Broken Angel

“She can paint a pretty picture, but this story has a twist. Her bush is her razor and her canvas is her wrist” – unknown

They say once something is broken, it will never really be whole again. The pieces can be glued back together, but the cracks still show. No matter how much time, effort, love and affection go into the repair, it will never be the same as it once was.

“Broken Angel” follows the life of a girl from the busy streets of London. She has been through her whole life bullied and pushed into the darkness, no one has noticed how broken and close to the edge she is. She teeters on the tips of her toes on the edge of the cliff, ready to fall to the end of her life. However, when a boy from Holmes Chapel falls into her life- literally-, will she turn and run or allow him to help her heal?

“Ballet first, School second, then that garbage you call a boyfriend will come last… Amelia, I know what’s best for you”


2. Chapter Two

I was sat on the hospital bed with my foot propped up on a pillow as the nurse was explaining my x-rays to me. My parents were supposed to be listening as well, but it seems they were more interested in arguing with each other about god knows what this time.


“It’s only a green-stick fracture, so it should heal on its own.” The nurse explained to me as she pointed to the small break in my ankle- talus, scientifically speaking.


“Can I dance?” I ask quietly. My parents stopped arguing to listen to the answer.


The nurse looked at me with sympathetic eyes and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Not for a while. If you dance on this, especially in pointe shoes, you could further the fracture and maybe break it. I suggest staying off of your ankle for six weeks until it has healed properly and then go to a doctor for a follow up and we will see from there.”


I looked to my dad and I could see in his eyes he was disappointed in me. Mum put her hand on my dad’s arm and turned him away from me.


“I’ll go get your crutches and then you can leave” the nurse says as she walks out of the curtain- surrounded room.


Dad immediately comes up to me and leans down. “Don’t worry about what that nurse says, I’m your father, you’re strong and you can work through this.” I nod.


“Crutches means no dance, don.” my mother says glaring into the back of my father’s head. Her arms were crossed and I could see in her eyes she wasn’t in the mood to be messed with. “No. dance.”


The nurse walked back in the room just in time before my parents got into another fight. “Here are your crutches. Let’s see if they’re the right size?” I nod and balance on my left foot as I stand up. The nurse holds onto my arm as I grab onto the crutches and place them under my arms. “Alright?”


“Yes, thanks” I mumble.


The nurse smiles at me before whispering, “I mean it. No dancing” I laugh and nod again. “Alright, you can go. Keep that foot out of your shoes!”


Mum holds the curtain back for me to hop out into the waiting area. “I’ll just go check you out” mum kisses my cheek before walking away.


“Amelia, y-”


My foot was knocked and pain shot through my leg making me wince. I turned my head when I heard a crash. Magazines were thrown everywhere. A gasp escaped my lips when I saw a boy laying on the floor. I must have tripped him accidentally. I pulled my crutches away from my arms and leaned them against the crisp white wall.


“I am so sorry!” I apologise as I kneel down next to the boy and help him pick up his magazines. “I shouldn’t have been standing there with my leg up”


The boy looks up with his unruly curls flopping over his eyes. The boy runs his fingers through his hair before he looks up. His eyes were beautifully grass green with amber streaks throughout. Magical.


I didn’t realise I was staring until my father cleared his throat behind me. “Oh, um… here.” I hand him the magazines I helped pick up. Our fingers lightly brushed as he took them from me.


“Thank you” he smiles standing up and brushing his hands on his jeans before holding it out for me. “I’m harry.”


“Amelia.” I take his hand and stand up, balancing on my left foot. “But I prefer Emmy”


“You have quite the balance there.” He chuckles. I blush, brushing my falling hair from my eyes.




I turned my head to look at my father. He disapproved, he wanted to leave. “Alright, dad”


I turn back to harry almost too fast and lose my balance, but his arm reached out and caught me just in time before I fell to the ground. I quietly thanked his before looking at the magazines. “Oh, uh. These are for a friend. He’s having knee surgery later today” I laugh lifting a few pages from the stack and flipping through it before looking back up to his face, meeting his eyes. Naked women? He tucked the pile under his arm and chuckled. “It’s a joke. He’s, well, he’s pure” I laugh.




“Oh shut up don! Let them talk” I heard my mum exclaim.


Harry reaches behind me and takes my crutches before handing them to me. “Thank you” tucking them under my arms I hop on them once. “You should get back to your friend.”


He nods smiling, showing his deep dimples. “I’ll see you around… maybe”




My mum picks up my bag, I had shoved all of my stuff in there before we left the studio to get my foot checked out. Dad had told me to shake it off and to stand up and do it again, but I couldn’t stand up without the pain shooting through my ankle. Mrs Archer had finally persuaded my dad to take me to the hospital because my ankle looked swollen, and it was.


Mum and dad were arguing about who I was going to go home with, my parents had been divorced for a year and we were still getting used to the sharing me around part. Some days I was with my dad, some days I was with my mum. I spent most of my time with my dad though, mum wasn’t as enthusiastic about ballet as my dad was. Whenever I had classes, I was with dad. Whenever I didn’t, I was with my mum. But I was still expected to train when I was with mum. It’s complicated.


“No dance, means she comes with me, don” my mum argues.


“Who said she won’t be dancing?” dad spits back.


“The nurse” mum seethes. “You will not push her to break her ankle, don”


I sit in the car and push my crutches into the back seat as I strap myself in. my bag was resting at my feet witch created a step to rest my foot on. The nurse had bandaged it up for me, using cloth and securing it with a pin. I looked out the window as my parents finished their conversation. My mum sat in the driver’s side, flipping my dad off before driving off.


“Wanker” she shouts out the window. I laugh.

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