Broken Crystals

When Crystal collapses in the middle of the road after another beating, headlights are the last thing she sees. She wakes up in a strange house, surrounded by five strange boys. She refuses to relax around them or be herself. But can the one Irish boy with the beautiful blue eyes show her what it means to be loved and fix her cracks?


1. Headlights

I prod my stomach and thighs in the mirror, gagging at what I see. All that fat. I despised it. I sigh and pull my clothes back on, four sizes too big. I wanted to hide my fat body. To stop people from seeing me. I pull my messy blonde hair in to a bun on the top of my head and secure it with a hair band. I slick on a little make-up and pull on my bracelets. I pull the arms of my jumper over my hands to try and hide the scars and huge bruises. I trudge down the stairs and crane my neck to listen to the house. Quiet. I stay silent as I take a seat at the kitchen table. I fiddle with my bony fingers and pick at my withered nails. My brain craves for food but I don't give in. I hear a pounding on the door and my heart hammers in my chest.


He was home.


“Where is the little brat?!” His voice booms through the house and I shake with fear. I bite my tongue, the iron taste of blood seeping through. I don't dare answer him.

“Come here,” He growls like a predator, his eyes bleary and bloodshot. I cower aware, trying to appear smaller.

“I'm sorry, Daddy.” I say, looking down. I have nothing to apologise for but I do anyway.

“It's your fault! It's always been your fault!” He roars. He's talking about my mother's death. He blames me. Most of the time I blame myself. He picks me up by the scruff of my jumper, flinging me across the room. I cry out in pain as tears roll down my cheeks. He towers above me but I can't make him out, my vision is too blurred.

“All,” He kicks me in the side.

“Your,” Another kick.

“Fault.” Another.

The kicks and punches go on until I can't scream anymore.


I regain consciousness, my eyes dry from tears. My throat is parched and my stomach rumbles. My whole body aches, my muscles screaming in pain. I try to sit up, but I can't. I lay like that for a long time. Hours. I finally muster up enough strength to stand up but I soon fall to the ground. I crawl on my hands and knees to the bathroom and lean against the toilet. Then I spew up.

The bitter taste of bile fills my mouth and I run my tongue across my teeth, gagging once more.

Fat. My father's voice rings in my ears.

Ugly. Stupid and Pathetic.


Hide yourself, no one wants to see your fat body.



Stop it!” I scream, tears escaping. The house remains silent and I pray to God that the abusive man who is my father has gone out. I crawl through the house and out in to the dark night. I don't care if I die getting out of there. I have to leave. I have to find help. My knees burn from the gravel but the hunger drowns out my pain. A pair of blinding lights confuse my vision and I flop to the floor at the sound of screeching brakes. 

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