FINDING THE STRENGTH

You cannot stop what is done to you—you can only survive it. It is important that you live for the day that you are beautiful to yourself, but you also need to live for the day you are beautiful to someone else. And one day, you will see that our fingerprints do not fade from the lives we have touched.

I do not own anything, just my ideas! WARNING! This story does contain sensitive subjects that are included in this chapter.

PROLOGUE

TRIS

One of my hands reaches out for the doorknob of my bedroom door.

A simple twist—that is all it will take. My fingers tentatively take hold of the cold metal, but they sharply retreat back to a long silver chain wrapped around my neck. At the end of the necklace is my mother's wedding ring. My fingers idly rub along the diamond that stays perfectly polished. I've been wearing this for four years, a constant reminder that she is always with me.

I take small steps backwards, allowing a distance to grow between myself and the door that separates me from the party. The door that keeps me safe in my room. I pass my mirror, look briefly, but abruptly turn away. My appearance is plane and unremarkable, but simple. Sometimes my mother would tell me that there is more to a person than just one thing. But she also said to never look too long at one's reflection.

I'm used to secluding myself from others. It's a part of myself that I accepted a long time ago.

My brother's party infuses life with the burning scent of alcohol. My ears are consumed with fast music and the kind of loud shouts that come from instinct driven decisions. I cancel it all out by plugging my headphones into my ears to enter my own world and ignore the one I've left behind.

Two years separate me from my brother, but there are so many more things that stand between us. He used to be really smart, and he was proud of that, but ever since our mother died he's changed. Instead of impressing our mother with the ability to name different bones in the body, he focuses on making our father proud with his talent on the field.

The football team won the first game of the season and are local favorites for state. It is not much of a surprise that Caleb is one of the most popular guys at our school. Thinking about sports and girls lets him forget about mom. But he doesn't deal with the worst of it; I do.

I reach for the sketchbook and pencil on my nightstand and turn to a blank page. I am not as good as my mom was, but I am close. She had a real gift, and I have been practicing for these past few years since it happened.

We all have our different ways of dealing with our grief. Caleb drains his sorrow in football. My father constantly works which includes multiple trips across and out of the country. Me, I draw. It was an interest that we shared. I was always closer with my mother than anyone else in my family, and her death hit me the hardest.

I was eleven year old when my mother left our home in a taxi, and it was that taxi that flipped off the road and killed her. I still don't understand all the details, and I don't know when I will ever be ready to hear them all. But I have not been in a taxi since, which is impressive considering I live in New York City.

Our family hasn't been the same since then. My father for some reason shuts me out and never acknowledges me. Caleb has taken a completely different road, one that I don't really want to pursue. The only person I feel close to anymore is my Godmother Tori. She and my mother were close friends and I visit her on occasion in Chicago. She owns a bunch of different bars and restaurants. Some are for adults, some for teenagers, and some even for kids. She loves entertaining people and having a good place to hang out. When I visit her I don't usually go to these places, we just stay at her house. I visit her so often, I have pretty much claimed the guest room as my own.

I hear a loud thud which brings me back to reality.

The party downstairs. Dad is out of town and Caleb's team and half the school is celebrating the win. If you ask me, it wasn't that hard of a win. And yes, I am very savvy with my knowledge of football from my brother. Because I have to go wherever Caleb goes, I have become sort of an expert on football and pretty much every other sport he is interested in.

Another thud. Something inside of me that has never made an appearance brings my legs forward and my hand grips the doorknob. I open the door and am welcomed by the smell of alcohol. Every room in our house is consumed with teenage partying, except my room. It is off limits, and I am off limits from the party.

I find Caleb in the living room. He has an easiness about him that makes me look twice compared to the rigid form he typically takes. He has an arm slung over his friend's—Peter's—shoulders. Caleb's eyes have a glaze on them, but when he sees me, they snap into focus.

I walk over to him, noticing the uncoordinated way he takes a step towards me. "What are you doing here? You need to go back to your room. This is no place for a little freshman to be hanging around."

On the exterior it looks like an older brother embarrassed by their little sister, which is what it is a little. Maybe a lot. I guess it is more due to the fact that Caleb and I are so apart in our ways, he doesn't know what to do with himself around me.

"Oh come on man! Let her join the party and have a little fun. All she ever does is stay locked up in her room." Peter says. He is the linebacker for the school's football team. He puts an arm around me. "You look like you need to have a little fun, and hey, I like to have fun." He hands me a beer, "We can have some fun together."

I have never had alcohol. But there is a current pulling me along and all I can do is follow its track. Maybe it is the pressure of everyone around me or my own curiosity that inclines me to grab the bottle and take a big gulp. The beer is a different taste, almost gross, and I have to force myself to swallow it. I find a trick to shove it past my tongue and gulp it fast.

When I finish the beer, another one of Caleb friends, Debby, leads me to the kitchen. She takes a tall skinny bottle with a clear liquid in it and pours it in a cup.

"Is this it?" I ask, not sure of what sits in front of me. There is not that much in the cup, but I tentatively bringing the cup to my lips.

"If you want it to be, but you are going to think it is disgusting." She says as pulls a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and fills the rest of the cup with it. "You should be set for the rest of the night, you light-weight."

I nod my head and take the drink. I feel a burn, but the sweet lemonade masks it more than the beer. After a few gulps, it begins to lose its burn and I begin to lose my grip with control.

All of a sudden, I feel happy. A strange sound, giggling, is in my throat and escaping my lips. I laugh at every little thing. It feels so relaxing, as if the current pulling me along has turned into a lazy river that calmly carries me. I am aware of what I am doing, and I can think through everything going on around me, but all that is hidden away inside me. I ignore the voice in my head and allow myself to be without the burden. I do not worry about other's judgement of me or my appearance.

Instead, I walk up to people. I talk without a care of what I am saying or what the other people think. It is like a new sense of confidence has strengthened me. Random thoughts and ideas pop into my head, ones that my normal self would laugh at them and their obscurities. The number of girls that tell me I look pretty even without makeup add as the night goes on.

At one point, I find myself dancing. It is so out of the ordinary, I feel like another person has taken over my body. I feel a hand graze my side, and it takes me a moment to realize it happened. When I turn, all I see is people and I can't detect who actually did it. Or if anyone did. My mind and body feel separated.

Later, when I look down at my cup, I see it is empty. I begin to need the support of walls and other people to stand and walk.

Without another thought, I begin to walk toward the stairs up to my room.

A hand grabs mine.

"Don't tell me you are partied out," Peter says when I turn back to him.

"As much fun as it has been, I need to go."

"But little Bea, you are all grown up. You should be able to enjoy the party to its fullest. You're not the little girl you used to be."

"I've had fun," I laugh. "But I am tired."

With that, I hurry up the stairs toward my room. My room is at the end of the hall, but I slow my pace as a walk, finally allowing the reality of my first drunk experience sink in. I feel ashamed at the lack of control over myself and vow it won't happen again any time soon. My eyes feel heavy, and I guess I didn't notice it earlier, but drinking made me relaxed, but sleepy. And I feel sleep creeping up on me like an old friend.

Someone grabs me by the shoulders and shoves me into the guest room. I fall to the floor, and the once lit lights turn off. With an ungraceful violence, Peter strides to me and grabs my face in his hands and kisses me.

"Peter?!" I pull away, sobering fast as if all the alcohol has drained from my body. What is he doing?!

"Peter get off me," I try. I try to fight him off, but my vision feels blurred and I am not nearly as strong as Peter is. "Peter, you're drunk, get out of here. Get off me!"

"Oh, but why would I do that? I wasn't kidding when I said you've gotten older." He slurs out. I can taste the beer. He has me pinned to the ground.

I begin to scream. He's on top of me and I can feel his hand groping over my body, lingering at distinct spots and grabbing hold of my clothes.

His sloshy mouth comes to my ear, "Don't scream, no one can even hear you. And besides, I know you want this." His hand tugs at my shirt. "You've gotten so hot."

He rips my clothes off and try to grab a blanket, pillow, anything to create a barrier between us. He hits me. Hard. With every blow brings a new wave of pain. I can't believe this is happening to me. I scream as loud as I can tell my throat bleeds. But I find no salvation.

"Please don't do this. I'm not ready." But words feel worthless. He hits me over and over; I can feel my skin changing color. Then, I see the shiny metal clenched in his hand, appearing from his pocket.

A knife.

He holds the cold weapon to my throat and I freeze.

"You know I could tape your mouth, but that would be unpleasant. So just shut up you little bitch," he says.

I freeze. Fear becomes the only thing I am aware of. It's like I have become a ghost, exiting my body and helplessly living through this hell happening. He is so much bigger than I am and he has the knife.

Something deep inside me, I do not know where it comes from, flickers with light. Fight, it tells me. And I do, as much as I can.

And then I feel the sharp blade make contact with my chest. It's like time has slowed, and every second that passes feels like a year. The whole room turns to gray. I feel the blood slowly drip and run down my body.

I go into shock.

He cut me.

Everything is in a blur. I feel him, I feel the pain his touch leaves on my body.

But I am numb.

Then it happens. I am reminded that I am still alive in this world. He plunges into me and it is the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life. I let out a blood curdling scream that hell cannot ignore.

There are times when the mind is dealt such a blow, it hides itself in insanity. While this may not be beneficial, it is. There are times when reality is nothing but pain, and to escape that pain the mind will leave reality behind.

And that is when everything goes black.

Author's Note

I have been looking back on this story and I want to fix a few things. I edited and revised this chapter a little bit, and I will probably do the same to other chapters throughout the story. If you are new to this story, I hope you have enjoyed this prologue, and I hope you continue. This is my first fanfiction, so that is one of the reasons I am going back to adjust a few things. Please review!

Be brave, everyone!

PART I SNEAK PEEK

"Okay, you come to the game tonight. If, and when, we win, you have to come to the next game. And that goes for every week of the season. The game we lose, the deal is off and you are a free woman."

The worst part is, I knew this would happen. I knew if I let my walls down and let people in, bad things would happen.

He gives me stability in a way I can't describe. So it is him and me, hand in hand, and I keep holding on just because I want to.

"You're not alone because I know what it's like. I've been on the other side of horrible things. I... I have permanent scars, too."

Someday? My heart skips at the single word. It's simple, but its meaning is bigger. It is a piece of the future. A future with the two of us... together.