Prologue

She wore a long-sleeved grey cardigan. Paired with jeans, a plain tee, and converse, she looked like any other girl. But it was August. The sleeves were necessary. They hid the bruises. On the outside, she was Kimberly Anne Crawford. Beautiful and smart, yet solitary and silent. But on the inside, she was no more than a small child, afraid of what was going on and what could come from it. The seventeen year old has a troubling life. But it wasn't always so. When she was little, the girls father would take her for ice cream, play games with her, just like any other seven year olds dad would. Then, the accident happened.

Chapter One

I woke up to sound of shouting. It was just like any other morning. I dragged myself out of the rickety bed I'd had since I was nine and went to the bathroom to get ready. In my short sleeved tank and shorts I slept in, I looked broken. Bruises littered my arms, and I remembered how I got each and every one of them. But the one who inflicted them more than likely didn't.

Where my skin wasn't black or blue, it was a ghostly white. Pale as the moon, my best and only friend, Grace, called it. Pasty is what Liz called it. Liz was, technically, my mother. But not really. The pale skin of my face was framed by long, softly curled, blonde hair. It fell over my right eye naturally, and came halfway down my back. My eyes were my best feature, I think. They were a deep hazel, framed by long thick lashes. Liz calls the color boring, but I don't think so. They were my father's eyes. I walk down stairs to find Liz yelling at my four year old half-sister, Anna. She was crying.

"Liz! Why are you yelling at her?!" I shouted angrily. Liz's live-in boyfriend, Keith, had already left for who knows where.

"The little brat wanted me to walk her to school. Do you know how busy I am, Kim? Deal with her!" She screamed and left the house.

I walked over to my little sister, one of the few things I care about and consoled her.

"A-All I w-want-ted was h-her t-t-to w-walk me t-to sch-school!" the small girl sobbed. "A-All the o-other m-m-mommies d-do!"

"Shh...it's ok Annie, I'll walk you to school, like I do every day."

"I-I know, but the o-other g-girls have mommies!"

"True, but you aren't the other girls. You are special. Now lets get you ready for Pre-K. Okay?"

"O-Okay."

I got her washed up and made her toast for breakfast. I took after my father, but Anne and I had different fathers. She took after Liz, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I had practically raised her on my own, so her behavior is similar to mine, or as similar as it can be, her being four. Her short, red, stick straight hair was adorable in her trademark pigtails, and her bright green eyes wrapped you around her finger. Unless you were Liz or Keith. Neither of them found Annie remotely adorable, constantly calling her a nuisance. I didn't rank much higher among them.

When my dad was alive, I was his baby girl. We did everything together, and back then, Liz was close to being a suitable mother. Then there was the accident. I was nine when it happened. My dad and I were driving home from my karate tournament. We were driving on main when a semi came barreling from the opposite direction. My father died almost instantly. In the back seat, I only received minor cuts and injuries, along with a small scar I kept covered by my side swept bangs. I was never the same. I distanced myself from my friends, and stuck to myself, creating thick walls to protect myself. Then in ninth grade, I met my only friend, Grace, who somehow squeezed through a crack in the dense walls.

After my father's death, Liz was a wreck. She started drinking constantly, and quickly became an alcoholic. Soon after came Keith. She met him about five years ago, and had Anne a year after that. Two years ago he became abusive. An alcoholic, like my mother, he was often in a drunken slur. Hot-tempered, he came home most nights drunk and took out whatever had bothered him earlier that day on me. All the bruises, all the scars, they were all reminders of the monster under my bed. Keith.

I walked Annie over to Seaford Elementary School, and dropped her off at the entrance. As I was waving goodbye, Gwen pulled up beside me in her baby blue VW Bug, which she had gotten as a sweet sixteen present last year.

"Bonjour, Kim. Want a lift?" she asked, smiling from the front seat.

"Nope. I'd much rather walk the five miles from the elementary school to the high school." I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Gee. No need to be so rude!" she teased "Hop in."

We drove to school in silence, as we so often did. But it wasn't the kind of loud, awkward silence that occurred when one couldn't think of anything to talk about, but the comfortable silence that came with two people who already know all there is to know about each other. When we pulled into the parking lot at Seaford High, Grace finally spoke.

"What's going on with Keith and Liz?" she said. She knew about what they did to me, and she understood the need for confidentiality.

"The usual. Keith had left when I got downstairs, but Liz was screaming at Annie."

"Why?" she asked.

"Well, Anne wanted her to walk her to school that morning, because that is what all the 'other mommies' do."

"Awww...poor Anne. Do you to want to stay with us this weekend?" she asked. Anne and I stayed at Grace's almost every weekend, just to get away from home. Keith and Liz don't really notice, and if they do, they don't seem to really care.

"Yeah, thanks." I said as we walked toward the school, having just now found a parking spot. On weekends, the school parking lot was similar to a barren dessert, but on any given weekday, it was as dense as the thickest forest. We made our way towards first period, which was AP English III with Mr. Martin. We took our assigned seats and began the lesson for today. We were reviewing The Count of Monte Cristo for a test we had on Monday. When we were filling out the review sheets, a piece of folded up paper landed on my desk. I unfolded it and read the words scrawled in a small, neat script. Then I replied and we started a small conversation when we were supposed to be answering questions on Chapters fifteen through twenty. Oh well. (A/N Grace, Kim)

Mr. M boring you yet? -G

Naturally. You? Because I, for one, have already read the entire book, and the review is first grade material anyways. -Kim

You're so smart! I wish I were a teen Einstein...but yeah, I'm really bored too. Did you study for the test in Trig next hour? -G

No! I forgot :(. Is your mom cool with me and Anne staying with you this weekend? -Kim

Always! You know she thinks of you as her other daughter! -G

This continued until the bell rang twenty minutes later. I sighed. One class down, six to go. Thankfully, it was Friday and I'd get to go to Grace's for the weekend as opposed to going home to Liz and Keith...I shuddered as I remembered his stinging blows from last night.

Flashback

I walked through the front door, silent as if hoping to escape the upcoming onslaught of pain. Keith comes in, stumbling in a drunken slur. I open my mouth to talk, but he cuts me off with a slap to the face. It stings, leaving a red, hand shaped mark across my cheek.

"Where have you been?!" He shouts, drunkenly.

"I-I was at school," I say truthfully, "studying."

"You expect me to believe that?" he says, angry, "I mean, look at this dump. Get home straight after school gets out and get to work! Do you hear me? Can you understand, you selfish little twit?!"

He speaks forcefully, slurring the words and stumbling around. He hits me, once, twice, three times. All in a different place on my already bruised arm. He passes out from the alcohol and I go to my room. I am sad, but I don't cry. I haven't since the first time he hit me. It only proves how weak I am, and I have to be strong. For those I care about. Anne. Grace. And I have to be strong for myself, to prove I can make it through. I mustn't cry.

I cringe. I sit through my morning classes, all of them barely registering in my mind. AP English III. AP Trigonometry. AP European History. AP French III. Finally the bell rings for lunch. I walk to the cafeteria, grateful for the opportunity to talk to Gwen about Liz and Keith. Plus, its often the only meal I get a day. I use the piece of bread I'm permitted every morning on Annie, and I'm often not allowed dinner, and any scraps I get go to Anne as well.

Lunch that day was hamburgers and fries. From my living conditions and the fact that all the money in the house goes towards food for Liz and Keith or drugs and alcohol (whether it be from a bar or the liquor store), Anne and I are two of the four kids in the entire district who qualify for free lunches.

After getting my lunch, I start walking towards the library. That's where Grace and I eat, considering we're both high school outcasts. I sighed. Grace used to have other friends before she met me. They all thought I was 'lame' and ditched Grace when she started to hang out with me. I've always felt guilty about that. Although in retrospect, they probably weren't incredible friends if they ditched her so easily...still. I'm walking through the halls when I walk into a brick wall. Or what felt like one. My lunch went flying as I hit the floor. I look up into the sneering face of Frank. He was a senior, one year older than me. He, like the majority of the schools seniors, juniors, and a few high ranked sophomores, had been one of my tormentors through the year.

"What do we have here...little Kimmy Crawford, off to the library." he taunted.

I stayed silent. Through the years, I had learned that sticking up for yourself only got you a black eye. The majority of the guys who tortured me never dared hit a girl - they only made fun of me. The rest, like Brian, stuck to minor hits and kicks. But the girls...lets just say they have no qualms about hurting me. But compared to Keith, their threats and actions didn't affect me as much as they hope they will. Maybe that's why I'm so fun to torture. To see who can get me to break first. Little did they know how hard that would be to do.

"What's wrong, Kim? Cat got your tongue?"

His groupies laughed. Frank never seemed to go far without his small army of karate kids and cheerleaders. Briefly, I wonder what may happen if I simply get up and continue to the library. After picking up and disposing of my fallen lunch, of course. For lack of a better option, I decide to try it. I gather the pieces of my food and throw it away. The trash can is in the opposite direction of the library. Once I'm done with that, I walk back in the direction of the library, which is, unfortunately, in the direction of Frank and his friends.

"Awww...leaving so soon, Kimmy?" Frank cooed. His friends laugh as he sticks out a leg and trips me, sprawling me back onto the ground. "I didn't think so." he says.

"What do you want, Frank?" I say after regaining my breath. The sudden contact with the cold, hard ground had knocked the wind out of me.

"Nothing, really. Just having a little fun." he laughed.

"Hey! Leave her alone." Came an unfamiliar voice. Confused, I sat up and looked behind me to see an evidently angry boy walking towards us at a quick pace.

"Who do you think you are?" asked Frank, angered at the boy who had interrupted his 'fun'.

"Jack Anderson, and who do I have the displeasure of speaking to this afternoon?"

"Listen you little-" he started before Donna, one of the cheerleaders, stepped in.

"Calm down, Frank. Mr. Gregory is on hall way patrol and could come by any second now." she said.

"Whatever." he spat out, bitterly. "I'll deal with you later, Jack." he said his name like the very sound of it tasted foul on his tongue, his voice dripping with venom.

He walked away, leaving me and Jack alone in the otherwise barren hall.

"Are you okay?" he said it softly, but the sound of his voice still startled me and I jumped a bit.

"I've been worse." I said, barely a whisper.

"My names Jack."

Jack. I liked it.

"Kim." I said, louder this time. "Why did you help me?"

He shrugged. "I'm always eager to help a pretty damsel in distress."

"I am not a damsel in distress." I said forcefully "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I could sure tell by the way they had you cornered over there." he replied.

This boy, Jack, was starting to irritate me. His cocky smirk was replaced by a frustrated expression, his brows knit together in concern. His eyes...those are what bugged me the most. Normally I can get a read on people through their eyes, but his were clouded and unclear to me. The color itself was striking, a warm deep chocolate, staring into my own hazel ones. He had thick lashes that girls would be jealous of and dark brown, longish (for a boy), wavy hair. Most of the time I don't notice a guy's features so closely, so it unhinged me that I had paid so much attention to this boy whom I'd just met, and already wasn't fond of.

"Look, Kim, right? I wasn't trying to insult you. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I was just trying to help, okay?"

"Well, thanks for that, but it wasn't necessary." I said standing up.

"Well, next time, maybe I'll just keep walking." He said to me with a scowl.

"Good luck with that, you seem to have a bit of a hero complex, and this sort of thing is a daily occurrence for me." I say.

His eyes immediately softened and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. Pity was definitely not something I searched for, and if this kid got close to me he could learn about my family, and that could ruin everything. I can see it in my head, little Anne heading off to foster care. I only needed one more year, then I'd turn eighteen and be out of here.

"This happens every day? Are you okay? Why do they do this to you?" He said rapidly, his face showing distinct concern.

"Look, its not a big deal, okay? If you want to have any sort of life at this school, just don't talk to me. You got it? Good." And I quickly walked away before he could say anything else.