December 10th, 2018 - Monday

I'm not sure sure why we moved up here to this cold ass hellhole, only to freeze our asses off while my dad drinks away the welfare checks. I brush a hand through my messy hair as my alarm begins to blare out, rolling off my thin mattress and onto the floor. I stumble to my bathroom and gently run a finger over the rapidly darkening bruise on my jaw.

I swear quietly before grabbing the concealer, making sure to cover this one up and then the faded one over my left eye. The concealer doesn't help my split lip but with a clear layer of gloss then it's a little less noticeable. I brush my hair into acceptableness, at least for the public anyway, and then deem myself ready for public.

Next I get dressed in what I hope is a pair of clean skinny jeans and a long thin t-shirt, hoping my sperm donor goes out tonight so I can actually wash my clothes. I grab my messenger bag and hoodie from where I dropped them Friday and head out the door, tiptoeing past the beer bottles and my snoring father to start the walk to school.

It's freezing, as it has been for the past three days that I've been here, and the my entire body is numb by the time I reach Denali High School. I look around for the office, wondering why the fuck it isn't at the entrance but whatever, until I hear footsteps coming my way. I immediately tilt my head down to avoid eye contact out of habit, hoping whoever it is will just walk past me but luck has never been on my side.

"Hey, you look lost. Can I help you find something?" I lift my head but keep my eyes down, not too trusting despite the voice being distinctly feminine.

"I, uh, need to find the office." I murmur softly, fiddling with the bottom of my hoodie as I wait for her to answer.

"Oh, that's where I'm heading right now so you can follow me." I nod my understanding and follow the woman as told, immediately giving her some points for wearing high top Converse. Turns out it is all the way down the hall, like why the fuck is it not at the entrance?

The woman splits away from me with a soft goodbye leaving me to talk with the secretary about my shit. She gives me the welcome packet and then some vague directions to my homeroom before dismissing me, the old woman glaring at me as I go. I get lost trying to find my locker despite the school being small as fuck and only two floors so I just give up and head to my first period, music.

I knock on the door as I am late, mentally swearing when I see it is a man. Yeah he is a bronze haired god, but looks do not equal kindness in the world. I hand him the note that basically says I am new and do not know where the fuck I am going, the young looking teacher just smiling a bit.

"Welcome to Denali High School, do you play any instruments?" Mr. Masen inquires in a soft tone as he checks the note, pointing to a chair in the back of the room.

"No sir," I reply simply, walking past the other students who apparently can't comprehend a new student moving to their school in the last week of the first semester. 'Not my fault I moved to this fuckin' place.' I gingerly lower myself into the seat, my ribs hurting from the fact that my dumbass slept in my Ace bandages. Mr. Masen lets us all know that this week will be pretty chill since people are testing, the bronze-haired god letting whoever wants to play the instruments scattered around the room.

I want to sit down at the beautiful grand piano but change my mind as I don't want to draw any attention to myself, not on my first day anyway. I pull out my sketchbook so I can focus on something other than the loudness of the room and all the people. 'Or Mr. Masen as he is one handsome motherfucker.'

I work on the only drawing I actually have, it's just kind of busy with the words 'Be Awesome Today' in the center. My other one that was filled was left back in New York with my friend as I didn't trust my mother to not burn it out of spite. I work on filling in the details and such, barely noticing the bell ringing and all the other students scrambling out of the classroom.

My stomach rumbles quietly as I make my way to English, a few choice words almost slipping through my lips when I see another hot ass teacher. I hand him the same slip as Mr. Masen, ignoring the gorgeous grin he's sporting as he signs it. I'm in the front row this time since there's no seats left in the back, a few students choosing to watch me instead of actually listening.

I brush a hand through my hair, eyeing the green strands with a small smile. This is my rebellion. The one thing I can do to keep my sperm donor from controlling all of me, my entire life. All I have to do is re-apply the dye every few months, since I'm not permitted showers all that often, and I'm good.

I finish the rough draft of the drawing by the time class ends, my hand cramping up from being in the same damn position for too long. I shove my sketchbook back into my bag before slipping out into the crowded hallway, easily blending in with the rest of the students on my way to Art.

When I step into the large room I notice that it isn't like the other classrooms. The walls are a black background with rainbow paint splatters, hella gay in my opinion. I take a seat in the very back since the teacher isn't here, pulling my sketchbook back out and a black Sharpie. As I'm outlining everything I hear the door shut and then a deep voice, a chill running down my spine as I realize my misfortune.

"So you guys know the drill, work on whatever you want just make sure your weekly submission is on my desk by Friday. Don't forget that this week's theme is animals." I glance up when the man stops, my heart skipping a beat when I see that it is yet another fine as hell teacher, a large one at that. His eyes meet mine and I quickly snap my head down, closing my sketchbook as I hear footsteps approach.

"You're the new girl, right? Alyson?" He questions curiously, fear coursing through me as I think of all the pain he could inflict upon me.

"I prefer Harper," I mutter in reply, effectively hiding my face from his gaze with my hair.

"Got it, can I have the slip?" I hand said piece of paper to the large man and listen to his receding footsteps before lifting my head again. I rub my thumb across the tattoo on my wrist as I wonder where I've seen those eyes before, and I don't mean Mr. Masen. 'I know someone who has gold eyes, now who the fuck is it?'

"Here you go, Harper." I jump when a thick sketchbook is slapped down on my desk, Mr. McCarty looking a bit surprised at my reaction. "Sorry," He adds on, smiling down at me sheepishly as I try to subtly scoot away from him. Thankfully he steps away to help another student so I grab the sketchbook and flip to the first page, glad that it has rings instead of binding. 'It's a pain in the ass to keep that shit down.'

I write my name beside where it says name before beginning this week's assignment, tapping my pencil against my lip as think about what I'm drawing. Once I figure it out I get to work, getting the whole outline done before class ends. I head to the cafeteria for lunch and outside to one of the tables, staring at the food as I pass, a wave of hunger crashing into me as I haven't eaten in almost three days.

I take my mind off my need for food by focusing on my "Be Awesome Today" drawing, the scratch of my pen on paper oddly soothing. As I trace the lines of my pencil I think back to my friends in New York, wondering how they're all doing. I bet my sketchbook that Alex and Tris are in trouble again, probably caught sneaking out to see the other. The others most likely doing subtler things, things that can't be traced back to them like tagging. 'They better be protecting my art.'

I barely register the bell ringing, the sound of feet thundering on the tile snapping me from my thoughts. I rush to Calculus and barely make it as the door's shutting, the teacher raising a brow at me as I step inside. I hand her my slip without a word and mentally urge her to hurry up as the other students begin to stare at me. She hands it back and points to a chair in the middle of the fucking room despite there being one at the back.

I plop down into my chair with a wince, pain flaring through my chest as I jar my already fucked up ribs. I take a few deep breaths before focusing on the teacher again, Mrs. Whitley or something, though look away when I realize she's staring straight at me. I note the same gold eyes that the others have had minus Mr. Black, the answer to where I've seen them before in the back of my head.

Turns out her name is Mrs. Whitlock, not Whitely. My bad. She starts a review on something I couldn't care less about so I pull out my sketchbook to finish my drawing. I manage to finish it so I start a new one, my favorite superhero of all time. I brush my hair from my eyes as I draw, the pesky strands dropping into my eyes every time. 'I could probably where this shit up if I tried.'

"Alright class, grab a worksheet on your way out and have it back by tomorrow." I glance up from my drawing to see the students filing out, Mrs. Whitlock eyeing me as I gather up my stuff. I grab said worksheet as I shuffle out of the classroom, Physics thankfully right next door.

Another gorgeous, golden-eyed creature. Fuck me and my luck. I think the school is breeding the flawless specimens in the basement because they're too perfect. Thankfully she doesn't say anything as I hand over my slip, the blond woman more like a statue with the stony look she's got going on.

Physics has always been easy for me, it's just theory in high school and as long as I understand this shit I'm golden. 'Just like their eyes, heh. I'm hilarious.' I listen absently to Mrs. McCarty's lesson, more interested in twirling a strand of my hair than her. Thankfully you can't really give homework for Physics because it's always the same shit, so we'd literally be doing the same thing every time.

This lesson ends early and she leaves us to do our thing, so I doodle on the inside of my notebook as there's no point in pulling out sketchbook with only five minutes left. I'm th first out the door, already up the stairs by the time the hallways get crowded. I step into my History class to see a lean man standing against the desk, an impassive look on his face as I repeat the slip process.

I take a seat in the back, away from his desk thank you, as he migrates to the front of the room. The last student walks in and Mr. Whitlock begins writing on the board, instructions apparently. 'He's one of those teachers, I guess.'

I grab a textbook from the back like the rest of the students and get to work reading, most of the answers hard to find in this small ass text. I'm signing my name at the top when class ends, a triumphant sigh escaping my lips as I hand it to the handsome teacher. 'Goddamnit, gold eyes.'

I stop by my locker to shove my bag inside half-heartedly, more focused on where the hell I've seen gold eyes before. I start the cold trek back to the other hellhole, hands stuffed into the pockets of my jeans to give me some sort of protection against the cold as my shirt is doing much. When I get to the bland house I see my fathers truck is gone, a glimmer of hope flitting through my mind as I think about him getting a DUI.

Since the man isn't home I wash my clothes in the bathroom sink and then stick them in the dryer, unsure of how much time I have before he's back from the bar. I start on my chores while my stuff is drying, grumbling about how strong the cleaner is, already feeling lightheaded. I get done around five-ish and take my clothes back to my room, throwing them back in the closet floor as I don't have anything to put them up with.

I slip into the bathroom to peel off the bandages around my chest, breathing out a relieved sigh at the fact I can breathe now. I wrap them around my shoulders for now as I check over my current battle wounds, making sure nothing's too bad. The bruise on my jaw is now a deep purple, the one on my hip a sickly yellow color, and the fingerprints on my left shoulder almost gone.

I study the pink scar on my collarbone in the mirror with a grimace, remembering how happy my dad was to see me. I feel pain twinge through my body as I reminisce pulling the shard of glass out, the memory still fresh in my mind. I leave the bathroom before I fall down the pit of self-loathing, not wanting to put myself through that tonight. 'I'll pencil it in for tomorrow, though.'

I hear the familiar rumble of my dad's old truck and scramble to my room, kneeling by my door as I was taught the first day. I listen to his thunderous footsteps as he drunkenly stumbles up the stairs, fear flowing through me like a river. My door smashes open and then he's standing over me, a hand coming down to grip my hair tightly as he forces me to look at him.

"No good whore," He slurs, eyes bloodshot and sunken, "Jus' like your mother." He shoves me roughly to the floor and gives me one good kick before stalking off, hopefully leaving me alone for the night. No such luck though.

Some time late he's back and angry at something, probably me. He grabs me roughly by the arm causing me to squeak, something I regret as soon as it happens. Rule number one, don't make a sound. His fist slams into my face out of nowhere, my head whipping to one side as I begin to see stars. 'Even drunk as hell he's stronger than I am.'

"Can't do anything right, can't even clean like a woman." He drops me to the ground and kicks me in rapid succession, my stomach and chest beginning to ache like a bitch. I think about curling myself into a ball but I know the prick would just see it as me defending myself. He finally gets tired and leaves me on the ground, the fat bastard already out of breath.

I lay on the cold ground for a few seconds to catch my breath, my breath coming out almost like a wheeze. Since the pain isn't getting better I crawl, struggling to even get to my mattress. If it's hard to crawl god knows walking to school is going to fucking suck.

December 11th, 2018 - Tuesday

When I wake up everything fucking hurts. I stumble down the hallway to the bathroom tiredly, practically slamming into the door. I wince as I turn on the lighs, gasping when I see my reflection. The bruise on my jaw along with the one on my cheek has me looking like Barney out this bitch, the purple clashing against my pale skin. I pull my shirt up a bit to see that my stomach is a myriad of purple and blue, almost my whole stomach.

I gingerly pull off my shirt to see that I now have matching fingerprints on both of my shoulders, though the left one is just a pale yellow. I roll my shoulders experimentally and immediately yelp, a sharp pain in my left shoulder having me almost in tears. Taking a deep breath, I slowly begin to slowly wrap my chest with the bandages.

Once I'm done I head back to my room silently and over to my closet, digging through the pile of clothes with a groan. I slip on a pair of jeans and then a belt, deciding on a flannel since I can't even lift my arms. I tug my combat boots on with a deep sigh, my ribs screaming in protest as I start walking to school.

It starts snowing around the halfway mark, snow sticking to my hair as I walk inside the school. Thankfully they keep this hellhole warm so I begin to thaw out on my way to my locker, my skin fading away from blue to off white. I set my combination before slinging my bag over my shoulder, biting my lip to keep from whimpering at the pain that races through my body,

"Hey Alyson," I spin around to see the woman who helped me yesterday approaching, a small smile on her face, a deep sense of dread filling me. 'I hope the makeup is covering everything.'

"I prefer Harper, ma'am." I reply simply, shifting a bit as she regards me quietly.

"Would you like me to send an email to all your teachers, you know, inform them of your preference?" She asks softly, not even asking about why I prefer Harper as opposed to my birth name.

"If it's no trouble, ma'am." I mutter, brushing a hand through my bright hair awkwardly.

"Of course not, Harper, I'll send it out once I get back to my office. I was actually wondering if you could come by my office during your lunch period?" She inquires curiously, moving away from my name with ease.

"Um, sure, where's your office?" I agree hesitantly, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep from messing with my tattoo.

"It's in the office, just let Ms. Turner know you have an appointment with me. Have a good day, Harper." I watch her go with a soft sigh, her eyes so goddamn familiar it's annoying the fuck out of me. I head to first period where Mr. Masen is sitting at the piano, his slender fingers moving swiftly over the keys in a way that reminds me of Liz.

"Hello Ms. Reynolds," He calls out softly, not even looking up from the piano as I sit down. 'Adding to the mystery, how did he know I was here?' I keep silent as I sit down in my seat, unsure of what to say so I just listen to him play something I haven't heard before, though it is absolutely beautiful.

My fellow Seniors join me soon enough, the 15 or so students in small groups and talking animatedly to one another. I lean back in my chair as Mr. Masen stops playing and moves to the front of the room, an easy-going smile on his face.

"Alright guys, a change of plans on a chill week." He starts, ignoring the way most of the class groans. "You'll work in pairs to play a song of your choice using any instrument in this room, any song. Singing does count as an instrument of sorts so if only one of you can play then you're okay, so go ahead and pair up." As soon as he says that every student is scrambling to their friend, everyone having a partner except me, the odd boy out.

"Do you mind being on your own, Harper?" I glance to my left to see Mr. Masen standing a good distance back though it's not far enough for me.

"No sir, I don't mind." The grin he gives me in turn is beautiful, so goddamn bright he could light up a whole room.

"Great, let me know what song you wish to play by the end of class." He replies smoothly, smiling once more before leaving me to find a song, my mind running through a million different ones. By the time class ends I've figured out what I want to do, something I've already played before and mastered.

I slip into the crowd and down to my English class, quickly taking my seat and pulling out my sketchbook. I work on Batman while Mr. Black talks about an upcoming essay that's due, the one about what we're going to do once we graduate. 'At this point I'm taking it day by day.'

I work on my essay for the remainder of class, scrapping the damn thing twice before getting an intro I like. Thankfully art is next and I've already finished my weekly assignment so I'm free to chill out for class. I take my seat in the back per usual and pull out my sketchbook, getting to work on finishing my current work. I snag a few outlining pens from the closet since I hate using Sharpies, letting myself get lost in the art.

By the time lunch rolls around I'm done with Batman and signing my initials at the bottom, my ribs still screaming as I pack up my bag. I head to the office like the counselor said, noting the plaque on the door that says 'Mrs. Masen'. I knock on the door hesitantly and jump back when I come face to face with said counselor.

"That was fast, Harper." She comments happily, her observation making me swear under my breath. 'Of course it was, most high schoolers eat lunch.'

"I don't eat lunch, I'm usually not hungry." I say with faux nonchalance, every part of me screaming at the counselor to move on.

"Alright then, how are you liking Denali?" 'I hate this hellhole more than I hate my mother.'

"It's cold," I deadpan, brushing my hair back with a small wince, my muscles still sore from last night.

"That it is," Mrs. Masen laughs, her gold eyes practically sparkling under the flourescent lights. "I wasn't fond of the cold at first but it has grown on me. Where did you live before moving here?"

"All over, but New York was the most recent." I state simply, not too interested in having the woman in my business, no matter how hot she is.

"I've never been to New York, I've heard it is nice though." She replies with a sort of far off look, probably envisioning the nicer parts of New York. "My husband has been there but he says he prefers places with less sun."

"The only nice part about New York is the shopping, only if you have the money. Other than that it's just drugs, violence, and gang wars." I comment drily, crossing my arms over my chest slowly. "It's either too damn hot or cold, sorry." I add on as an afterthought, realizing what I said. 'Last thing I need is her calling my warden, for swearing nonetheless.'

"I can understand that, and don't worry about the swearing." She waves off, her eyes on me as try to shift around, though the pain in my ribs is prohibiting any type of comfortability. "Mr. McCarty has a mouth like a sailor so I've definitely heard worse, Harper." I raise a brow at that little tidbit of information, though I already knew they were related in some way this just cements the theory.

"Cousins?" I question softly, letting some of the usual walls down in the pursuit of knowledge.

"Sort of, Carlisle and Esme took my husband in after his parents passed away. So we're all kind of related in a way." She explains slowly, probably trying not to reveal too much since she doesn't know me all that way. 'Though I know someone like just them. It's right there.'

"That's interesting, I only have my mother and father." I reveal hesitantly, hoping she'll open up in return.

"I understand, I only have my parents too, though now I have all of Edward's family to call my own." 'Interesting indeed.' "Anyway, I asked you hear to see how your classes were going. I heard you had all of my siblings so that ought to be interesting."

"They're going well, I don't struggle in school." I admit softly, brushing my damn hair back yet again. 'I need to cut this shit somehow.'

"That's good, especially for your Senior year. What's your favorite class?" She inquires gently, part of me wanting to tell the hot counselor to fuck off, but I know I shouldn't.

"I like art," I mutter tiredly, not wanting her to think I actually plan to stick around this place. 'First chance I get I'm leaving.'

"Yeah, Emmett has always liked painting which was surprising to me when we first met. He's so huge you'd expect him to be a football player but he hates competitive sports, so he paints." Mrs. Masen says with a fond grin. 'I honestly don't care about your life story.' I nod my understanding as I lean back, subtly adjusting my bandages when they get a bit too tight. I rub my eyes tiredly, snapping my neck up when I hear Mrs. Masen gasp softly.

"What happened to your eye, Harper?" She exclaims, her own eyes wide as I peer into the mirror behind her. 'Goddamnit, I rubbed my make up off.'

"Fight when I left New York," I lie smoothly, grabbing the concealer from my bag with every swear word I can mutter. I reapply the shit to my eye as well as I can in a rush, practically running out of her office in my panic. 'This can only end badly.'

~_~.~_~

By the time school ends I am 100% certain that Mrs. Masen said something to her siblings about me since they keep staring at me so damn much. I walk outside and notice that it had started to snow heavier at some point, the ground covered in snow and hard as fuck to get through. With a deep sigh I start the walk to the prison, glad that it's sort of a backroad and that no one ever comes this way. 'Someone would probably run me over by accident, not that it's a problem.'

Sadly today is not my day, just as no day is my day, and I hear a car slowly approaching me from behind. Seeing as I can't run I settle for stepping to the side and shoving my hands into my pockets, hoping whoever it is doesn't think I'm threatening. 'Granted, what boy with green ass hair is threatening?'

"Harper?" I glance to the side as Mrs. Masen and her husband pull up in a nice ass car, nice by my standards at least. "Why are you walking in the snow?"

"My dad's working so I walk home." I lie, hopeful that she'll accept my answer and leave me the hell alone.

"Without even a jacket? Would you like a ride home?" Mr. Masen questions with a curious glint in his eyes, probably already thinking the wrong thing.

"No sir, but thank you, I don't want to get snow in your car." I state in lieu of a real explaination, knowing that if my father saw a teacher drop me off I'd have hell to pay later.

"We insist, Harper, get in." Mrs. Masen states, motioning for me to get in the back and leaving me no way to escape without causing a problem. So for once I do as I'm told, climbing in the back of their nice, warm car with a soft sigh. 'I am going to get my ass kicked tonight.'

"Thank you, for the ride." I mumble awkwardly before giving them my address, brushing the snowflakes from my hair with a slight smile. 'I've always loved the snow despite hating the cold.'

"It's not a problem, Harper. We'd do the same for any of our students," Mr. Masen states, said statement making me feel a bit better even as he pulls up to my house. I thank the couple once more before escaping back to my prison, part of me glad to be here rather than with them and their soft smiles.

"Was that Mr. and Mrs. Masen?" I spin around so fast to find my dad leaning against the wall with a raised brow, the scent of booze replaced by the Axe he uses.

"Um, yes sir, they gave me a ride home." I answer cautiously, holding my hands behind my back with my head bent down the way he taught me.

"Nice people," He comments absently, his own green eyes boring into me as I wait for the inevitable. "Go make me a sandwich." As he strides past me I expect him to suddenly lash out at me the way he did when I was a kid, but nothing. I wait until he's in the living room before slipping into the kitchen, on edge while I make his sandwich as if he's going to come up behind me. 'I wouldn't put it past the prick.'

Once I'm done I take the asshat his sandwich before heading to the stairs, surprised to hear him say that I could take a shower. Not one to look a gifted horse in the mouth, I do just that. I take the quickest shower ever and then reapply my dye as it will start to fade soon, sticking the tubes back into my bag with a triumphant smile.

I silently walk to my room and shut the door, setting my bag down in my closet so he doesn't destroy it in a fit of rage. For the next few hours I sit in the bay window and watch the snow fall, knowing the walk tomorrow is going to suck ass. A sudden knock on my door has me jumping out of my skin, my father stepping in and tossing something at me before leaving.

Thanks to years of him throwing shit at me I catch it almost instantly, gaping when I see it's a red apple. I take a hesitant bite, just waiting to fall to the ground in agony but that never happens. I take another bite and moan at the sweet taste, the apple being the best thing I've tasted in days.

I take the last glorious bite of the delicious fruit and sigh deeply, my exhaustion from the past few days starting to overcome me as I stumble to the my mattress. As I close my eyes I realize why Mrs. Masen's eyes are so familiar, and exactly where I've seen them before.