We are the Broken Series



Hey all,


We are the Broken Series will be a collection of fictional stories that will be made to empower you.  If you like what you read let me know and head over to Patreon to support me.


This story is a work in progress so I would love to hear your feedback or even add-in some ideas that you have. Contact me by filling out the form below.  Thanks!


” The broken are the more evolved”




Here I am again lying in bed.  I’ve been here for days and no ones come to check in on me.  But even if they did I wouldn’t tell them the truth.


“There’s nothing wrong” I would say.


“I’m just tired.” Which is true. I am tired.


I haven’t slept in days.  You see how that works.  Tired but can’t sleep.  I can feel it bubbling up inside me.  Unsure of what it is, I just lay here and do nothing.  I’m sure you can relate.  It feels like something is going to come out of my chest.  My heart, my lungs, my rib cage, it’s all trying to escape.  A pressure, unlike anything I’ve ever felt.  That’s the physical part though.  The emotions are what really concerns me.  I feel nothing.  Sadness, anger and most of all Joy.  Shouldn’t I be able to feel something?


“You’re worthless”


Don’t get the wrong idea.  I’m here alone and I wasn’t the one that said that.  That voice came from the inside of my head.  It’s not very nice as you may be able to tell.  It often says mean things.  Pay it no mind.  I try not to.  I have a much more pleasant voice that I sometimes hear but I guess it’s asleep just about now and has been for some time now.


Jealousy.  That’s what I should be feeling at the notion of sleeping. Though I cant’ seem to produce that sensation.


So I just lay here.


I hear the sound of “let it go” coming from my nightstand and reach for my phone.  It’s an incoming text message from my brother Corey.  This is weird, I never hear from him.  He’s a douche bag.  The popular jock in college that hates his older sibling.


Once I open the message time shifts.  It reads only two words.


Carla’s Dead.  I paused.


Carla’s my mom.  Mom.  Mom.  My mom is dead.


I didn’t text him back for more details, I knew he wouldn’t give me any.  He never cared much for her anyway.  See, my mom is not his mom.  We just have the same dad.


Moms Dead.


This is it.  The end of me.  I can feel it now.  It’s not bubbling anymore, it feels like an eruption.  My mom was it for me.  She was all I had.  This is what gets me out of bed.  But I can’t go any further than that.  I just stand there in a daze.  My breath becomes shallow. Suffocation is the feeling that is evoked.  What a great time for a panic attack.  It can’t get any better than this.


I surprise myself when I flipped the mattress in a swift fit of anger.  Everything else after that comes much like a vision of what was to come.  I can see it in my head before its done.  The nightstand goes flying out the window.  Clothes are ripped from the closet, shedding everywhere around me.  What’s next?  The kitchen.  Pots and pans make a considerable amount of noises landing on the floor, in the sink and hitting the stove, cracking it.  After that, the bathroom.  Drawers are pulled out, the shower curtain ripped from the pole. I wanted to tear down this whole place, my unwanted fortress of solitude and make it look like how I feel.


How ironic.  I can feel now.


Looking at my reflection in the bathrooms’ mirror, I see what is not my own face.  This person scares me.


Yet another feeling.  Fear.


I can no longer look at this person.  Crashing my palm into the unknown face I shattered the mirror.


“You’re undeserving of this life.  Look at how you’ve let it rot away.  Pick it up and end it” the voice required of me.


That voice again.  It’s beating into my skull telling me these horrible things.


I looked down in the sink and pick it up.  I’m sure you can figure out what it is, don’t make me have to say it.  It sliced through my tender flesh, the edges so keen.  Blood oozed between the webs of my fingers running down my knuckles.  These feelings are overtaking me.  Just a few moments ago I would’ve done anything just to feel something.  It’s by far too much.  I brought my hand down swiftly as to make it as effortless as possible.


It was undemanding.  It was blissful.  It was completely wrong.  It’s not what I want at all.  My life is bleeding far to fast.  That feeling I feel, I can only describe it as being broken.


Chapter One


A tidal wave of air rushed back into my lungs.  I was aware of what I had done immediately.  As I take an assessment of myself, I noticed a few things.  One, I was on the floor.  Which means that I’d fainted. Two, the floor beneath my fingers felt sticky. And the third thing I felt was elation.