Hey, guys! Queen here!

To all you people who chose of their own free will to come here and read my new story, I thank you so very much. It means a lot to me.

I can't promise that I'll update this all the time. I have the first six or so chapters already written out, so those will go up pretty soon. But I'll try and update at least once every two weeks after those go up.

Please read and review this story; I want to get better at writing. You are the stone on which I sharpen my mind and my writing tools. So please don't hesitate to let me know your feelings!

P.S. Just gonna throw this out here; it's a suggestion, nothing more! If you haven't checked out my other books yet, please do! I promise you won't regret it. ;)

Without further ado, I give you..."To Fix a Broken Heart."

Quick Warning: This book deals with certain darker themes. If you are sensitive to such events, please don't hate me. Read at your own risk.

Prologue

"You stupid girl..."

"Why don't you just kill yourself already? For all of the good that it would do."

"I mean, at least then you'll be filling your proper place. A hole six feet under."

My eyes water, but I blink back the tears. I've heard these insults often enough that their words get in my head, twisting my thoughts and making me wish that I was never born. And they know it, too.

"Hey, idiot. You ignoring me?" Matt Sanders, the most popular jock at Roosevelt High, steps in my way, forcing me to acknowledge him. His group of peroxide-blonde cheerleading girls and the rest of the football team circle around me, keeping me from running and hiding.

"What do you want?" I ask sharply.

"You takin' a tone with me, now?" he says, raising an eyebrow. His eyes glint coldly.

"Just leave me alone. Please."

Matt sneers. "Aw, the freak is gonna cry."

Desperately, I look for a way around Matt and his gang. There isn't one. The cheerleaders are smirking and jeering at me. "Hey, emo girl. You cut your hair yourself? It looks like roadkill."

"That's not the only thing she cuts," another blonde says nastily. "She probably has scars all over her wrists."

Unconsciously, I tug my sleeves farther down on my arms. "Stop," I whisper.

"You on any meds, freak? You should just kill yourself already."

"Please..." My lower lip quivers.

"Go ahead, freak. Cry." Matt grins sadistically.

Without another word, I push through the crowd of students and run down the hall. There words echo after me.

Freak.

Useless.

Pathetic.

A small whimper escapes my mouth as I hide in a little-used janitor's closet. With shaking hands, I pull out a small razor blade from my pocket and press it to my skin, craving relief. As warm, sticky blood trickles down my arm, tears coat my face.

Welcome to my life.

Chapter One: Sam

"Samantha, may I speak with you for a moment?"

I can't disguise my wince as my English teacher, Mr. Hall, calls my name. A few of the students around me snicker and mutter insults.

"I bet she's getting sent to the principal's office."

"Maybe she'll drop out."

"Her grades are lousy, anyway."

"And at least if she does, we won't have to look at her ugly face anymore."

Tears sting at my eyelids, and I swallow, then make my way up to Mr. Hall's desk. "Yes, sir?"

He looks concerned. "Are you all right, Samantha?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Your grades are slipping," he replies. "You're one of the smartest students that I have, Sam. So something must be bothering you. Are your parents okay?'

I want to pour everything out to him. How my dad is a violent drunk, and my mom runs around with other men so she's never home to protect me from my father's anger. How every day, I'm getting closer and closer to the thought of killing myself. But I know that if I do tell him, I'll be sent to live in a foster home or something. I don't have any other family.

If I do tell him, Dad will only beat me more.

"They're fine," I say. The lie rolls right off my tongue, smooth as glass.

"Then there's another reason," Mr. Hall concludes. He leans forward and places his elbows on his desk, pushing up his glasses. "Sam...You need to bring your grades up. If you don't, you won't be able to get into those colleges that you want."

My hands clench into fists inside my sleeves. I know that, too. "Yes, sir. Can I go?"

Mr. Hall sighs. "Yes. But Sam..."

I pause on my way out the door. "Yes?"

"You need to trust someone."

"Yes, sir." With a nod, I leave the classroom, heading for the freedom that waits for me outside. The school hallways are empty for once, which I'm grateful for.

Once I'm outside, I head to the old playground near one of the city's alleyways. No one ever comes here, and I'll have peace and solitude for a few hours, at least. As the cool autumn breeze blows loose strands of hair around my face, my eyes close.

I wake, disoriented, to the darkness of the night. My eyes widen as horror builds within me, and I bolt up off of the old bench. Dad's gonna kill me.

My feet make slapping sounds on the hard concrete sidewalks as I run, trying to make it to my apartment before Dad gets home from his "job." And by job, I mean playing poker with his sleazy friends.

While I'm running, the sky opens and rain begins to pour down, drenching me and my backpack. "Awesome," I mutter. "There's no way this night can get any worse."

And then, because the very universe seems to hate me, it does. Just as I round the corner near my apartment, I run into the local group of Purple Dragons.

Hun sneers. "Hey, sweetheart. You look like you could use some fun."

My hands shake, and I shove them into my pockets. "What do you want, Hun?"

"The money I know you've got."

My eyes widen. The only money I have is a ten, which is crumpled up in my back pocket. And if I don't have that money to give to my dad...it won't be pretty. "I don't have any," I lie.

He knows it, too, because he snaps his fingers and two of his goons shove me up against the brick wall of the alleyway. Hun gets so close to me that I feel his hot breath on my face. "We can either do this the easy way or the hard way, Sam."

In answer, I spit in his face. The glob lands on his cheek, and he wipes it away without a change in expression.

"Hard way it is."

Ten minutes later, I'm limping into my apartment with a black eye and an empty back pocket. When I get into the living room, I find my dad waiting for me.

"Well?" he asks, holding out a hand.

"I don't have it," I tell him, my hands shaking again.

His temper snaps, and he shoves me. "What?"

"I-I don't-"

Dad's hand flies so fast that I don't see it until it connects with my cheek. Pain shoots across my face, and tears well up in my eyes. "Try again."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I got mugged, and-"

"Stupid girl!" he roars, pushing me into the wall. His hands go around my neck, cutting off my air supply. "Useless waste of space!"

I claw at his hand, desperately trying to get air. "P-Please," I croak. "D-Don't..."

With a disgusted look, Dad throws me onto the floor, where I lay gasping for breath. "You're worthless," he mutters. Through my graying vision, I see his boots head down the hall. His bedroom door slams a minute later.

I lay there on the floor in a fetal position for a long time. Eventually, I stumble to my room and crawl out of the window onto the fire escape and up to the roof. Tears course down my face again as I scream, and I bury my head in my knees.

Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth trying anymore.

I've read questions before asking what depression is like. I guess that's what I'm going through now. But what's it like?

Imagine screaming as loud as you can, but no one hears you. No one cares. You're always lonely, always alone, no matter how many people are around you. No one can help you.

It's like dying.

And that's what I'm doing, slowly, day by day. Little pieces of me disappear. I'm lost. I'm broken. And no one is around to hear me scream.

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