.

All my life I have been told who to be and how to act, who to be friends with and how I should look, but I am tired of it and I want to be different. To be who I used to be before coming to Forks, when I was with my real dad and the boys, before the asshole called Edward; who abuses me and prevents me from calling for help. I was nineteen now and I was miserable. If I somehow manage to get a message to the boys, they could take care of him or me. Hell, even I could have before he stopped me eating so I lost my muscle as it was "not lady-like". I don't care if my gun would not make an effect, my machete would or my trusty lighter and hairspray in a worst case scenario. My phone was crushed by him two months ago when this all started, you know the idiotic possessiveness.

My body was covered in bruises and my ribs were broken from his 'lesson' last night. Currently I was lying in bed with ice packs surrounding the sore and throbbing body. Drifting into the world of slumber, I didn't notice the front door creaking open.

Waking up, the first thing I noticed was body heat, specifically from two bodies at the end of my bed. As my eye opened I shot into a defensive position, my broken hand automatically reaching for my gun – which I had unfortunately moved to hide it from him. My heart hammered in my chest, sounding like a constant rhythm in my already pounding skull. Until I noticed the six foot height and similar features o my best friends, fellow hunters and my secret crush since I was sixteen. Blowing out the breath I didn't know I was holding, I cracked my first real smile in a long time. Because these boys were my saviours, I don't know how they knew (Charlie knows nothing of my involvement with them) but I was so grateful it didn't matter. My eyes spilled tears without my permission and sobs erupted from my chest. Warm arms surrounded me, encasing me in heat as I continued to cry.

"Dean, Sam"