Broken

Chapter 1~ Merioka

Merioka, a 16 year old orphan has spent most of her life being bullied by one of her best friends, Lizzie Mordon. Lizzie spent most of her high school year trying to ruin Merioka's life, and she succeeded greatly. Everybody takes Merioka for granted. Tell her to do something, she will do it. She's just a frightened, insecure girl searching for a friend. Her biggest wish is to have someone by her side to hold her waist up because of all the times she crashes; and Merioka gets what she wants. Young Alpha steps into this highschool and Lizzie makes moves. Yeah, Lizzie is attractive, he feels some sparks, but the second he lays eyes on small, pale, white-haired Merioka, he knows. Merioka is going to get what she wants, and sometimes getting what you want can either backfire or go amazingly. But not to forget, Merioka doesn't know how to love, to have a friendship. She's simply a socially awkward girl who doesn't understand. Will he accept her? Or is it going to crash and burn?
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Copyright: Noderivs

Music blasted on my ear as my alarm rose to life. I turned over and slapped my alarm off. I slowly pulled my blanket off, rolling out of bed.

Groaning, I walked to my bathroom. I turned the knob to hot for the bath. "Good morning, Manchester." I murmured, stripping my clothes off. I stared at my naked body.

My snow white hair ran to my waist and my frame was extremely thin and pale. I had wide blue eyes and thin lips. I wasn't popular or pretty. I tried, though.

I am Merioka. I have no last name because I'm a handy dandy orphan and I live in Manchester. Its a beautiful place but almost everybody are jerks. Nobody thinks orphans fit in, which makes no sense at all. Just because we don't have parents doesn't mean we don't have lives, personalities and feelings. I do have a life, it sucks, but its better than nothing. I am fed under a roof with a warm house for winter and a cool house for summer. All the orphans are my friends, even though I am way older. I'm 16 and moving out soon.

I have my own room because we are all split into ages and nobody here are my age. Most kids get adopted from ages 5-12 here. Not me.

Maybe it was the fact that my legs gapped or my arms were severly scarred. Maybe it was because my eyes were too big.. Who knows?

I got in the bath and hugged my knees to my chest. I didn't want to look at myself anymore, didn't want to feel. I didn't want to look at my scarred wrists, my ruined thighs. I didn't want to go to the first day of my Senior year, and I definately didn't want to face Lizzie Mordon and her team. Jessica Sanders, Mandi Amerids, Ashley Hessler, and Lindsay Pummles. It was terrifying. Every day they walked down the hall in their amazingly expensive outfits and their faces are decorated with the finest makeups and they're surrounded by the cutest boys. They have thousands of followers on twitter and instagram and they actually have lives. You know, where you have friends and go to the pier for chips? They actually did that stuff, unlike me. I am like a bear. I hybernate in my room and watch fandoms of gay couples while I slit my wrists and cry to the music Ain't My Last Dance by Five Finger Deathpunch. My life is that boring.

It's not like I'm completely lonely. I have some people on my phone that I talk to. I mean, not everybody is lonely. They have somebody, no matter if they dont know them or if they do. Well, they don't know them in person, that is. I think online friends are just like ones you see almost every day. You know them, you just can't physically meet one unless you, like, meet up. So, in a way, you do know them. Internet friends are better than real friends. I used to have friends.

In fact, my best friend was Lizzie Mordon. When we were younger I used to go to her mansion all the time and we would play dolls. And then we got older and we went to pools and the pier to get chips and we ate breakfast together at caffes. But then middle year came, and schools were combined. All the girls got together and I never was invited to another event again. And she started being harsh and spreading rumors. Lizzie was my best and only friend. She used to be so nice until she met her group, the royal bitches. I don't mean to sound rude, but I really mean it. There is always that group of girls at a school that are totally and unnecessarily rude and uncaring. The ones who spread rumors about you having sex in sixth grade and giving people STDs and how you do stuff and blah. It's all such a blur. Lizzie stopped liking me a week and two days after sixth grade. I guess her new friends convined her that a skinny, pale, white-haired orphan wasnt enough. So everybody else thought that too.

Maybe I could of found new friends, but in sixth year everyone is still finding out who they are and making new friends. People are focused on a new year, good grades. Because the sixth year is important. Everyone is still getting lockers and new instruments and more classes. Their hormones are kicking in and they're focused on boys and the things that they like. Everybody has had friends since they were in first year. Lizzie met me in first year, and we were friends all the way into sixth year. Until her new friends invaded and she had no time for me, whatsoever. Girls think that if you have new friends you have to kick the old one out, but it's the total opposite. You need to cherish your old friends. They are the ones who have photos taped to their mirror and in photo albums. The ones you won teddy bears for and went to theme parks with. The ones where you have pointless all-nighters and then other nights you fall asleep so early you migth as well wake up at four a.m to study for exams. They're the ones who watched every dumb horror films on Netflix and every pointless kid show on Hulu. They are the ones you have fun memories with, sad memories with, and boring memories with. But all those memories were wiped away from me the day Lizzie began all the hate and rumors and deceiving.

I guess it was meant to be, I mean. I would of never discovered the music I like or the good friends on the internet. But she is the one who scarred me. I mean, she made almost everyone in the school way shudder in my wake. Like, I was the queen of STDs. But I went to get a pepsmear, and I don't have a thing. The path is clear. I don't get why Lizzie would want to make my life so miserble. To dump me after almost seven years and not give me a chance to new friends like she did. Whatever Lizzie wants, Lizzie gets. But whatever Merioka wants, Merioka doesnt get. More like, it gets rubbed in her face and people push her into lockers and spit in her face about it. All I want is some attention from someone. Like a friend or a family member or a boyfriend. The family part isn't happening, although I do want to search my family down.

My parents. I want to know why they gave me up and I want to forgive them for it and hug them and cry endless tears. I want to just live with my parents and have holidays with them and make breakfast for them and visit my dad at work. I don't blame my parents for giving me up for adoption. Shit happens, okay? I am a perfect example of that. I mess up, in fact, I'm most likely a mistake. But at least they didn't get an abortion and kill me in the womb. I gotta exit to enter, if ya know what I mean. I guess it wouldn't be that bad to never have been born. I would of never met Lizzie and I would of never felt the blood drip down my legs and my arms. I would of never cried as many tears as I have.

But I would of never heard the songs I have, or drawn the pictures I've drawn or spoke the words I've spoken. I would of never discovered the fair or the mall or seen the lovely adventures of Manchester. I would of never met all the silly and sweet children in the orphanage or met Mrs. Pridephil. God, she was crazy but she was my best friend. I would of never cooken the meals I've cooked, (Which turned out very terribly) Or done the sports I've played. There are so many traits to life but it is so hard to enjoy them when I'm carrying around this goddamn baggage wherever I go. Oh, let's go to the fair. Let me get my baggage. I know I have it I just can't get rid of it. And it makes me so fucking sad! I just wanted to give up so goddamn badly. But yet, there is an ache in my heart that tells me "No, keep going. You'll find something". I don't know what the hell it is, but there is hopefully something to hold onto. A spark of hope maybe?

It feels like a special bond between something that just makes my heart ache. But yet, whenever I slit my wrist, it doesn't hurt my wrists that badly, it hurts my chest and that bond thing. But I dont even know what it is. I guess I'm just chasing red light.

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Hi So sorry for the short chapter. This is my first story so yay! It's probably really awful but do me a favor and point out the errors, judt not too harshly. So yeah, thanks so very much for reading and also the cover background is not me and I wouold just like to give credit to whoever took this photo. xoxo