Fractured Hearts

Chapter 2

My blaring alarm jolts me from sleep, forcing me to reach over to my nightstand and silence the horrid sound.

I rub the sleep from my tired eyes as the bright red numbers blink back at me: 6:00 AM.

Grabbing my water, I gulp it down, hoping to ease the throbbing pain in my head.

I can't even remember what time I finally fell asleep, but it definitely wasn't long ago.

God, please give me strength today.

Still exhausted, I drag myself out of my warm bed and shuffle over to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of my reflection that almost startles me.

Yikes. I look like I just crawled out of a cave.

Brushing aside any negative thoughts, I quickly hop into the shower and go through my simple morning routine.

Now feeling slightly more rejuvenated, I throw on my soft baby blue sweater and a pair of plain jeans.

Though getting the jeans on was a bit of a squeeze.

Maybe I'll just skip breakfast today.

I dab some concealer over the dark circles and redness under my puffy eyes and add some mascara.

Lastly, I gather my long, wavy hair and tie it up, finishing with a blue ribbon wrapped into a bow around my ponytail.

Looking back at my somewhat decent reflection, I make my way downstairs, where I find Mum lying dead asleep on the old, ripped-up couch, looking like she'd been dragged through hell and back.

A pang of pain and guilt tugs at my heart as I fetch her some water, painkillers, and a blanket.

"Please protect mum and guide her through this pain, God," I whisper while carefully covering her with one of my fluffy pink blankets.

After making sure she's okay, I hurry to the kitchen to prepare myself a warm cup of instant coffee.

Somehow, I accidentally half-miss the cup and pour boiling water all over my hand.

"Shoot," I quietly hiss in pain from the scorching burn.

After running my hand under cold water for a few minutes, I grab my on-the-go coffee and head toward the door.

I would have preferred to wait until I was at the cafe, where they have the yummiest caramel lattes with whipped cream, but the need for coffee is a priority right now, even if it's boring and plain.

Before leaving, I glance up at the old clock: 7:30.

Crap, I'm going to be late.

I hurry out into the cold winter morning, half jogging and half speed-walking to the cafe, trying my best to make it there in time.

It's just me and Susan working the morning shift today, and she's relying on me to be there for the opening in only fifteen minutes.

I rush down the mildly busy streets, navigating as I focus on keeping my coffee from spilling all over myself.

Relief washes over me as I round the corner to where the cafe sits, with five minutes still remaining before my shift starts.

The anxiousness of being late lifts off my shoulders, and I instantly relax, allowing me to breathe a little easier.

That's until I slam straight into something tall and solid.

Suddenly, I'm thrown backward, my butt crashing against the cold ground.

The hard concrete stings, and I wince in pain.

What the—

Scrambling to my feet, I'm confused as to what just bulldozed me over.