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”


3. Chapter Three

My mum had quite different values compared to my dad. He always stressed to me that ballet came first, school second and my social life didn’t fit anywhere in between them. But to my mum, I was a teenager, my social life came first which meant I could go out with friends and date boys, go to parties and spend hours on Facebook. Dance meant nothing to her. If I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t do it. But I did, because I didn’t want to disappoint my father.


My school’s formal was coming up and I had no intention of going. There was no doubt all of the girls in my year had dates, no guy had shown an interest in me this year, or the last… or ever really. I didn’t want to be the only one who showed up alone, forced to sit in the back corner for the whole night. I refused to give the whole senior year another thing to push me around about.


But despite all of this… my mum wanted me to go. ‘Look beautiful’ she said. ‘Have fun’ she exclaimed. Apparently this would do me good.


I let mum drag me along to a seamstress. She had her heart set on getting a dress made for me. In her words, ‘with a body like that, any old dress wouldn’t do’. So here I am…


“Mum, any suggestions for the dress?” the seamstress asks. My mum shakes her head, studying the lady’s movements with her fingers placed on her chin. The seamstress measures my waist, hips, arms, height, everything… bust. That one was weird.


Mum looked up and met my gaze in the mirror. “Sexy” she said.


I groan. “Mu-um!”


The two women laugh as my measurements are all written down. “Style of the dress?” she asks looking up to me.


“I really wouldn’t know the first thing about dresses, surprise me, I guess.” I shrug.


The two women laugh again. “Ball gown or low-high would do nicely, thanks” my mum adds. I look at her confused. What were those two styles of dresses?




“You sure? I can come in with you” my mum asks. “You won’t be able to carry it with those crutches, will you?”


I shrug. “I guess.” I look down at my hands gripping onto the wooden crutches and groan. “I think I’ll be fine mum”


I had offered to get the coffees by myself, but mum was unsure if I was able to carry them when my hands were already in use. I wasn’t sure either, but I could manage. Ive always been independent. If anyone offered to help me with something I would kindly decline and do it myself, no matter how hard it was.


I closed the door to the car and hobbled into the café. Couples and friends were sitting in the seats while it rained outside and there was only a few people in the line. I waited as the line quickly got shorter and people walked out of the shop, drinking away in content.


“Hello, just a tea with no milk and no sugar and a coffee with two sugars and extra milk” I smile lightly at the barista.


“Sure thing” she smiles back. “Six pound 50” I handed the money over when I felt a warm presence behind me. I turned around and saw a smiling harry behind me.


“Now, Isn’t this a coincidence” he smiles brightly.


“Harry” I nod before hopping over to the waiting line.


“A tea with no milk or sugar? Hmmm” he presses his lips together while furrowing his eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound very yummy”


“What makes you think the tea is mine?” I laugh. I couldn’t work out what was funnier. The fact that he said yummy like a four year old kid, or the way his face contorted.


“Well you don’t seem like the coffee type, so…”


“Amelia?” the barista calls out. I hop up to the counter and try picking up the tray, but I fail. A large hand reaches out and holds it for me. I smile up at harry and quietly thank him.


“Harry” harry takes his cup as well.


“Well, Mr Styles, you thought wrong.” I say hopping out of the café, harry behind me kindly holding the door open.


“You know who I am…” he chuckles nodding.


“Yes, every teenage girl would be out of their right mind if they didn’t” I giggle. “Is that a problem?”


“No! I just thought you didn’t know who I was.”


The car was only a few meters away and I could see mum staring at us with a gigantic smile on her face as she talked on the phone. I stopped walking and turned to harry. “Not very bright are you?” I smile.


“Hey! Be nice now!” he says. There was a moment of silence before he broke it. “Umm… can I get your number?”


“Maybe some other time, harry” I say taking the tray from his hands. “Thanks again.” I smile hopping over to the car and sitting in.


My mum looks at me smiling widely. “Oh shut it mum.”

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