cheeks and eyes were puffy from the tears. My lips were bruised and the foundation on my cheeks had been rubbed off forcefully resulting in my cheeks being bright red from the raw pain of them. My jaw already had a bruise forming from the corner of my mouth to just underneath my ear and I knew that it would be even worse later when the ful extent of the pain set in. As I tried to fix my eye makeup I gazed at my bruised and bloody arms before rushing forward to the sink and turning on the water. Waiting for it to be scalding, I plunged my hands in and splashed the roasting water onto my face.

It stinged against my eyes and small cuts on my cheeks but at least the makeup was gone for the most part. I scrubbed at my arms and face and in the end, my arms were raw from the sheer pressure that I was using to try and remove any evidenece of what had happened in the last 24 hours. talking a steady breathe as I placed both my hands on the sides of the sink I gazed into the sink, gathering up the courage to leave the safe haven of the bathroom.

After stumbling through the mess in my bedroom and cutting my foot on a shard of glass by accident I limped my way down the stairs, talking in ragged breathes as the pain in my foot registered with my system. On my way down the stairs I glanced at the grandfather clock my father had goten in Tibet to find out it was just after 5 o clock: I had been unconscious for 13 hours. Hobbling through the mess of plates, empty bottles and cans of beer and decorations I took a great shuddering breathe as I landed on the couch. Curling up in a ball I began to rock back and forth evaluating the mess before my eyes. It didn't matter anymore though.

Closing my eyes, flashes of the night previous shot before my eyes like lightning: The terror and fear that washed over me. The sharp pain from the shard of glass as it cut through the thin flesh of my scalp, and the warmth as the blood departed from my body. I was lucky that the cut hadn't seemed too deep, I knew from personal experience that head wounds always bled the most.

I heard clattering in the kitchen and a nasally laugh as a bicker broke out on the television screen in the kitchen\lounge area. Staggering up and swearing softly underneath my breath with the sharp pain that flashed in my head at the sudden movement of my limbs after staying curled up in a ball for so long. My muscles were still stiff as I attempted to make my way for the kitchen counter.

Pamela was laughing at the top of her voice as she looked on with a bottle of Chardonnay from my fathers personal stash in our wine cellar, one that she wan't supposed to know anything about but would probably blame its disappearance on me. She was watching some hideous surgeons sitcom as two doctors argued over the fact that a patient had woken up during a life and death procedure and her laughing as the patient looked on with his stomach slit open and onlookers in the operation screaming with horror.

Her short black hair bobbed up and down as her laugh rang out through the house alerting me to the fact that we were definitely alone: She must have cleared everyone out after she couldn't get laid last night. As her eyes flickered past my cowering figure that was shrouded in the darkness of the corner that had no light glinting in it.

"about time Isabella! I thought you were going to stay asleep all day you lazy whore. what are you shaking about you fool? cop on and go clean up the mess before your father comes back tomorrow." I cowered deeper in the shadows as her voice sounded extra sharp in the aftermath of what had happened to me mentally and physically in the past 14 hours.

"stop whimpering you lazy lug, get your fat ass out of the corner and clean up the mess. I thought you said your friends were going to clean it for you? What your speechless? Ha, never thought i'd see the day when Isabella 'The Bitch' would actually be stuck for a sarcastic remark." She leaned forward in the arm chair before groaning as she pulled herself and staggered from the full force of the hang over that she had attained from two days constant partying. As her arms flayed before finally finding perch on the corner of the armrest. As she staggered forward I whimpered and withdrew even further in the corner which resulted in a flash of her eyes and the bottle of vintage chardonnay smashing as she attempted to reach me.

"Now look what you made me do,you little bitch! I want you to get down on your hands and knees and clean this mess even if it means licking up the the glass as well as the wine!" She screeched. I flinched as my heart beat sped up out of fear and my gasps of breathe became even more labored as I backed up and my back pressed against the marble surface of the counter sharply, resulting in my drawing in a sharp gasp of breathe at the pain in my ribs from where there must be bruising as a result of what happened.

"Well." She hissed "Are you going to listen to me or am I going to have to fucking force you, you bitch." Her hands were curled up in fists by this point and a shudder ran through me as I realized that she meant to carry out her threat. My hands scrapped behind my back as I tried to reach out for someway to protect myself. A towel even to blind her, I didn't care what just something, anything.

As she drew nearer I whimpered and she laughed at me cowardice as she stumble forward, with her hand already drawn back, ready to strike. My hand scrapped against something wet and cold before grasping it and throwing it in the direction of her face: That only angered her more. She rushed forward now, still wobbling a bit due to the amount of alcohol she had consumed, as my eyes and hands searched behind me for something more to delay her at least while I could hear her sharp breathes coming from her mouth.

My gaze landed on the sharp edge of one of the kitchen knifes and before she had taken two steps closer to me I was waving it in her direction with a manic look in my eye. She slightly staggered before smirking at me, not in the least bit alarmed that I was waving a knife at her. "Do you really think that wiould do me any harm Isabella?" she sniggered, inching forwards slowly. "Don't make me fucking use it against you Pamela. I will if i have to" My voice broke on the last few lines as I drew in a shaky breathe to steady myself ad try to keep my emotions underway.

She laughed in a deep voice that seemed to echo past my shoulder and into the hallway and I prayed that if there really was a God or some other fucked up religion that I was forced to believe in by my mother, that it would come to some use and give me the courage to actually use the weapon if necassary.

"Don't you come any fucking nearer" I attempted to screech with a bit of command in my voice but it only came out as a strained whisper, as my voice was hoarse from my ordeal and not having drank anything but booze for the last 2 days. My throat was raw from the effort M put into warning her. I just hoped for her sake that she followed the fucking rules. I had enough pain in the last 24 hours than in the rest of my whole life: She was not going to make it any worse for me. if she touched me I would fight back.

All of a sudden everything started to rush forward as if there had been a time lurch. Pamela lurched forward and I braced myself against the fist that I knew would strike me within seconds, but before that was to occur her eyes widened as her 5 inch high heel slided underneath her as the cloth I had just moments ago thrown at her face, obscured her path and as she slided towards me, the grip she had managed to sustain even through her drunken haze gave up and she smashed her head against the marble worktop just inches away from where my right hand was located.

I drew in a sharp gasp as blood started pumping from a deep gash in her head that extended from her left ear to the top right corner of her forehead. Blood splashed on my gown as I attempted to cower away from her, the sight of all that blood overwhelming me until I took flight and ran up to my bedroom leaving Pamela with beseeching eyes behind me as she attempted to rise up only to fall backwards again as blood continued to spread through the kitchen floor.

It still hurt to walk but I eventually crawled my way up to my bedroom before locking the door and shoving every bit of furniture I could manage, against the bathroom door, barricading myself in. No one could get me now. James or Pamela. They didn't matter, they caused pain. They deserved to die. I didn't kill her, she killed herself. She was drunk, that was her downfall. Whispers spread through my head, imagining what people would say, what they thought. I didn't care what they thought, I screamed to myself in my head. They were wrong, they'll hurt me, they'll try to put me away. Lock me up, blame it on me. She killed herself, yes she killed herself, maybe she could have killed James too.

'They were in it together' my head whispered. They tried to kill you then they killed themselves. Yes now they're dead. Its fine your safe. But what about everyone else. Whispers, all the looks. Flashes going through my head. Glass shattering, blood seeping into my pillowcase as James ravished my body. The darkness of the ceiling. Deep laboured breathes, tortured, agony. I didn't want to live anymore...

Crawling my way up, leaning against the wall heavily I repeated the stance of putting both my hands on both sides of the sink, breathing deeply. New tears streaked from my eyes now. I was happy. She was dead. I was afraid. The people, the men they could get me just like James. They'll want me too. They'll take me away from everything, they'll kill me. My breathes developed in sharp bursts as I gasped for air in my lungs. I couldn't breathe. I was going under, pain everywhere, scars all over.

I could feel him as my mind wouldn't stop replaying what had happened, maybe this was what going into shock was like, his hands pulled the gown, loosening it, tearing, shredding. His hand muffled me from speaking. I couldn't react. I was there in mind but not in body. I couldn't move. I couldn't fell anything except terror. Gasping as more tears shed down my face I gazed into the mirror in disgust seeing his face leering at me from within.

As the anger built up I screamed as I threw my fist forward into the glasses reflection, crashing it into a million pieces. I retracted my bloody knuckle, satisfied that the face had disappeared. He wasn't here. I made sure of that. As more blood pumped from my hand I smiled in grim satisfaction before allowing a whimper to escape my lips. Pain.

So much Pain...

Trailing my body slowly down the wall I curled up with my hand tucked into my chest, keeping the pressure on it. So much pain and darkness, too much... Faces in my mind, James, Pamela, my mother and then the man I considered to be my father yet whom I rarely saw. Turning, agony, swimming through my mind. Crying as rivulets of salty tears left me eyes I cried out all the anguish that had been building in my heart for the past 17 years... So much agony, curled up in a ball I had no choice but to remember...

wow, that was probably the most depressing thing I ever wrote before. In case you're wondering Bella went into shock at the end and is convince that Pamela and James were working together to plan her demise. she also thinks everyones after her. it sometimes happens after an ordeal like that although strangely i found that it was easy enough to get into character as the words just poured onto the pages. remember that i warned it wasn't going to be pleasant... please review for more! couldn't wait to get this chapter out so it went un-beta'd. sorry for grammar mistakes. we don't have spell check. REVIEW!

xoxo

Ella-Ava