Chapter 1

This had to be the worst it has ever been. Nothing compare to the pain that I felt right now. Not a thing. Not the time when I first got beat as a small child. Not the time my arm was broken. Not even the time when glass pierced my head, almost showing the skull. No nothing could compare. This time things got worse.

My day started like any other. My adoptive father would yell at me to get my lazy ass up. My brother would come hurrying in to make sure I was up before the beast came to check. I would clean myself up as much as I can from the blood that was split the night before. I made a breakfast with spoiled food and then walked to school with my brother.

At school we remained hidden. We walked in the shadows. We sat in the back of class away from windows. We ate no lunch but spent time in the empty music room. We worked quietly. We remained invisible to all. It was all for the better.

But what made things go bad happened at work. I had just finished my shift when Mr. Nelson called me to his office.

"Dove, we have to let you go," were the first words out his mouth when I sat in the chair across from him. "The economy is killing us and we have to cut people who aren't going to be here for years and not on full time. Though, you are trust worthy, the company can't risk you quitting after we fire some else to keep you. Here is your final paycheck with a bonus. I'm sorry."

I knew this was not good news. Not because I no longer had a job. Oh no, that was the last thing on my mind. The first, though, was what was going to happen when I had to tell Greg. I was in dip shit. And it was a Friday. This meant he was coming home drunk.

Right on the dot, at eight Greg the Beater walked in. "Where's the check?" Even in his intoxicated state he remembered the days I got paid.

I handed it over while saying, "I have bad news." He looked at me to continue. "I was fired."

He said nothing. Instead, he grabbed the closest thing to him, the small fake marble statue, and threw it at me. It hit me right in the stomach. I fell over and rolled away, but he came chasing. He kicked me in the head, threw the empty beer bottle on my arm, and pulled my hair all at the same time. Over and over and over the pain came. Glass and blood and tears and red eyes were all I saw. I heard my brother coming in from work, but Greg pushed him up stairs before he could try to help me.

Three hours this torture went on. Then it stopped and he said, "Get out. Get out and don't come back until you get a job or I send Tiger. I don't want to see your face. Get out." He went to his room.

Slowly, I got up from the floor, trying to hold my arms and belly at the same time. Tiger, my twin brother, helped me out the door, but that was all he could do. I walked as far as I could and that's how I ended up here, about three miles from Greg's house, lying in the middle of the street at midnight alone.

…

I never realized that I had passed out on that street. I hadn't realized that someone had found me, picked me up, and driven me to some unknown place. All this new information was not given to me until I opened my eyes.

I was currently in what looked to be a living room, but it was nothing like the mess I had left hours ago. This one was pure like nothing bad has ever taken place here. The furniture was new. A chandelier hung from the ceiling. A large flat screen was the center of attention. The walls were a golden brown. Everything in this one room was clean. I knew for a fact that who ever lived here was rich.

I tried to sit up from where lay on the couch, but a scream erupted from my throat as I felt pain in my stomach area. Tears ran down my face as I clutched myself for dear life. I tried to rock the pain away like I usually do but was only met with more of what I was trying to get rid of. There was definitely more wounds then there has ever been at once.

A pair, or many pairs, of hands started to grab me. I screamed more as they pressed too much pressure where ever they touched. Hurried talk was surrounding me as if a group of people were trying to figure out how to restrain me without hurting me more. But they didn't have too because, after my screams died down, I had passed out again.

The next time I woke up, I was surrounded by many people. People I hadn't spoken to, but have seen, in years. Their faces were full of concern about something. I tried to sit up but a voice stopped me.

"Don't do it. I will not take your screams again." This person I knew well. His name was Tristan and he use to be my best friend before my parents died. The people around him were his family and friends, people I see at school or at the grocery store when I had enough to buy bread.

"Where am I?" I asked, not sure whose home this was. But then reality caught up with me and I said, "I must get out. I have to go." If Greg knew I was here, that would be the end of my life. I don't know how, but every time I did something or went somewhere I wasn't supposed to, he knew.

"You will not go anywhere," said another voice that could only belong to Tristan's elder brother, Shaun. "But you will tell us who you are?" Shaun was always an asshole who thought he was entitled to anything he wanted.

I looked around at all the faces, each one wondering who I was. No one remembered who I use to be to them. No one even gave a glance of recognition. I guess my brother and I were truly forgotten after all these years even if we were always there.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "I must go to …my house." I couldn't say home because I didn't have one. In fact, I didn't have a house to go to either. I was officially homeless. I lowered my head and let my hair hide my face from the people who thought me a stranger.

"Of course it matters, darling," said the sweet voice of Tristan's mother. "We must know who you are and who did this to you?"

"No one did anything. I simply fell down."

A scoff was heard and Tristan said, "Do you honestly expect us to believe that?"

"Yes," I said coldly. "It's the truth." It was part of the truth because when I was hit with the statue, I did fall. "If you will excuse me…" I began to sit up, wincing as I went, but again was stopped b a hand.

I looked up at who was holding me down and was met with the eyes of Mrs. Stewart. We held eyes for a long moment. She was searching my face as if a flash from the past was catching up with her. Then she asked, "Dove? Dove Hail?"

I looked away from her and again hide behind my long black trenches. I knew someone would guess.

"Catey and George's girl? Isn't she dead along with her brother and parents."

I also knew they thought me dead. Everyone did because no one saw us after the day of the accident. The police had my parents turned to ashes after the autopsy. They were thrown into the Atlantic.

"Are you little Dove Hail, girl?" the impatient tone came once again from Shaun.

Softly, but just as cold as all my other words, I said, "Yes. I am Dove Hail. No my brother and I aren't dead," in my head I added physically.

I was then hugged by Mrs. Stewart. Her squeezes were too tight and made it even harder for me to breathe. Tears ran down my face in pain. Tristan's friends must have noticed because the two of them pulled her off of me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just so happy to see you again that I forgot you were in pain." She was wiping her own tears away. "Tristan, be a dear and call the family doctor and tell him to rush over here. Shaun, be useful and prepare the guest room."

"No,' I said louder and stronger. "I don't want your help. I am old enough to take care of myself. I have done it for years and I have no intention of taking any of your services."

The room was silent, but was broken, once again, by Tristan. "It's not about what you want. It's about what you need. So stop being a snob and let us help you."

I sat up, ignoring the hand that tried to keep me down. "You should refrain from calling anyone a snob before you look in the mirror. The last thing I am is a snob as you so cleverly put it. I don't need anything besides being left alone."

I stood up from the couch, but was soon tumbling down. The strong arms of the Snob boy caught me. "Still don't need help? Mom, you call the doctor. I'm going to watch over her."

Everyone left except Tristan and his friends. I sat in my spot on the couch, while being watched over like a prisoner. I felt more like one here than with Greg. At least he didn't watch me.

The silence was broken by the ringing of my phone. The only reason I had one was because Greg wanted to be able to contact me whenever he needed a punching bag or money. If I didn't answer, he would beat me harder.

I looked at the caller id and saw that it was my brother. "Hello? Tiger, why are you calling? It's late. Is he asleep?"

I got confused looks from my guards as I began my conversation.

"I'm worried about you, Dove. You didn't call like I told you."

"You told me that? I don't remember."

"Of course not. You were half unconscious and stumbling out the door when I told you. Where are you?"

I hid myself again and lowered my voice. "When I left, I walked three miles before falling in the middle of the road. When I woke up, I was in a fancy living room and screaming in pain."

"Whose house, Dove?"

"The Stewarts."

There was silence. "How much do they know?"

"They already guessed that someone hurt me. I tried to lie, but it didn't work. I've been trying to get away, but they won't let me go. I need your help Tiger."

"I can't do anything for you, sis. Greg has me on lock down. He beat me just because I helped you out the door."

"How bad?" I looked up and saw all three guys straining an ear.

"Just a cut on the arm, and a bruise on the leg. You?"

"I don't know. It is too much to figure out. They're getting a doctor, Tiger."

"Shit, find a way out. I'll sneak out and meet you by the park. Alright?"

"Yeah, see you soon bro. Oh, and bring me black jeans and the very large hoodie. I'll be hiding extra tomorrow at school."

"Okay."

I hung up and put my phone in my pocket. I looked over to Tristan who was staring at me like I was a bug. One he wanted to squish. I still remembered the times when he never looked at me that way. But I guess he remembers me from the halls, because when anyone saw me that was the look they gave me.

"Hey," I said coldly, ignoring his stare, "anyway I could get a bath or something to clean up." If I remembered correctly all their bathrooms had windows.

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A/N: Don't forget to review!