Letters From the Broken

by IAmRyllis

All the most popular kids in school start getting letters from a girl who calls herself 'the broken', leaving them utterly baffled. Who is she, and how does she know so much about each of them? And yet, the broken herself isn't about to tell.

4. Chapter 4

So you look to me with faded eyes

And ask me why oh why you cry

Yet you sit and stare

At the opposite walls so bare

You act like a mirror of fake people you see

It's a wonder, you've been every one freely

But yourself, in a moment of weakness

Dear Hinamori Ami,

H~E~Y! That's spells hey, in case you didn't know. As in a greeting, a synonym for 'Hi' and an antonym for 'Bye'. Just in case you didn't know. After all, I've been told that you are severely lacking in the language arts department. (Okay, from now on, every 'complicated' word will be put into parenthesis so you don't get too confused. You're welcome)

I figure that's because there are no 'English' teachers gone cheerleaders, now are there. I guess that's why you're so stupid and idealistic (dreaming) and self-absorbed (egotistical) : you can't help a stereo-type. You're one of those weak types of people who succumbs (gives in) to the ridiculous (stupid) 'They're a _ so they must be _'s of even more retarded (stupid, again) students of the same school who are stereo-typed into incongruous (absurd) groups of people they aren't even similar to (like).

And then, you ignore people you used to be friends with, because they're too unique (Weird, in your words) to be seen with you and your incredibly barely-tolerable (ordinarily stupid) posse (group of incredibly stupid girls, usually with even more stupid little dogs). And no, I do not mean to say that I hate little dogs. Actually, it seems that they specifically breed 'posse' dogs, which are pretty much the stupidest being in the universe.

Next to you, of course. I know, you were almost incredibly offended. I mean, with that incredible scoff (a ridiculous look that, honestly, only makes you look uglier) on your face, you must've been nearly appalled (disgusted) at that statement. But no. That place is reserved for you.

Alas, I have more important things to do than to continue to insult your stupidity because, frankly, that would take way too much time. Time that I, for one, should be using to do homework (graded work that teachers give students to do at home. Usually for a grade. Also, you should try to finish it sometime, it actually helps you not to fail) right now.

Furthermore (In other news), it seems you have a sister. Gasp (Deep inhale of breath, usually in shock). Shock (Surprise). The horror(You know, that feeling that you get when you realize that you forgot about your lipstick in your backpack, and now it is so smashed that you can't get it out without, wait for it, breaking a nail. Oh no! Whatever shall you do?)! Did you forget about her while staying with your posse?

Did you know that I have a younger sibling, too? That kid, they're my world (my everything, everything important). I don't know what I'd do if they followed in your footsteps (the path of becoming a selfish jerk who only cares about popularity), because I can't spend even on day without their smile.

I shiver (an involuntary action, often showing fear or discomfort or chills) at the thought (an object that brains usually have the ability to create).

The Broken (Family)

I don't ask much

But I ask you this

That if you turn around

In a moment of pain

That you don't know

Who I am

Or what you've done

And all you can do is

Run away

As you've always, always done

I smile at the letter, pulling it into an envelope before pasting a label with our shared last name, Hinamori, on it. Obviously nobody knows that this is a shared name, but I don't necessarily have the need to share this fact to the rest of her school.

My backpack is on the floor near my bedside, but I don't really want to open it up and do my homework. I should, though, reluctantly I pull the bag onto my lap and start on the annoying creation that is the torture called 'homework' so as to deter unaware parents from the horrible truth.

This is going to be a long and annoying night.

~*Morning*~

I run down the stairs ready to go to school before my alarm even rings, but find the house empty.

Today, then? I roll my eyes, seeing my sister's backpack dropped in the middle of the floor, untouched since last night, with a note written on the kitchen counter.

Ami—Practice

Back later

Stuff- Home

I sigh, reading the haphazard note that they'd left me. It seemed like my parents almost forgot to write it, as the pen was practically thrown across the room. I could imagine them yelling to Ami to 'Hurry up before Amu wakes up!' as though my consciousness would really stop them from going.

I know better, though. They couldn't care less if I was waving them up or tied up in a sewer with nothing but wire to keep me there. They'd leave me all the same.

I don't bother eating breakfast, besides a fruit that I grab on my way to the door. Sitting in the car, I don't even bother to turn on the radio, let alone blast the music at deafening volumes.

After all, it's a different kind of silence that stalks me in the car today. Today, it's that kind of silence that follows you no matter where you go no matter what you are planning to do. The kind of silence that just doesn't want you to have a tolerable time, that just seems to be hanging over your shoulder, poking you incessantly as though you were to forget its existence for even a little bit.

And then, just when you're feeling in place, or comfortable in the least, in breathes down your back, whispering 'You're all alone' in the way that gives you no choice but to believe the harsh words. It's not like I don't want to be rid of this silence. It's that noise just doesn't seem to get rid of loneliness. Only people do, and I've always had a problem with those.

I arrive to school right as the bell rings today. This time, what people call rush hour in traffic or, in, high school, 'OMG, get-out-of-the-way-for-the-way-too-unimportant-and-cocky-popular-kids-to-get-through-now!' time.

Needless to say, I try pushing my way through the parting herd of kids. I receive harsh glares as people shove me back but, nonetheless, let me through.

"Rima-CHAN!" As usual, a large herd of fan-boys swoon together as the funny girl herself walks into school. She doesn't even spare them a glance, as she usually does to keep their support, only looking to the floor in an attempt to hide her… are those tears?

No sooner do I see these wonders of the universe than I get shoved straight into her, nearly knocking her over at the force that sent me tumbling.

"Hey! Watch out!"

"Get out of the way!"

"Move you freak!"

Screams bombard my ears, shouting at me for falling into their fragile princess. They screech at me, scream at me, they sound about ready to tear me straight to pieces.

I stand up, looking straight at funny girl with a smile spreading across my face. "Are you okay, Princess?" I can't keep off the sarcastic drawl in my voice, instead grinning at her with my ever-growing smile as she tries to glare back at me without actually looking at my face.

"Of course," she almost stutters, catching herself and masking it with a stumble in her step, causing her fan-boys to scream at me more, not that I pay any attention to their useless banter.

"Then you wouldn't mind me walking you to your next class then, would you?" I tilt my head with the question, daring her to admit that she would rather be alone right now. After all, this is the girl who loves to be followed around by boys so that she doesn't have to carry anything.

She obviously notices this, growling and mumbling under her breath before curtly nodding her head and briskly walking away. "If you can keep up," she calls back to me, already reaching the end of the hallway.

You have no idea, I rush to keep up with her, heading to our first class of the day, History. Not that the funny girl knows that she is in my class. Not that funny girl has ever realized that her classes do not revolve around the useless little pretty girl known as Mashiro Rima.

You have to realize this first, Rima-chan, I think to myself before looking to the board of useless information that I'm about to forget.

"Now class…" Sensei starts off on a lesson about some useless war that, frankly, I couldn't care less about. After all, all the people in it are already dead. Mostly because of said war. They can't really complain if the teacher doesn't teach about the dead anyway.

So, naturally, I just let my mind wander instead. Math is next, isn't it?

Math with Souma Kukai and Hoshina Utau. Oh, joy! Lucky me!

… Someone kill me. Like, now.

~*Math Class*~

"Okay class," the teacher drones with the most annoyingly scratchy voice possible for a seventy-year old teacher to have (even though she herself was only about thirty). "Today you guys will be assigned a group project, and a group."

Collective groans fill the room, students visibly sagging and glaring across the room as if to say 'If I'm stuck with you, I am killing you' before shrinking into their chairs. At the same time, people look to their friends as if betting how different their groups would be, or on what people would be placed with which.

"Souma Kukai," the teacher calls, before looking about the room expectantly to see the girls jumping up in their seats as though that would increase the likelihood of their getting called. Shallow b…

"Hoshina Utau," The many girls visibly sag, boys pushing themselves further into their seats before the teacher looks up, "And one more."

It's a zoo. So many people rocket out of their chairs with stars practically in their eyes, hope causing the room to glow in their expectation.

"Hinamori Amu," I laugh to myself at how very cliché this group is. The guy, the girl he has a crush on, and the girl who happens to be blackmailing the both of them their deepest darkest secrets that they would literally kill me for letting out, if I let them out.

Okay, never mind, not so cliché, I laugh in my head, again.

The teacher finishes the groups, telling us that we'll be working together in class tomorrow, but this and three other days are all we have, so we should probably exchange phone numbers if we are willing to actually work to obtain a good grade on this.

Let's go over the stereo-types here, shall we? The popstar and the jock, neither rumored to be very smart, and the unimportant nobody who, generally, is just unimportant in all things that she does.

Umm, no, sorry unimportant teacher. This is so not happening.

"So," Kukai looks at both of us (Actually, only me, as he seems to be avoiding Utau's gaze) expectantly, "Are we going to exchange emails or what?"

"WHAT?" Utau and I chorus, our shock clearly printed across our faces as he sheepishly scratches at his neck.

"Well, yeah. We don't want to fail this, do we," he flashes us (again, me) a grin before writing two copies of his email on a strip of paper before ripping it in half so we each have a copy. "So, you giving me yours?"

Utau and I look at each other. Imagine that! Tough girl Utau and unimportant me, looking at each other to decide whether or not our group member had officially gone crazy, as he'd just broken a stereo-type that he'd seemed so accustomed to keeping true to.

In the end, we both write down our emails for him and for each other, too, though. However, when we leave class, all memories of the nice encounter are erased with a pointed glare.

And, of course, my remembering that my next class is orchestra, as in string orchestra. As in the only class that I have with Tsukiyomi Ikuto, who I haven't seen for a while because we had been split into separate sections for teaching since the beginning of school.

As in the boy who I'd love to not see again for the rest of my pitiful existence.

As in 'SOMEBODY FLIPPIN HELP ME!'

And here I thought orchestra was fun.

Heh, 38 reviews o-o

THANKS MUCH! And today is Valentine's Day *heart*

As a result of my completely forgetting until now –gets shot-, I say happy V-Day to you people!

And, also, I tell you that if you guys want to, you can PM me or review and I'll have an extra chapter or something of letters from 'The Broken' To you guys!

It doesn't matter who it is: it can be an OC, yourself, or someone you know ;) And I'll write a letter (I honestly don't care what kind of info you give: personality is fine x3)

(Looks at review count) You know what would make me really happy? 50 reviews! :D

That's not to say I won't update if I don't get it, but I'd be really happy to ;)