Can I be fixed?

18 year old Claire Seymour is a piece of thin glass at the verge of breaking. She's had her mother taken away because of drug abuse and an absentee father that she hasn't seen since she was three. Now living in the garage of her grandparents' ranch she doesn't think that anything could ever go right for her. Then she meets a boy who's initials are H.E.S. A mysterious boy who she has been emailing and instant messaging for about a month. And when she finds out the truth...


1. I didn't ask for this.

Look, I didn't ask for my life to be the way it is. 

I didn't ask for my mom to get taken away from drug abuse.

I didn't ask to have an absentee father who I haven't seen since I was three. 

I didn't ask to have to live in the garage of my grandparents' ranch. 

No, I didn't ask for any of it. 

I'm Claire Seymour, by the way. 

I have long, wavy brown hair and ice-blue eyes. 

Most of the people at school stare at me when I pass. Not because I'm an outcast, but because the girls are jealous of me and the boys all want to get with me. But I'm not the kind of person to get in a relationship. I'm a thin piece of glass on the verge of breaking. 

One tiny little poke and I could break.

But there is one little light in my world of darkness. 

A mysterious boy, who is alike me in almost every way. 

He knows my name is Claire and I'm 18 and that I live on my grandparents' ranch. 

And I know that his initials are H.E.S and he lives in England and he's 19. 

That's pretty much it about personal stuff. 

We email, IM almost every day. We text sometimes too, when he's travelling. 

But we have never, ever talked on the phone.

Long-distance charges are bad for both of us. 

I don't have any friends at school, but I have a little sister who is 13 and I on't see her a whole lot because she was taken by social services, because two 98 year olds weren't exactly fit to take care of an 18 year old and a 13 year old  on top of that. 

She's allowed to visit every once in a while and we spend a weekend together and I'm happy for those 72 hours. Then I'm back to my old self, hiding in my room, reading or doing homework. Or talking with H.E.S. 

Not many people know about us talking, my sister knows, but I don't get to see her as often as I'd like to and my grandparents don't know and I don't have any friends to share it with, so one person knows. 

Yeah, one person knows about me and H.E.S.

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