I was actually going to wait a while before I started this story so that I could finish up 'Little Problem' first (Only two more chapters left) but I just loved the idea so much that I just HAD to at least get the first chapter up. So I hope you enjoy!

Most of the story is in Edward's POV

Prologue

I didn't know why they hated me, they just did. No matter how hard I tried to please them, no matter how hard I tried to be good, they were always yelling at me and hitting me. Though I guess I shouldn't say they. My mommy is only mean to me when daddy was home. She didn't want to hurt me, she only did it because daddy said he would kill me if she tried anything and didn't do what he said. But when daddy left for work she would hug me and cry while she apologized for yelling at me and slapping me. Then she would make up for it by doing all the chores that daddy had made for me and then playing games with me. I would help with the chores of course, not only because I wanted to, but because we had to make sure that it looked like a five-year old did them. But sadly, mommy didn't always get to help me since she was the one that worked and provided for the family. Daddy's had more jobs than I can count! He's always getting fired because he's always showing up to work drunk, so I was home alone with him a lot. He would either sleep or stay in the living room watching TV while I did all the cleaning. And every day, I would crawl up to my room at almost five in the morning, covered head to toe in bruises and cuts (and I would have the occasional broken bone) and fall asleep right on the floor, not even making it to the pile of blankets and a pillow on the floor that I called a bed. Mommy and daddy never lifted a finger when daddy was home, except for when it came to cooking. But that would end pretty soon, 'cause daddy said that I needed to learn to 'lift my weight' around the house. Because apparently doing all the chores around the house almost everyday wasn't 'lifting my weight'!

There was a boy next door, Eric Yorkie, who was REALLY smart even though he was my age. He learned how to read when he was four and he's already writing at a second grade level! Daddy was mad about that. He wanted to be able to brag about his son, but he could never come up with anything about me to brag about. So when I was four, he forced me to be home-schooled so that I could learn faster. Everyday when I woke up the first thing I was to do was get out my books and index cards and practice writing and sounding out each of the words. Surprisingly, I was a fast learner. I learned the alphabet in just a few days, and I was reading in a little less than half a year. I started writing really good not long after that. I was okay at math, but it still wasn't my best subject. Now, a little more than a year later, I can read at a fifth grade level and write at a third grade. Math still wasn't my best. I knew lots of big words and new the meanings to most of them. But I could never sound smart in front of daddy. I would get hit if I did. I could only use big words in front of the neighbors, and even then I could only do it when spoken to. Eric didn't like me because I was a faster learner than him. And that really sucked because I was very short for my age and Eric took advantage of that. Any chance he got, he would push me. He even pushed me down the stairs once! But even then I didn't cry from the pain. I'd been living with it for so long that I didn't see the point in crying.

I was always very quiet and shy, and that was something mommy loved about me. She said that my shyness is what made me so sweet and cute. I honestly didn't see what was cute about me. My oddly bronze colored hair was always messy and could never be tamed, I was white as a sheep, I had black circles under my dark green eyes, and I was really skinny because daddy only gave me some bread and cheese once a day, that was it. When mommy was around, she brought me up a sandwich and some chips late at night when daddy was fast asleep. I had to brush my teeth right away after I was done so that daddy wouldn't smell the food on my breath or see anything in between my teeth.

I missed mommy. She was the only person that gave me hope. She was the only one who cared. Mommy passed a way a few months ago. I don't know how, but she got really sick and couldn't get better. Ever since then things with daddy got worse. He would beat me every day just for the heck of it and didn't stop until I was bleeding. He slapped me if I didn't do something fast enough. And he's made me go weeks without any food. Daddy even counted how much bread and apples and stuff we had before he went to bed and then counted again in the morning to make sure that I hadn't taken any food. I was punched awake every morning and then forced to do chores for the rest of the day, even the chores that I'd already done. I hated him, I hated my life!

My name is Edward Anthony Mason. I'm five years old and I just want to die.

Chapter one

SLAP! "GET UP!" Daddy snarled, grabbing my messy hair and pulling me to my feet. I whimpered but followed him out of my room, well, limped thanks to my busted ankle. Once we were downstairs daddy shoved a piece of paper at my chest, "These had better be done by the time I get back. Got it, boy?" he growled, gripping my tiny arm with bruising force.

I nodded, "Yes sir." I said in a small voice. Daddy huffed, slapping me across the face as he turned on his heels and stomped out the door. I stood there for a while, holding my stinging cheek before I finally glanced at the list,

Sweep the floors

Mop the floors

Wash the dishes

Clean the counter tops

Dust the house

Vacuum the living room

Do the laundry

Mow the yard

Clean the windows

And the list went on and on and on. I groaned and got out the broom, starting on the sweeping...

TWILIGHT-TWILIGHT

It was almost eight at night when daddy came stumbling in, and I was still working on the last chore on my list. I gasped softly and scrubbed the tiles of the bathroom wall faster and harder until my hand started hurting. I emptied the bucket in the sink and put it and the scrubbing-brush under the sink, rushing down the stairs and then standing up straight as daddy came in the living room. He stood at the entrance, his hard eyes scanning the room. I felt my palms get wet with sweat as fear suddenly consumed me. What if I forgot something? What if I didn't do something right? I already got a really bad beating last night for dropping one of the glass plates, I didn't want another one! I waited anxiously as my daddy checked the house, making sure that everything was spic and span.

He grunted, a sign that everything was in order and he was pleased, "Get up to your room and get studying. After you're done make yourself presentable and come down here. The Newtons are coming over tonight." he said, his voice full of authority and annoyance.

"Yes sir."

He dismissed me and I hurried to my room, getting out my books...

I glared at my reflection in the mirror, trying for the fifth time to fix my unruly hair. Sighing in defeat I smoothed out my nicest sweater and tightened the belt on my jeans since they were starting to fall off again. None of my clothes fit me anymore because of all the weight I lost after mommy died, they were all too baggy on me. I rubbed my tired eyes and went downstairs where daddy was waiting for me. Daddy was wearing a pair of nice black pants and a matching black jacket overlapping a white shirt. Although his hair looked like mine when he rolled out of bed daddy could still get his to look how he wanted it, and tonight he had it slicked back with some hair-gel. Daddy looked me up and down and down, scowling, "That's it? That's what you call nice clothing?" he growled. I gulped, "I-I'm sorry daddy, I was going to wear my white buttoned shirt but it's too big for me." I stuttered, shaking. Don't hit me, don't hit me, don't hit me...

I waited for the slap but it never came. Daddy was instead looking out the window where headlights could be seen coming up our driveway, "Get ready to open the door." he hissed, leaving to the kitchen. I nodded and waited patiently until the doorbell rang to reach for the knob and open the front door. Mr. and Mrs. Newton stood side by side, smiling, with their son Mike in front of them, arms crossed. Mike was just about the same age as me but just like the other few kids that I knew, he hated me.

"Hello Edward. How are you?" Mrs. Newton asked me as I beckoned her and the Newton men in. I smiled, "I'm fine thank you. And you?" I asked politely, taking their coats and hanging them on the rack we kept by the door. Daddy came in just then with three cups of coffee and two cups of cocoa, "Hello Mr. Newton, you're looking well." he said, brown-nosing his possible boss-to-be. I guess Mr. Newton was the boss of some car repair shop and heard about how good my daddy was with cars. Aside from our looks that was the only thing daddy and I had in common, we both loved cars. On the rare days I would finish my chores early I would take out any books or magazines we had on cars and flip through them until I had to go to bed.

Daddy and Mr. Newton sat down and talked for a while until Mr. Newton turned to me, "So Edward, your dad tells me that you like cars too. Do you have a favorite?" he grinned at me. I sipped from my cocoa and nodded, "Yes sir, I really like the Honda CR-V, but I would say that my most favorite is the Volvo S60." I said, practically bouncing in my seat at the thought of being older and having my very own Volvo, maybe in blue or silver! Mr. Newton chuckled, "You really know your cars. Maybe when you're older you can come work for me in my shop." "That would be awesome!" I whooped. Earlier, just before I started getting dressed, daddy came in my room and told me to be as smart and cute as I could be so that if Mr. Newton was hesitant about giving him the job then Mrs. Newton would make him give daddy the job so that he could support me. Like that would ever happen.

I drank my cocoa again, purposely giving myself a chocolate mustache. Mrs. Newton giggled, "You are just the cutest little thing! I could squish you!" she squealed, handing me a napkin. Mommy wasn't the only one who thought I was cute. Due to my small size, big eyes, and shyness almost every woman on our street thought I was adorable, and daddy used that to his advantage. More than once daddy has brought me with him to the store and looked in every isle for a pretty lady that wasn't wearing a wedding ring and had me go up to something and beg him to buy it, but in a cute way, not an annoying one. Then I would wake up in the morning and go downstairs to see the lady from the store in our kitchen, wearing one of daddy's big shirts and a pair of short shorts (and sometimes they were in their undies!) Then I wouldn't ever see them again.

Mike huffed next to me and licked away his own mustache, pouting and glaring at me out of the corner of his eye. I shrunk, looking down at my cup. Daddy chuckled and ruffled my hair, "Yep. That's my boy! Good looks just like his dad." he grinned proudly, though I could see the disgust in his eyes at calling me 'his boy' and reminding himself that he was my dad. Tears welled up in my eyes but I blinked them away before anyone noticed.

And that's how the night went on. Daddy sucking up to Mr. Newton, Mr. Newton discussing cars, Mike pouting, me being cute, and Mrs. Newton coddling me. I was terrified when it was time for the Newtons to leave. Was daddy going to get stressed out and hit me? I gulped lightly as the Newtons put on their coats and said their goodbyes, Mrs. Newton giving me a little hug before they left.

The second the headlights of their car disappeared from the driveway daddy seized me by the hair and pushed me up against the wall, bending down to hiss in my face, "You better hope to hell that I get this job." he seethed, yanking strands of hair from my head. I whimpered, crying out when he punched me square in the stomach. He let me drop to ground and started kicking me, my back slamming into the wall with every blow.

"Why can't he just kill me already?"

I just HAD to right this!