Little Miss Broken Heart

Lyrica has a dark, troubling past that she doesn't want to think about. She lives on the streets, trying to pretend her old life never existed. But one day, everything changes when a group of people just happen to catch wind of her existence and pick her up off the streets. As she tries to move on with her new life, will her old one come back to haunt her? Harry styles was drugged, kidnapped, and set down one American soil. in his attempt to escape the men who held him hostage he (literally) runs into a girl with white hair, blue eyes, a limp, and a mysterious past she doesn't seem to want anyone to know about. Harry is always up for a challenge. but in his quest to solve the mystery, will he end up shattering Little Miss Broken Heart?


13. Hypothermia


When I could see the Hollywood sign, my spirits lifted tremendously. I loved this city more than any other in the world. The palm trees flew high overhead, and a warm breeze caressed my face and hair as I removed my hat and let it flow down my back.

I looked around. Nice cars were everywhere. Women with spray-tans and sunglasses walked by in heels taller than me. In this city you could erase who you previously were and start a whole new life. That’s what I loved so much. The anonymity of everyone in the city. How you could be anyone you wanted here.

I sat myself down on a rich looking street corner in the middle of the  city and pulled out my guitar and computer. I was able to connect a cord to my guitar with a suction cup, and the cord led to my computer. The speakers on my computer amplified to sounds my guitar made, so people could hear me even farther away.

I played the intro to Found and started singing, memories of every time I played this song rushing back to me. When I sang, I drew the attention of people walking nearby. Some came over and made a semicircle around me, clapping along to the beat.

I found myself enjoying it much more than I did when I played in New York.

When the song ended, everyone around me clapped and money rained into my case. I took my hat off and did a little bow as I was sitting. I then stuffed my hair back into the hat and settled in for my next song.

I got a lot of boos throughout the day. People would try to kick at me and curse at me and tell me to shut up. But so many people were kind, and supportive of a young homeless girl with talent. I made nearly three hundred dollars in just half a day.

Then it was sunset. As people started to head home for the night, people stopped coming by to watch me. But just as I was getting ready to be done with it, I heard footstep running at me. I turned my head just in time to have a man reach down and snatch the small money can I had laying right next to me. Every time I would get a large amount of money in my case I would put it in the can. There was close to three-hundred-fifty dollars in it.

“Hey!” I shouted, halfway standing, but he was too far gone, and Quarra wasn’t here this time to stop him. I sighed, sitting back down. I put my computer and guitar back in their case and stood, going to find a McDonalds for Wi-Fi.

After fifteen minutes of walking I finally found one, and sat down on the bench outside to work.

I opened the news tab and felt my stomach rumble. I had no money left; the man had taken all of it. And the temperature was dropping by the minute. I had no idea it could get this cold in California. I checked the temperature on my computer. 45 degrees and it was only ten o’clock. It was never this cold here, even if it was November.

I shivered and tried to hug my clothes tighter to my body, but it ddint make much of a difference.

Turning my attention back to my laptop I found anew article on the boys. It was talking about how they haven’t gone back to London.

I was getting tired, and the cold was seeping into my bones. I opened my bad and put on s few more layers of clothes, but they were all so light they hardly made any difference at all. I shivered again, and closed my laptop, putting it back in my guitar case.

I laid down on the bench, and pulled my bag of clothes up next to me, curling into a ball. I felt my teeth chattering together, and rubbed my arms together.

I slowly fell asleep, the cold seeping into me.



“Hey!” someone was yelling at me. “Wake up. You can’t sleep here. Get lost.”

I tried to look up, but found I could hardly move. I was no longer shivering, and that was a bad sign. I knew from experience that iwas going through hypothermia.

“Hey, get up. You have to go.”

It hurt to sit up. It hurt to try to pick up my bag, and it was excruciating to try and walk away from that McDonalds. I was a block away when I practically collapsed in the middle of the sidewalk. I dragged myself to the nearest wall and leaned against it, pulling my bag around me.

I was getting scared. I was too cold and I knew it. If I got too cold I could die out here. I have seen it happen way too many times on the street. Someone goes to sleep and they don’t wake up again.

I felt my eyes start to drift closed, and tried to keep them open, but I finally let them slide shut, fully intending to not wake up again.

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