Broken: A Story of Healing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story about a teen girl overcoming her depression and suicide attempt.

Submitted: August 01, 2012

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Submitted: August 01, 2012

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Broken by Victoria J.

*Fade in* A young girl, about 13 years of age, is sitting in her bed with a small metal object in her hand. It is a Hurdy Gurdy, similar to a music box without the box. She slowly turns the handle and \"America the Beutiful\" starts to play. The music stops abruptly and a small tear runs down the girl's face. She drops the object and cries harder. Her tears are plentiful, yet no sound escapes through her lips. She had learned not to make a sound ever since her parents had taken the handles off of her door, allowing swift immeadiate access to her room at any needed time. \"They think I'm crazy,\" she thought to herself. \"Why even have a second child when the first one is so perfect?\" Sometimes, she believed her parents had wished she had been able to go through with it. At least they would still have their perfect son. She could've done it; she would have been gone by now if her hero brother hadn't swooped in and saved the day. She tugged down on her sleeve; why should she be reminded of failed attempts? Her room felt barren and desolate after they had taken away anything she could use, even her journals -- the only thing keeping her sane. Now they wanted her to see a therapist, as if lying on a couch and talking to someone about her problems will instantly make them vanish. As if everything will go back to the way things were when she was \"okay\". Except, she was never \"okay\", and now she had only made it worse. Nobody trusted her. She didn't even trust herself. Why couldn't people just tell her the truth? Do they think refering to her as \"unstable\" behind her back is going to help? The girl rolled onto her stomach as she shoved her face into the pillow. She may have been able to control them before, but there was no way she could hold back the sobs now. *Fade out*

Three years later

*Fade in*

It's the same girl, except she looks entirely different. Instead of tears she has a shy smile taped onto her face.It was her 16th birthday and she was preparing to get her drivers license. It seems to be a joyous occasion, but deep down you can sense the fauxness of her smile. She had not made any more attemots and her life was finally looking up. Her parents were beginning to trust her again and the every other day visits to the therapist had shrunken down to weekly visits. Yet, the biggest shock was that her therapist had suggest driving lessons a few months prior. She had thought the girl was ready. So, her whole family had supported her until it had finally come to be the day of the test. She passed her test with flying colors. The instructor had gone inside for a moment. The girl glanced up at the mirror. Her life was good and she had all that she could have asked for, yet as she looked into her own gray eyes, she realized that she was still broken. She always would be shattered on the inside and no one or nothing could fix that. She pulled up her sleeve and traced the familiar lines on her wrists. She had made a promise, not only to her family and therapist, but to herslef as well, to never go back. Today would not be the day she would break that promise. When she was done and had a brand new license in her hand, she stared at it. Was that grinning girl really her? She was supposed to drive immeadiately home, but she had to make one important detour. The girl drove until she reached a small park, hidden deep in the thick woods. Her parents had brought her and her brother here mant a times when they were little. Not only had she changed, but the tiny playground had changed as well. The once beloved swingset was abandonded and rusting away, the shed overflowing with balls and games had been locked up, and the beaten down path to the creek was hidden by overgrown weeds, invisible to those who didn't know where it was by heart. The girl knew the parks story, for it was similar to her own. She understood that the suffering and loss that it had gone through was unbearable. The playground looked as if it were going to collapse and give up at any given moment. She walked over to the spot where the path started and pushed away the weeds and branches blocking its entrance. She knew the quick walk to the bubbling creek as if it were all in her head and walked until she heard the familiar, soothing sound of rushing water. Yet, it never came. She arrived at the creekbed only to find that it had dried up. All of the water and life drained out from its haven of rest. She sat down on the side and closed her eyes. She recalled one particular memory she was quite fond of. It had been one of her last visits to the creek. She pictured her feet splashing in the cool water as she sat in that very spot. The younger her smiled and laughed because of the way her big brother was making a spectacle of himself trying to catch a fish with his bare hands. She took it all in, the warm sun beating down on her back, the cool water rushing inbetween her toes, the soft, green grass she sat on. Then, she opened her eyes to the dreary reality she would eventually have to face, but she smiled at that memory, a real, genuine smile. Right then, she knew that even though the scars on her arms might never heal, the wounds in her heart eventually would.


© Copyright 2017 VictoriaJ. All rights reserved.

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