Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

Chapter One

*Liam's P.O.V*

I watched the rain fall outside my bedroom window. It wasn't anything unusual, it rained 95% of the time here in London. But this time it seemed to match my mood.

I placed my hand against the glass and shivered, 'it's a cold rain,' I thought to myself, watching a single rain drop roll helplessly down the window. I wasn't completely sure if it was the rain that made it so cold out or the fact it was the afternoon and the sun wasn't out all day.

With a sigh I backed away from the window and turned around to see my mom standing at my door watching me. My breath hitched and I just held eye contact with her till she turned and walked away. Quickly I bit my lip, supressing the tears that wanted to fall like the rain outside. I rushed forward and shut my door then slowly slid to the floor and cried.

Ever since my dad died 5 years ago she's been distant. She rarely ever talks to me, and if she does it's no more than five or six words. I haven't heard her say "I love you" to me since his passing. I don't completely blame her, I miss dad too, but she could at least try and keep together.

I swiped at the tear that rolled down my face and stood up, walking to my bedside table. I crouched down and dug till I found what I was looking for. Quickly I walked across my room and into my attached bathroom. It wasn't anything spetacular, just a shower and toilet but it was better than nothing.

My tears slowly halted as I rolled up my left sleeve and began drawing on my skin. Red pouring out where I drew, I watched with fascination as my razor easily split the skin as though it was nothing. I felt calm wash over me and my tears dried as I admired my fresh six cuts. Four of them were deep and I quickly washed them all off and placed a bandaid over them to stop the blood from staining my white long sleeved hoodie.

I glanced up at mirror and regretted it, my flaws jumped out at me reminding me how worthless I was.

"You're so ugly. Look at the mess you call hair, and those brown eyes, ugh, disgusting. Look at that giant nose of yours, it's pratically hanging off your face it's so big. God you're fat, it wouldn't hurt to miss a few meals you know. See those scars? Good, that's the only good thing about you. Know why? It shows your failures."

The words ran all around my head, taunting me and I couldn't supress my sobs that followed. Slowly I fell to the floor, leaving my blade on the counter as I sobbed on the floor.

After some time I pushed myself up, rolled down my sleeve, returned my blade and walked out of my room. I didn't bother saying anything as I slipped on my runners and walked out the door. Mom didn't care where I was going and she probably won't care when she gets the call that her son is dead.

The rain eagerly soaked into my clothes and hair as I walked, my head down and eyes on the sidewalk. A few people passed me, all wearing jackets and carrying umbrellas. I didn't bother to look at them, in a few days they would see me in the newspaper along with every other dead person in Wolverhampton.

I spotted a bridge then and I felt my heart speed up.

'You really gonna do this, Liam?' I asked myself. I didn't wait for the answer as I eagerly walked to the structure and gripped the slippery cold metal frame. I looked down at the rushing water below and the sharp, jagged rocks.
"It all ends here," I whispered to myself, "I'll see you soon, daddy."

I took a step forward and held my breath as I felt myself slowly slip forward, my foot hitting nothing and my body falling forward.

"NO!"

I heard a sharp cry and realized it was mine as something caught my arm. I watched the water slowly pull away from me as something drug me back up onto land.

I fell to my knees as soon as I felt the road beneath me. I sat there for a moment, staring at the gray pavement below me, my confusion deepening.

"What the fuck were you doing?" A voice beside me asked and I glanced over to see a man, probably my age, maybe older, crouched beside me. He had beautiful hazel eyes and black raven feather hair. His lips were smaller, a deep red, almost purple colour because of the cold. He wore a black leather jacket and tight black jeans.

"Trying to end all this." I replied, looking back at the ground.

"Why?" He asked and I couldn't help it as I began sobbing.

Two arms wrapped around me and lifted me, gently guiding me.

"What are you doing?" I choked out.

"Taking you home, which way is it?" He replied.

I quickly reeled out of his grasp, pushing him off, "no no no!" I yelled, "I'm not going back there!"

"Then to my place." His voice was soft and it was everything I had not to run into his arms. I felt weirdly secure with him, but I was determined to keep my walls up.

"No, the only place I'm going is to my death." I snapped, turning and running back to the bridge. Dumb idea.

I only remember running then nothing else, black flooding my mind.