The Broken Hearts Club

Part 1

Two words interrupted my nightly routine: Come Quickly.

Ordinarily, I wouldn't leave the house on a pitch-black night like this, when the pollution blocks out the stars and the moon is still new. I'd only leave the house in an emergency, and if Ann Mistress is the one sending it, I know it has to be important.

The town is eerie at night when all the shops are closed and empty, and the old streetlamps, if not along Main Street, flicker and cast a dim blue light along the cobblestone roads. My heels click harshly against the uneven roads and echo against the mismatched buildings. Book End might have been pretty before I was born, before the spoiled brats at Ever After High moved in, demanding to tear down the buildings built by hand nearly three hundred years ago so they could have coffee shops and VIP high fashion stores. Now it's an eclectic mess of architecture from every time period, set against a medieval backdrop, not even bothering to redo the cobblestone with concrete or asphalt. And not that Book End was a safe place to be back then--we don't have so many slaves, and dysentery isn't an issue, but the drunkards and rapists haven't left. It's not safe to be a girl out during the witching hour, when the bars closed an hour ago, and the cover of darkness has set in.

I curse myself for being such an insomniac. I should have gone to bed with the sun but love and heartbreak don't sleep. At the very least, however, I should have brought my winter jacket. Everyone knows that when the veil between life and death is at its thinnest, the cold sets in. Instead, I'm wearing the dress I threw in the dirty clothes hamper two hours ago with a blazer I outgrew years ago and kept around pretending it was supposed to be cropped with three quarter sleeves and thus fashionable.

Cold air stings my lungs as I take one last deep breath before stepping into the pitch-black alley that leads to Ann's barn but more often than not invites unwanted guests. I walk slowly between the buildings with one hand along the wooden walls. The corridor smells like human feces, but I make it to the other side without incident.

Soft candlelight pours out of the windows of the Mistress Barn. Nearly a decade ago, the Mistress household went completely bankrupt. The livestock they owned all starved to death, and the barn behind their little apartment that they owned went unused. Unused until a boy entered their teenage daughter's life. Or more like exited. It remained unused while she was still head-over-heels for him, and now that her heart's been violently ripped from her chest and smeared for everyone to see, it's in use again, but for a livestock of a different kind. Girls. Don't worry, they come and go of their own accord; the building was repurposed as the headquarters of the Broken Hearts Club, a safe haven for all girls who've had their hearts broken, but specifically by the same boy.

I push the rough barn door open ajar, and another girl's hands reach out, grabbing me by the jacket, pulling me into the barn. "Julia," she says, shaking me a bit. I recognize her as Kat Yvette with her short frizzy black hair and dark complexion that boasts her bright green eyes. "We're so glad you're here. Come quickly."

I hear sobbing. Never a good sign.

Kat shoves the door closed behind me and places one of her rough hands on my back, guiding me forward. All of the girls are huddled in the middle of the room as though it's not already the witching hour and we all should have been in bed, asleep, hours ago. They all murmur amongst themselves as a whimpering sob radiates from the center of the ring.

"Julia's here!" Kat announces, pushing me forward into the crowd. 

All the girls move as one, reaching out to touch me, gently guiding me to the center as they say, "Oh Julia, we have another one," or "Thank fuck you're here," or "She needs your help," or something of the sort. Their hushed voices sounding just as sad as the crying girl ahead.