Prologue

My name is Isabella Marie Swan and I'm pregnant.

I don't want a congratulations and 'whose the father' questions, cause seriously this child wasn't conceived the natural loving way and I had no idea who the father was - I suppose he was some sick twisted fuck whose locked in prison and on his way to death row for what he did to me. He deserves it.

That man was a destroyer, a monster. He degraded woman, hurt them, because nothing else could satisfy him sexually - he was the reason I am the way I am six months after the violation of my person. I can't look anyone in the eyes, afraid it will be his eyes I see staring back at me mockingly, cruelly dangling my life in front of me wishing me to bite and fall into his trap once again. I don't let anyone touch me, for fear it will be his hands upon my bruises, they've faded, it was the memories of them being there that remained. I miss hugs, I wanted a stupid hug. To feel love instead of panic. To feel charished and beautiful.

Because I feel ugly, dirty.

I remember that night, it was burned into my memories - the pain, shame, sorrow, anger, helplessness. I hadn't been strong enough to fight back, he had been a good couple heads taller then me, with a hulking frame. He haunted my nightmares, robbed me of my sleep. I don't even bother looking into the mirror anymore knowing what I'd look like in the morning was enough - tangled rats nest, bloodshot eyes (makes me look like I contracted pink eye), dark bags resting beneath tired haunted eyes. I was a mess, I was falling apart and sometimes I wanted to blame it on my unborn child.

But it wasn't his/her's fault; It was mine for not being strong enough and it was his for his sick pleasure - for entertainment. she/he never did anything to deserve my anger and hatred, my sorrow. I didn't abort it, because I couldn't just end his/her life; he/she deserved a chance to live, become a wonderful person. Because no doubt he/she will be great - after all I was the mother and I would be raising him/her.

My mother never took the news well about me being pregnant - did she know the cause? No. She thought I had a one night stand (technically it was), she lectured me about the importance of condoms (I already know this, they teach it every year for two days in PE), and then asked me about the father. I told her I didn't know who it was - she called me a slut.

They kicked me out of the house, apparently I wasn't Renee and Phil's daughter anymore. Phil wasn't my biological father, he's my pro playing baseball step-father. I think my real father had a better job - he was the Chief of Police up at Forks, Washington. His name was Charlie, he never married again after my mother, no idea why. He was a fantastic, albeit awkward guy. I was going to live with him.

So how many people know that I was pregnant? Everyone.

How many people knew I was violated and raped which concieved this innocent child growing within me? Absolutely no one.

I was alone in this knowledge, I wanted to cry and vent. Life was cruel and all I wanted was a shoulder to cry on and someone I can tell my darkest secrets to. I wanted unconditional love.

But who could ever love a pregnant rape victim whose on the verge of an emotional collapse...?