Special

Prologue

A/N Hey there! This is my first fanfic! Just FYI, prologue is going to be a bit... sad. Sorry in advance. Please, please, PLEASE review! Sorry for any grammar mistakes!

I know the prologue seems a bit short, buuuuut its a prologue :P

Note: Under heavy rewriting! The story shall go on, just not right now.

I'll try to update every 4 days (more or less), but no promises.

The sound of smashing windows and screaming wakes me up from my bed.

"Mom? Dad?" I yell out into the darkness, nearly falling off my bed. Silence. I crawl to the door, cracking it open and peering out, shaking in fear. Slowly I push through the doorway, and shuffle through the hallway. The sound of whimpering and pleading stops me short of the living room door.

"Please! No!" I can feel the fear in my mom's voice. A gunshot and a cry fills the air and my eyes grow wide. I burst through the door to find my mother, with her leg in an angle that it shouldn't be in, lying next to a pool of blood with a body soaking in it. My heart clenches at the sight, as someone flees from an open window, running as fast as they can. I fall to my knees, rushing to my mother who is now cradling the body of my father. Tears begin pouring from my eyes as the sound of sirens fill the air.

"Honey, I need you to cooperate," a nurse gently whispers to me. I clutch my blanket as I curl up in a hospital chair. "I need your name," the nurse quietly insists. I vaguely realize that she was talking to me.

My name...

"Elsa," I whisper, "Elsa Bjorman." I feel like withering away, with the harsh hospital lights burning spots into my vision and the smell of antiseptic seeping into my nose.
"W-When can I see my mom and dad?" I slowly ask.

The nurse trying to calm me down freezes, her hand in the middle of patting my shoulder.

"Your mother is doing... Fine," the nurse hesitantly says. My mind is spinning, my throat becomes constricted.

"And... my dad?" I feel like every word is a struggle. Out of the corner of my tear filled eyes I can see the nurse, hands in her lap, unsure of what to say.

"Your father... When he got here he was already in bad condition... Lost so much blood... Little we could do... I'm so sorry," the nurse starts saying so much that I only get about half of what she was trying to tell me. But half is enough to get one thing straight.

"So he's... Dead..." I didn't think I could whisper any softer. The nurse places her hand over my shoulder as I begin to weep again.

"I'm so sorry..." she says, "Would... Would you like to see your mother?"

I nod my head, trying my hardest to stop the tears. The nurse guides me through the seemingly endless hallways of the hospital, past speeding doctors and trays of medical equipment.

"This is the room," the nurse points toward the door that I hardly noticed until now.

"Thank you," I say, hand on the doorknob.

"Good luck," the nurse says, before being dragged away by a doctor.

Good luck?

I slowly open the door, unsure of what sight will greet me inside. Soft lights illuminated the room, the sound of a television filling the room.

"Mom?" I whisper into the room as i shut the door. Suddenly the lights seem so bright and the tv quiet as my mom sits up and gives me one of the most accusing glares I've ever gotten, brown eyes piercing my soul. Her dirty blonde hair was matted with sweat, tears, and a few specks of blood.

And now I realize why the nurse had wished me luck.

"This is your fault," she harshly says, her voice nearly a scream. Our relationship was never the best. I knew she loved my father, which was probably one of the few reasons she tolerated me.

"What?" I say in confusion, with the loudest voice I've had in the hospital that night.

"You disabled the alarm systems. You left the windows unlocked. You are the reason why he is dead!" My mother's eyes have gone wild with grief and anger. My mind is reeling from the psychological battering. I suddenly remember the beeping of the unlocked alarm system, and the clicking of a window as I lean out to catch a glimpse of the glorious sunset.

I did this almost every weekend, but now I realize that in my disappointment I had done everything that my mother had just accused me of. I choke back another sob as my mother stares daggers into me.

"Now you see," she sneers.

"Mom- I-" I try in vane to appeal to her.

"Shut up!" She yells at me, "Get out of my sight!"

I flee the room in tears.

In the years after the accident, my mother turns from a strict but compassionate person into a shadow of her former self. Always drinking and breaking things. Accusations turn into insults, insults turn into smacks, smacks turn into beatings. Any contact between us would be physical. I no longer recognize who she is.

"You think that's good?" She says, as I try to proudly present my straight B grades from my first year in middle school, "Those grades should be better."

"But mom-" I begin.

"I don't need your backtalk!" She yells as she smacks me for the tenth time that week. "What makes you think these grades are even REMOTELY good?" She screams, "What makes you think that these grades make you special?"

Angrily she begins to pull my ear, bringing me to her room. She rummages through my dad's old belongings and produces a belt.

Here it comes...

"You think you're special?" She yells at me, taking off my shirt to reveal the countless other bruises and scars on my back. She begins to whip me again. Each blow shoots pain through my body, bringing tears to my eyes. "You- should- be- ashamed- of- yourself!" Punctuating every word with a blow. The beating goes on for 5 more endless minutes.

Through the haze of pain and self-pity I feel my arm being tugged out of the room and unceremoniously dumped in the living room.

"I don't want you out of your God-damn room for the rest of the weekend," she snarls at me as I weakly pull myself up. I nod as I stumble down the hallway into my bedroom, closing the soundproofed door behind me as I begin to weep on my floor.

Throughout middle school I begin to change. The grades may have spiked up to straight A's, but one by one my friends stop talking to me. Ever since the accident I became so sensitive to my mom's physical and psychological abuse that it drove the rest of the people who were close to me away.

Moving to Arendelle didn't help either.

When my mom discovered that I was a lesbian, she nearly exploded.

"At least a good luck kiss?" I'm tugging the arm of my date, a cute, long-haired brunette with a beautiful voice. She laughs.

"Alright, Bjorman," she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek. However, my head had turned slightly to look at her, and her lips catch the corner of mine.

Wait... Oh my god!

Shocked by the feel of lips on mine, I turn my head to face her, and our lips are suddenly completely engaged. Closing my eyes, I melt into the kiss.

After what seems like eternity, she pulls away, with a small smile on both of our faces.

"Good luck, Elsa," she whispers into my ear, "I'll see you soon!" She walks away, leaving me waving in front of my house. I walk up to my front door, raising my fist to knock. Before my hand even touches the wood, the door is opened from the inside, revealing my mother with a cold sneer plastered on her face.

"Who was that?" she asks, quietly. I'm paralyzed with fear. I had forgotten all about her when the kiss had happened. I try to speak but all that comes out is a constricted squeak.

She slams her fist on the wall, and I flinch. "I won't ask again, bitch," she says, "Now, WHO was that?"

If I tell my mother her name, then she'll be in danger too.

I can't let that happen...

"S-she was m-my date..." I stutter out, each word showing like a brick in my mother's face.

"Get your unnatural ass inside this house," she whispers, turning on her heel and quickly walking into the living room. I slowly move through the door frame, closing the door behind me.

"Lock it," she orders, as she closes the blinds. I reach put a trembling hand to flip the deadbolt, hearing the click of the lock.

"Now, Elsa, I'm going to be asking a few questions," she says, snapping out a belt, "Just answer them truthfully and you won't feel as much pain." She grabs my wrist, nails digging into my skin, and pulls me over to the wall. She tears off my shirt and bra, sneering when I try to cover myself.

"Oh, so now you're trying to be decent, even when you were getting close with that whore outside."

"She's not a whore!" I yell, earning my a punch in the stomach. I collapse on the floor. She sighs, and drags me over to the couch.

"Face the wall, and put your hands on the wall as well," she says, and I follow her orders. "Now, how long have you had this... Condition?" She asks. I remain silent. I can't see her, but I can hear the shifting of the long belt. I brace myself as the cool leather whistles through the air and lands on the skin of my exposed back, a loud crack accompanying the blow.

"I ask again," she asks, anger dripping from her voice, "How long?" A short pause, and two more blows. I flinch from each hit, hands slipping from sweat.

Pull yourself together Elsa, you've been hit by a belt before.

"A c-couple of years," I mumble, and my mother withdraws for a small time.

"Did you ask this girl out?" Silence, and 3 more hits mark my back.

"Yes," I reply, hoping for another small break. I gasp and lose my balance as she starts whipping my back, each blow sending spikes of pain through my body.

"Get up!" She snarls, "You haven't even felt the worst!" She cracks the belt again, this time grazing my left chest, and I let out a small whimper.

"Have you gone out with this girl before?" I shake my head, and reply, "No, mother."

"What was her name?" I shut my mouth, bracing myself for the whipping.

You can't give her away... Don't betray her...

The onslaught begins, with my mother growing bolder with each new bruise on my skin. The whip begins to travel from my back to my arms, my neck, and my stomach.

Still, my mouth refuses to open. I turn my head slightly to see my mother, who stopped the whipping. My eyes widen as I see her holding the belt by the leather end, the metal clasp poised to hit me.

"What did she whisper to you, outside?" She asks. I freeze. If she finds out the we were going to meet again, then theres no telling what she will do...

The sound of the metal clasp flying through the air puts my mind in lockdown mode, not knowing how to deal with the new vector of pain.

She's never done anything like this...

The belt slams into my back, and I cry out in pain.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing..." The belt flies through the air again, this time hitting my ribcage. I feel a sharp sting as the belt tears through a small patch of skin, dripping blood onto the couch's covering.

Tears begin to silently fall from my eyes as my mother unleashes blow after blow on me, covering my back with bruises and gashes. I collapse onto the couch after she stops the whipping, the bloodied belt hanging by her side. She leans in to my side.

"What did she tell you?" she asks, dragging a nail across my bruises.

"S-she told me w-we'd see each other s-soon..." I whisper, tears flowing into the couch, which was dotted with my blood. She stands up, wiping the blood on her hands on my T-shirt.

"First thing tomorrow morning, you pack your bags." I turn my head to see her combing her hair down in front of a mirror.

"-What?"

"We're leaving. Don't even try to convince me otherwise, whore." She snarls, "Now, go to your room before I bring out the belt again."

I slowly get up on trembling knees, each step feeling like a mile. I pull my bloody shirt to cover myself as the tears continue to drip from my eyes.

Will this hell ever end?