**Story does contain themes of abuse

Prologue. Ten Years Earlier

Abby Maitland shut her bedroom door, stripped off her pajamas and checked her body in the mirror.

Unlike most fifteen year old girls, this wasn't a vanity thing, no, she was checking the bruises that covered every inch of visible skin except her hands and face. She sighed and walked over to her closet, pulling out a light blue turtleneck and black jeans, not remembering the last time she'd been able to wear short sleeves or skirts, her father not wanting visible the bruises he left on her.

Last night had been one of the worse in awhile, not helped by the fact her father had been drinking, she'd been ten minutes past curfew. Her mother, probably still passed out somewhere, pretended to be oblivious to the beatings. Abby just felt lucky that her brother Jack, who was four years younger, had been at a friends. Jack was her fathers favorite and rarely sustained any injuries at the hands of him, but sometimes her father's temper got the best of him, and he'd take it out on Jack.

By the time she headed downstairs, she'd decided to skip breakfast and walk to school, having no desire to spend a moment longer with her father than necessary. If not for Jack, she'd have left home a long time ago.

"Abby, is that you?" her father called from the kitchen.

"Nope," she called back, grabbing her bag.

"Abby, come here now, I want to talk to you."

"Good for you," she said, heading for the door.

Too late did she realize she'd left her coat and crossed her arms over her chest, the cold biting at her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. She looked up just as the first snowflakes fell from the sky. Childish as it may have seemed, she couldn't help spinning around arms held out, trying to catch a flake on her tongue. Moments like these came so rarely in her life, the quiet times, the calm times, she soaked them up like the sun in summer.

She'd only just started walking again, rubbing her arms with her hands, when a black sports car, an Evora she thought, pulled up beside her, windows rolled down. When she glanced over she saw a guy with short brown hair, wearing sunglasses, and probably in his early twenties staring at her. He was very good looking, and she couldn't help wondering what he could want with her.

"Where are you heading?" he asked, tilting down his glasses to reveal piercing blue eyes.

"School," she replied, her guard immediately rising.

"Need a ride?" he asked.

She knew how dangerous taking rides from strangers could be, but without her coat she was freezing and the temperature was rapidly dropping. Not to mention she could feel the heater in the car blowing from where she stood, it was very inviting.

"That would be great," she said sliding into the passenger seat. "I'm Abby, by the way."

"Stephen."

As she sat there in the passenger seat of Stephen's car, talking and laughing as she warmed her hands in front of the heater, Abby tried to remember the last time she'd felt so normal. At school, even on the hottest day, she wore long sleeves and long pants. She was considered an outcast, a freak, because she was so quiet and dressed so strangely.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt like a normal fifteen year old girl.

"You're way to young to be broken, you're way too young to fall apart." ~3oh!3