Bella is completely broken. Her past has crushed her hope for the future, for everything. Stuck in a place where no one cared, she's now stuck in a place where no one knows. She's an outcast, she's lost, and she wants to just give up. All she needs is help, but that's exactly what she doesn't want.
Edward is the high school king. The player, the jock, the 'guy'. He get's all the girls, and all the girls want him. From the outside, he's perfect. But on the inside, he's just a lost boy. He needs love, but he just doesn't know it.
I do not own these characters. Stephenie Meyer owns everything.
I own nothing but the story line. No copyright infringement intended.
The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight.
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time.
I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts.
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out...
Broken - Lifehouse.
Preface - Broken.
It's something that everyone feels at least once in their life. Whether it be physical or emotional. Whether it be the pain of breaking up with your boyfriend who cheated on you, or whether it be the pain of a baby who is being pushed out of a hole that is way too small to think possible. It comes in all forms. Some little, some big. Sometimes it makes a big effect on people's lives, other times it just disappears like an ant being stepped on. And sometimes it just sits there. It just lurks.
People have different ways to deal with it. Crying. Self-harming. Counselling. Faking smiles. Pretending to be happy. And those people, most of them don't want to admit it, they don't want to admit the fact that they need help. They don't want help. And they bury them self into this delusional thought that they're fine, but they're not. And everyone but them can see.
I've felt pain. That dull ache that lives in me 24/7. Yeah, I feel it a heck of a lot.
From the outside we're just the same, we're all just human beings all the same. But the truth is, we aren't. You see, we all have different stories, we all have different reasons. We come from different continents, different countries, we're all different ages and different races. Some of us have boobs and wear make-up, some of us have six-packs and wear boxers. Some of us grow up in gated communities with lots of money, others of us grow up in rented flats with hardly any. We're all human and most of the time we just think that we're all the same. But we're not. We're all completely different.
We all have our own story.
So here's mine.
Chapters will be longer.