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?

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1. My name is Lyrica

 

Our work as a band started three months ago, and not in one of the places you would expect. In fact, our work started when they found me, on the streets, playing my guitar and singing for money. My name is Lyrica, and I’ve been living on the streets for a while. That is, until they found me.

I was seventeen, and had my guitar, its case open, sitting on the side of a street in New York. I had earned a good amount of money and smiled, looking into my case.

Suddenly, though, a man reached down and grabbed my case, running through the crowd. “Hey!” I yelled, struggling to get up. I took off, limping after him, but there was no way I would catch up.

But just then, he was shoved to the ground. “Don’t move, Asshole.” I heard a girl’s voice shout angrily. I made my way to them and saw a black haired girl with a neon blue streak staring down at the man.

A girl standing next to her, who looked exactly like her minus the blue streak, and with longer hair, picked up my case with all the money in it, and her eyes locked with mine. “Here,” she said. “This is yours.” She held it out to me.

“U-uh, thanks.”

“Beat it, scum.” The first girl said, kicking the guy. After he ran off, she turned to me. “You okay, blondie?”

“I-I’m fine.”

The other girl standing with them stepped forward. She was thin, with light brown hair, and blue eyes. “I’m Irie. The mean one is Quarra, and the nice one is her twin sister, Questa. What’s your name?”

“Uh, Lyrica.”

“Hey, you even have a cool name! Let us take you out to eat, is that okay?” Questa asked.

“Uh, I can’t. I mean, I need to get money, and if I leave my corner, someone else will move in.” I pulled my nearly white hair over to one side of my head.

“Don’t worry, we’ll kick anyone’s ass who tries to take your place.” Quarra said, running her hands through her ear length black hair. Her onyx nose piercing glinted in the sunlight, trying to blind me.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Come on.” Irie said, grabbing my hand. “It’s our treat, plus, we want to talk to you!”

I sighed. Food was hard to come by out here. But I also wasn’t a big fan of going with people I had just met, though. Hmm…food, corner, food, corner.

Food.

Eventually the part of me that wanted food won out over the cautious side of me. “Okay. I’ll come.”

 

 

Half an hour later we were seated in a Red Robin and had our food in front of us. It was the first real food I had had in a while and I started wolfing down my chicken strips.

“Good thing the fries here are bottomless.” Quarra said, sounding disgusted, but when I looked up at her, she had an amused smirk playing on her lips.

Questa, who was sitting next to her, smacked her arm playfully. “Stop that.”

“Well it’s true.” Quarra said.

I sat back a minute later, holding my stomach. I thought I was going to pop. “So, uh, what did you guys want to talk about?”

“Well, we want to get you off the streets.” Irie said, from next to me.

My eyes snapped open. “Crap. You’re all social workers?” I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve spent the past few years running like hell from social workers. “I didn’t think they started this young.” I tensed, looking for exits. I could flip over the back of the booth and be gone in seconds. I braced myself.

“We aren’t social workers.” Irie said. “Sit down.” She pulled on my shirt sleeve and I flopped back into the red leather booth.

“We are actually talent searchers, if you could even say that. We’re in a band called The Gossamer’s Talisman.”

Oh. I had heard of them. I heard some people talking about them a few times, but they weren’t as popular as most bands.

“Our lead singer conveniently quit just before one of our mini-tours started.” Quarra continued. “If I ever see her again you can bet I’ll-”

“Okay.” Questa interrupted. “Anyway. You’re a really good singer, and a great guitar player. We were wondering if you’d want to just come with us for a day or two and try it out. If you don’t like it we’ll just drop you off and you can go back to what you were doing before, no harm done. Plus, you’ll get a couple free meals out of it.”

I thought about it. I didn’t normally like to trust strangers; in my position, it was normally a bad idea. But these people did save my money for me, and my guitar case. Finally, the ‘free meals’ idea was the deal maker for me. For the second time that day. “Okay, I’ll try it. But if I don’t like it, I’m holding you to your promise that you’ll get my corner back for me.”

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