15 Ways To Fix A Broken Heart

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  • Published: 12 Mar 2013
  • Updated: 10 Apr 2013
  • Status: Complete
I was, and still are, weird. Yes, my friends are the craziest people you'll ever meet. And yes, I was proud of that small insignificat fact. I thought he was too. But he wasn't, his type never are. I was played with and then made to be broken. Then I found it, The Book. It healed me, this simple book with 15 ways to fix a broken heart.
Copyright (C)
*For the World Book Day App Competition*


2. Alike

The class is empty by the time I finished packing my things and I walk out. I hum a little while I go, I would sing but I'm horribly tone deaf. Lewis even admitted that, even when he was forced to compliment me everyday for the bet. I glance around at the suddenly quiet school. It's unseemingly devoid of students, until I walk by english class.

And then I see them.

Lewis and Maria. Together, no. More like entwined. His hands on her waist and her fingers running through his hair. Together. Maria's eyes flutter open and sees me standing by the doorway, my heart in my throat. She lets go and pushes Lewis away from her.

Please God, don't let me cry. Please let me die before I let Lewis see me cry. More pieces gone, taken away from me. This time a figure that looks strangely like Maria joins my inner demons, taunting me on my stupidity and faithfulness to Lewis. Please just don't let me cry.

Was this going on the entire time? Was I blind to that too? Their intimacy clearly hints that this wasn't a spur of the moment decision, but the sheer fact that Maria's my friend makes me hope that it was. Maybe this was a one-time thing. I don't wait around to find out though.

I rush away, I don't want to be here. A rough hand grabs me from behind, pulling me forward. And suddenly he's here again. Lewis. So many memories flood my brain, warring on who gets control of my thoughts. They dissolve away once I stare in his eyes. His beautiful, terrible, lying eyes. I gulp, all the energy is sapped from me.

Here, standing in front of me is the boy I so want to forget. The planes of his face, the angles, the way the light always manages to get caught in his eyes floors me, leaving me speechless.

"Don't blame Maria," he says worriedly. That's it! After a whole eight months of solid silence this is all he freaking tells me? Anger bubbles over, twisting my conscience, and all I can think about is how to get him to hurt like I’ve been hurting. Before I know it, I gather my strength and deliver a stinging slap to his face. His head falls back but he holds on to me. I smile a little at the red imprint my hand made but it brings little satisfaction.

"Don't blame Maria. It was my fault," he repeats, his voice hoarse, eyes blazing. I see Maria stand by the doorway, looking my way nervously. She's one of my best friends, of course I blame her.

"You're the biggest cad I'll ever have to meet," I spit out. He just smiles.

"Like I haven't heard that before," he laughs with  a ghost of a smile.

"You have three seconds before I kick your nuts in," I threaten, for a lack of a better word, and the smile is wiped off.

"Please, just don't blame Maria," he says again.


"Please, it wasn't her-"


"Just listen to me!"

"Three." I kick his balls in. He collaspes onto the floor dramatically, clutching his middle frantically. I may have hit a little higher than intended but the damage is still done. I'm wearing my spiked toe boots today, lucky choice. Maria gasps but doesn't dare come comfort him while I'm here. Her hair is still disheveled and her eyes are wide with worry. All I see is the specter of the girl who I’ve laughed with, confided in, trusted. That specter crumbles as I try to walk away, attempting to clear my head. But before I can stalk off, something grabs my shoe, wrapping around my ankle. Before I know it, I hit the ground. Hard.

"Don't tell her mother. She doesn't like me, you see," Lewis says between gasps for air. I kick my foot loose.

"Can't imagine why," I mutter before kicking his stomach again. He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat and it gives me much more satisfaction than a little slap. A laugh floats through the air as Maria falls to Lewis' side muttering words of comfort.

I stalk off turning my head slightly to find Trent, the Red River Runs kid by the bleachers.The Sun seems to bounce off him as he sits there,  his eyes shine with laughter as he stares at me plainly, unhiddenly. He gives off the impression that he's studying me with those knowing eyes and I blush. Tell me he didn't see me kick some guy. All I need is more rumours about me.

He nods slightly as if to say, Yes. I did just see you kick that guy. I shake my head a little to try to prove him wrong but he laughs all the more harder.

Screw you, I think to myself and walk away. Even with my back turned I can tell that he's still watching me, and I refuse to turn around.


She hasn't eaten. I fidget with my fingers while washing the dishes. The cool water runs down my hands, washing away the suds from the soap. Her plate is relatively full. She hasn't eaten in days, months.

It's this boy Lewis' fault. I knew he was bad news. He had that sparkle in his eye. No, not a sparkle, a fire in his eyes that proved he was trouble. He was dark, mysterious; everything a young girl falls for before she realizes what that spark in his eyes means. Levi, she reads a ton of romance books. Writes a ton of romance books. There's no denying she was naive but I expected more from her.

I sigh and shut the water off. I know how she feels. She feels like the world is against her, like everything she has ever done was never enough. I walk over to the living room table and rest my pounding head. The table is stacked with bills. Bills we simply cannot pay. Next to the never-ending bills are my psychology papers. For a living I help troubled teens with their problems. I'm dedicated to my job but I'll leave it if it betters living quality of my family.

Something picks at my brain and I know what to do next.


My father is typing away on the laptop, even from here in my room I can still hear the clicking of the rusted keys. My mom is washing the dishes, without a doubt getting frustrated with my not eating. Don't get me wrong, I love food but I just haven't had the apprtite lately. I pull out my writing book from under my bed and start writing, my hand smudging the lead almost instantly.

"Writing again?" Evening asks while walking in. She collapses onto my bed beside me and pulls her headphones off over her obnoxiously large hair bun.

"Yup," I answer without looking up from my book.

"Cool. What're you writing about this time?" she asks slipping on her headphones again.

"Supernatural," I say.

"Again? Why don't you write a realism book or something? I'm writing a fanfic," she says happily.

"First of all, when you write supernatural stories the possibilities are endless. And good for you for the fanfic," I say in a flat tone. Evening notices something different in my voice and narrows her wide eyes. We're alike, Evevning and I. We both have long dark hair that falls down to our waists, mine is naturally stick straight while hers is curly. Brown eyes runs in the family and we all, Evening, my brother Ren and I, have dark eyes. Mine are slightly lighter though.

"Are you still hurting from your breakup?" she asks, blaring her music. Tears spike my eyes but I push them back. I'm not letting her see me cry either.

"Are you still obsessing over your boybands?" I ask instead.

"Yes and you didn't answer my question," she says. I sigh.

"I'm fine," I lie.

"Good, he was a real douche," she laughs. Goodness, did everyone see it before I did?

"How so?" I ask. I put down the pencil and look up at her with mock curiosity to hide my real curiosity.

"Well, he sort of brainwashed you. Everything he said wasn't good, you would drop immediately. In short, he was trouble," she says deep in thought.

"Oh," is all I say.

"I got to go. Don't write for too long, you always get cranky when you stay up all night writing," she says and leaves the room.

I shut the book and lay my head down. I don't let my eyes fall in case I see Maria and Lewis again at the backs of my eyes. Of course he'd l go for Maria, all the guys do. She's beautiful, tall and blue-eyed whereas I'm short with boring brown eyes. And I'm a freak, I didn't forget that. Until eight months ago I was proud to be different, to be unique. All my friends were. I thught Lewis was also, but he wasn't. The pretty ones never are.

"Levi, there's something in the mail for you," my mom sings from outside my room. I pull myself off the bed and swipe away lingering tears before opening the door.

"What is it?" I ask in a hoarse voice.

"I don't know, open it," she says before returning back to the living room. I jump back onto my depressingly cheery yellow covers before tearing it open. It was a book.

It wasn't thick, maybe twentyor twenty-five pages but it was filled with multi-coloured sticky notes. It wasn't elaborate either, just a simple black leather cover. I open it gingerly to find creamy white paper tatooed in scribbled black writing. Embossed on the front page are these words:

15 Ways To Fix A Broken Heart

"Who in the world would send me something like this?" I half-whisper to myself. Then I take a deep breath and start reading. The intro started like this:

"Look I know what you're thinking: who writes a book on heartbreak? Well, I do and if you like it then stop reading. Anyway, everyone's had their heart broken. Wether it be from a serious romance or (which I highly suspect  you're going through) puppy love. Most people can't tell the difference, I couldn't either at first. What you need to know is that it gets better, you just have to be willing to try."

That catches me off guard, was it puppy love? It couldn't have been, it felt so real. I felt so grown up. I continue reading.

"Look,deciding on wether or not it was real or not will drive you crazy. You want to believe that it was real but at the same time you think that if it was real there should've been a way to fix whatever problems you had. I've been there many times. Anyway, my job is to help you through it. Here are 15 way to fix a broken heart."

I set the book down and rub my eyes. I'll read more tommorrow. Right now I'm perfectly content to well up in my misery.


Ugh. Detention. I make my way through the crowded school hallway in my perfectly scruffy Converse to the detention room.  First detention of the year.

"You okay Levi?" Sia asks while patting my back. I swallow the lump in my throat nod.

"I don't even know why you're in detention. You didn't technically do anything wrong," she shrugs.

"I know," I agree.

"Well, I'll see you after school. I'm meeting Maria at the park later," she says. I nod and and she walks away. I haven't told her about Maria and Lewis. Sia is the kind of girl who hits first and asks questions later, regardless of if the people she's hitting are friends or not. I take a deep breath in and walk inside.

The guy, Trent is in there at the back of the class next to the mostly closed window. I sigh and take a seat closest to the front on the second row.

I pull out my writing book and continue the story I was writing last night. It was, of course, a supernatural book. It revoloved around vampires who, in my opinion are a sorry excuse for magical beings, but seem to have a hold on readers. I hate having to waste my writing time about them but if that's what's in, so be it.

I glance back at Trent who seems to be immmersed on a game in his phone, his tongue sticking out in a concentration. Every now and then he would grunt after a seemingly pointless victory causing me to drop my pencil. Then I would peak outside and see Lewis and Maria together on the grounds of the school and dive back in, my face scarlet wih humiliation.

Then he came up to me.

"Do you have a problem with me?" he asks, his honey-coloured hair falling in his eyes.

"No," I answer without looking up from my book.

"Really? You haven't talked to me this whole time," he says with a smile on his lips. I quickly look up.

"No. I don't have a problem with you," I reply again. Silence.

"If there's one thing I hate in people it's lying and you," he says wagging a finger in my face,"are doing just that." I slam my book down.

"You want to know why I haven't talked to you? First of all, I barely know you're name. Second of all, you got me a detention. And third, YOU GOT ME A DETENTION AND I BARELY KNOW YOUR NAME!" I yell, letting my composure slip. My angry breath sets my baby hair in disarray and it takes me a moment to set them back in place and calm myself.

"My name's Trent," Trent says as he takes the seat in front of me.

"So I've heard," I say dryily. We don't say anything for a while and without looking up I can tell that he's studying me with those black eyes of his.

"So what's yours?" he asks.

"Levi," I answer, peering up slightly.

"Who names a kid Levi?" he snorts.

"Parents," I say. He laughs. His laugh is loud and plainly goofy and that is probably the first thing I've liked about him since I've met him.

"I meant what kind of parents," he clarifies.

"The kind who get drunk the second a birth certificate is thrust in their faces," I say. I'm not entirely sure if my parents were drunk when they named me or not but that's the story I'm sticking to.

"Cool," is all he says.

"Okay," is all I say for a while.

"I think you made your opinon on me very clear. Do you want to know what I think of you now?" he asks, clearly amused. I set my pencil down.

"Me?" I ask.

"You," he confirms. I lean back, I have got to hear this.

"Well, start," I say. He leans back too with that same lazy smile and for a second I'm not sure if I want to hear it.

"You, Levi are, based on what I've seen of you since yesterday, a hypocrite and a liar and certainly not a lady like you make yourself out to be," he says coolly. My face flushes.

"What do you mean 'a hypocrite and a liar'?" I ask outraged.

"I mean exactly that, exactly," he says putting emphasis on the word 'exactly'. His lazy smile turns into a smirk, a expression I would very much like to claw off, and settles back into his chair for the second time.

"Would you please enlighten me?" I ask sarcastically again.

"Did you like the book The Red River Runs?" he asks completely off topic. I don't think before answering.

"Yes," I lie. His smirk grows wider.

"And what exactly was your favourite part?" he asks, his hand against his chin in mock thinking.

"Um..." I say averting his question. I hated every part, that's what I wanted to say but everyone else loved it. I will not be the odd one out.

"You hated it didn't you," he laughs. I lift my face and nod shamefully.

"And that's exactly why you're a liar. I knew you hated it the moment you looked up and had that twinge in your eye, you agreed with every word I said about that book. Remember to hide your eyes whenever you lie, people can find the truth from you even before you move your pretty lips, " he says. I pause, I knew I was not pretty. Lewis made it a habit to say that I was beautiful when we were 'going out' and now I know that every word that came out of his mouth was, and still is, a lie.

"Doesn't explain how I'm a hypocrite," I spit out.

"Patience Levi, I'm getting to that. You are a hypocrite because you strike me as the type of person who sets much store upon orginality. Am I right?" he asks, his black eyes dancing. I nod hesitantly.

"Yet you are not original yourself, you follow the crowd. Don't deny it, your opinion on Red River Runs proves that," he says. Good gracious, How does he know so much?

"You don't know me-" I say but he cuts in.

"Not yet Levi, but you interest me. And now I must know all about you," he says.

"You know nothing," I retort, picking up my pencil and pointedly ignoring him. This makes him laugh all the more harder.

"What are you writing about?" he asks, trying to peer at my book upside down. I swipe it away.

"Vampires," I say without thinking again. He bursts out laughing. His real laugh, not the cocky one.

"If you like that all that un-dead stuff then I'm going to have to stop talking to you. Vampires are the absolute worst," he laughs, grasping his stomach. I can't help but crack a smile at him, he looks like a five year-old.

"In all honestly, I hate them too. They're pale and moody and I don't know why everyone else goes crazy for them," I say frustratedly crossing out the previous blurb for my story.

"If you don't like them why are you writing a whole novel on them?" he questions seriously.

"I don't know, everyone likes them I guess," I shrug. He studies me some more.

"Levi, if there's one thing I know it's that you shouldn't compromise your artistic views for anything. Even if you want to write a book on hamsters you write it and no one else should tell you otherwise," he says seriously and the words sink in. Yes, I don't need to write about them, I don't even have to like them. That's the second thing I haven't hated that has come out of his mouth.

I finger my 'I heart vampires' wristband and then fling it off. I most certainly don't 'heart' them. I set scissors against them until they're cut to shreds. I glance up, momentarily forgetting Trent and gazing proudly at my work. Trent just smiles at me broadly.

"I knew there was a freak inside you somewhere," he says. That's it, I hate him. I hate him. I slam my book closed and it, praise God, wipes the cocky expression from his face.

"You just ruined this whole thing," I whisper angrily, "You can call me a hypocrite and a liar because I know you are those things too Trent, don't deny it,  but not a freak. I forbid you from calling me a freak."

"You misunderstand Levi, by calling you a hypocrite and a liar I'm not saying I'm not both of those, because I am. I'm merely pointing them out in you, who seems unaware of your lying and hypocriting qualities. And I think I will call you freak, not because you 'forbid' me from calling you that," he jibes, "but because I quite like the sound of it."

Keep calm Levi, I think. I will not let Trent get me mad again, it gives him more reason to call me names.

"You are the freak," I say quietly.

"I'm not the one denying it," he smiles, "you are."

Screw calm, I think.

"You don't have the right to say stuff like that-"

"Which, again, is hypocritical since you're calling me the exact same stuff."

"I hate you," I say, running out of retorts.

"Lie," he says.

"Truth," I say back.

"No, I don't think that's going to happen. We're alike, wether you like it not, and when people like you and me are this much alike then we're bound to get along," he says.

I glance at the clock, we still have an hour. I don't care how much trouble I'll get in but I'm leaving early. I gather my things and walk to the door.

"Where're you going? We still have a hour of detention left," he says. His hair is flung back and his black eyes are on full display. He knows he's attractive, and he's using it against me. At least I think he's using it against me.

"I don't care, I'm not wasting my hour on you," I say and shoot him one more look of contempt before walking out.

"I knew there was something I liked about you," he yells before I'm completely out of earshot.

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