Broken With Betrayal

Chapter One : Muhammad Hassan Ali

The first chapter of this book! It took me a lot of time to write it down, mainly because this is the first time I’m writing as a ‘boy’ and I kept forgetting it occasionally, due to which, when I re-read the chapter, it had a girlish tinge to it. Hence, I had no other choice but to edit it and re-write it again.

I dedicate this chapter to @mbk264 because she’s one of the best people I’ve come across in my life and on wattpad, with a GREAT potential in her to make things feel as easy and light as they can be. I’m really thankful to you sis for helping me and supporting me in my tough times. I’m glad to have found a sister like you :).

Now, read this chapter, and please don’t forget to vote and leave your comments down there.

Enjoy!

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Chapter One

Muhammad Hassan Ali

 

The alarm buzzed off in my phone, breaking my sleep and making me force my eyes open. My phone showed 6:00 AM. I’m awake and, alive, too. Great, another day. Another stupid day in my really stupid life. Sometimes I wonder what I am living for. I act stupid too, but that’s most of the times.

Pushing back by comforter, I pull myself out of my bed, dragging my five foot something body across the room and making my way among the junk scattered all over to the toilet. I carried my hand upward and clicked the switch. Pushing open the door of the toilet, I frowned. The light was still off. Oh right, I forgot. This isn’t my old house where the middle button was for the light. It’s a new house, with new electrical circuits, and new switches. I switched off the button, which I saw now, was for activating the hot water. Then I tried the right one. There, the energy saver lit up, throwing light on my face. I squinted my eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness as I saw my reflection in the mirror straight ahead of me. My hair was messed up. My eyes sleepy, but, like always, hazel.

 Incredible.

I stared at the boy standing in front of me. Even in this messed up state, how gorgeous he looked. And this gorgeousness was nothing of his, it was hers. It came from her, from my deceased mother. She gave it to me, all of this splendor, then, left me alone. And, that’s one reason why I hate myself.

A sigh escaped my lips. Then shaking my head, I entered the toilet. No Hassan, no such thoughts today. It’s a new day in a new city, in a new school, new people, new teachers, new friends, but the same old you, the same old family.

 After taking a quick shower, I got into my nightie again and walked over to the screen door that opened to a big porch. There are two reasons why I chose this room as mine. It is very vast, enormous, I’ll call it. There’s a small corridor that leads to the toilet, and in this small corridor, there are side cupboards on one side and an empty wall on the other. That, I assume, I could fill with my favorite posters. The other reason was this porch. There were two in the house, one that could be reached to from this room, and the other from my parents’ room downstairs. Although this porch did not give a really welcoming site, all that could be seen were flats and buildings. But still, I liked it. It was really cool and silent, providing a sort of courtyard where I could sit peacefully and paint or sketch.

A cool air hit me with a force as soon as I slid opened the screen door. I walked out on this porch bare-footed. The cold from the concrete floor seeped through my feet sending sudden, but reassuring shivers through my body. I walked over to the balcony and resting my arms on the balustrade, leaned over it to have a full view. The sky was taking on a light blue color as the sun slowly rose from the east. I couldn’t get to see the scene because the porch faced the west, but all the same, it would come useful at sunset.