Mend My Heart: Chapter 1

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Hey guys, Kellie here! So this is the beginning of Mend My Heart! I really hope you guys like it, I'm working really hard on it!

---------------------------------> By the way, I updated a pic of what Jamie looks like! Sorry, the pic isn't perfect, but it will do!

So if you like it, comment, vote and fan! I'd appreciate it!

Thanks! xoxo

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I pulled on my cozy, used-to-be-white snow boots--which, by the way, were now brown--and sloshed my way out the front door, my mom right behind me. The cold wind hit my cheeks and a chill traveled down my spine, making me shiver violently. I was wearing sweats under my jeans, three shirts, a sweater, a jacket, a scarf, gloves, and hat, and I was still freezing my ass off. By the way, I really hate winter, if you couldn't tell.

“Honey, you really should reconsider the car situation,” she said, stepping into the two six inch deep snow, pulling her coat closer to her. “You cannot not drive for the rest of your life. We are going to freeze. ”

I coughed and sniffled, my heart beginning to throb painfully in my chest as I knew what she was going to say, but stayed silent. She went on.

“Sweetheart, it wasn't your fault,” she began cautiously. Here we go again, I thought sarcastically. The not-your-fault speech. I'd heard this speech every single day, multiple times a day even. Ever since that day. And every time I thought I would die from the pain, the heart ache. “The ice wasn't scraped off yet, it was covered in snow, there was no way you could have known, let alone stopp—”

“I should have gone with him!” I shouted. “If I had gone with him, maybe I could have stopped it from happening! Maybe I would have seen the ice!”

The air crackled with tension. Tears welled up in the brims of my eyes, then froze into tiny diamonds as they spilled down my pink, wind-abused cheeks.I quickly wiped them away. My chest ached with sadness and a lump rose in my throat. I stormed down the pathway, onto the side-walk that was now free of snow, mad at my mother for bringing it up. My mom started after me, retreating to an awkward silence.

As soon as I hit the side-walk, my foot connected with a missed patch of ice, and I cried out as I fell backwards, for sure that I had permanently damaged my back. Well how ironic was that? I just slipped on the same thing that killed my boyfriend.

“Oh my God—Jamie! Are you alright?” my mom demanded, helping me up. “Are you okay?

“I'm fine, Mom.” I said.

“Are you sure? Are you hurt?”

“I said I'm fine, Mom!” I snapped. I carefully continued walking on the icy side-walk. My mom sighed and followed.

“Please don't do this,” she said quietly.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Shut me out. You need to let me help you. If you would just talk to me, maybe things wouldn't be so hard.”

I snorted. “I'm not shutting you out. I'm just not letting you in either.” Like that made sense. “Plus, that's what the shrink you hired is for. You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk. To the professional.”

I know, it sounded harsh, but I hadn't intended to hurt my mom's feelings. I was just tired of her treating me like I was a fragile piece of glass. My mom sighed again. We kept walking. I thought the whole way.

For the last three months, my head felt like syrup. But no one could blame me. It's not like I wanted to be depressed. It just happened, you know? I mean, I'm not one of those loser chicks who are depressed because I weigh eighty-two pounds and think I'm fat. Um...no way. I'm proud to say I have a valid reason for the depression: my boyfriend died when I sent him out to go get something from the store. So, yeah, if you lost someone you loved and had to live every day knowing it was your fault that they died, you'd be a bit depressed too. My heart had a hole in it where he belonged, and now that hole was void forever...

And I don't want to hear any of that chemical imbalance bullshit. Finding out your boyfriend of four years was killed in a car accident because you had sent him out to the store, and becoming depressed, has abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with imbalanced chemicals in the brain. Just stating a fact.

I looked up, snapped out of my train of thought by a sudden chilly wind gust, and saw the psychiatrist's office across the street.The brick building was pretty small, with bushes covered with snow out front. Christmas lights still hung off the roof, even though it'd been about a month and a half since Christmas.

Together, my mother and I walked across the new looking brick building.

Inside the warm building, my mother signed me in. She wrote Jamie Joanne Rivers in neat handwriting on the form. After fifteen mintues of waiting, I was called in.

Great. Time to talk to the professional.

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