Broken Hearts & Lonely Stars(girlxgirl)

Chapter Four: There's No Such Thing as Indestructible

Broken Hearts & Lonely Stars:

Chapter Four: There's No Such Thing as Indestructible 

I just wanted to die.

To let the pain embrace me while blow after blow, cry after cry, took me to the point of feeling nothing at all. I would lie and be the tough, hardcore punk everyone knew me as. I would lie and bring up a fight but as punch and kick went my way, all I could muster up was the cruel words slithering in my mind.

No one wants you not even the Devil himself...

Gray dots danced in my vision as I let my head bow down, my black hair becoming a curtain of protection as the strong grips on my arms tightened as another kick came my way. My breath being knocked out of me as I slumped back, not letting myself to cry over the pain.

Being me sucks right about now...

FIVE HOURS EARLIER...

"Have you talked to Chelsea lately?"

I shook my head as I took out a book from the shelf, uninterested to the very point of reading it. I didn't understand why Johnny led me out of the house to some bookstore if he knows that I found reading as a miserable hell of my own. But it seemed as I watched him glance over his shoulder to the cute cashier with brown waves cascading down her shoulders, framing her oval face as she wore a black collar shirt with khaki pants. From where we stood, I could see her stealing glances towards us mostly to Johnny.

I wouldn't blame her.

Johnny was a fine piece of meat and if I wasn't a lesbian, I would date my best friend and maybe see where things took but I wasn't even close to the liking of guys. That ship had sailed a long time ago and I'm perfectly fine in the cruise of vaginas and boobs, thank you very much. I slipped the book back as I glanced at Johnny who immediately went to chat up with the cute cashier as soon as she left her post. I chuckled as I skimmed through shelf after shelf, not bothering to even give these books a chance until I bumped into a hard chest, stumbling back a couple of steps.

I glanced up, ready to mutter my apology but stopped immediately and gazed into those familiar sea green eyes. Last time I looked into them was the day I said my goodbye to him. How I would enjoy coming home only to be total goofballs with him. How we would prank our eldest sister and laugh like maniacs when she fumed with utter anger. How we would relate to our hatred towards our father and defend one another from the verbal blows of that vile, old man.

He looked different...especially his lovely eyes.

They had a raw emotion of tragedy in them. As if he saw too much he could bear. His black hair wasn't the old, messy way I was used to seeing him with. It was more of a professional way: Slicked back to reveal his handsome face. His strong jaw, his outrageous plugs, his tattoos inked on his neck. He wore a simple Operation Ivy shirt with black jeans and T.U.K's Creepers. He was muscular--far more muscular than the old lean built guy I knew. He was taller than me. While I was five foot eight, he was practically six foot three. I had to crane my neck to look at him and I hated it.

His pink lips twisted into a smirk as he looked me over, his sea green eyes trailing over the tattoos on my arms up my neck. Good thing I was wearing a Misfits shirt that I cut into a wife beater to reveal my tattoos. The beautiful art I willingly inked on my skin.

"Look what the Devil dragged in," his smirk grew even more into a cocky grin as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Last time I checked, Rhea Daniels hates reading."