A/N: Here it is, as promised to any of you who have read my stuff before. Broken. This is just the prologue. But for all of those who don't know about this let me just say this: this fic isn't full of hope. Its not happy. Its as dark as they come, touching on rape, suicide, drugs, gangs, sex, and death; basically all the things our parents wish we didn't know about. Please take this as forewarning.



People pushed and bumped and shoved. White people, hundreds of white people. Pale as a sheet of paper. They moved past him without a look, without acknowledgment. Like he didn't exist. But he liked that. Because then he could listen as they growled foreign words that he couldn't make out and he could stare and never attracted attention and never offend and just listen and hide.

They never noticed when he pulled a pack of cookies off the shelf with clean hands that he washed in the bathroom before all of them got there. Never noticed how he gave careless fascination to them as they went about they're business speaking foreign words. But he'd watch and laugh and eat food he took off the shelf without paying.

They had told him to wait. His mother and father, speaking in the language he could understand said wait. To wait for them, they'd come back.

Some people did stare. The people who worked there gave him funny looks after the third day of seeing him. Some would talk to another person wearing the same vest as they did, indicating them to be co-workers and they would point and say something foreign and then he knew he would have to lay low and he'd hide in the bathroom until it was night and he could find some place to sleep and keep waiting.

They'd be back soon.


It was always cold, but she never felt it. There were always hands, but she never felt them. The squats were always wet and the ground was always hard, but she never felt it. There was always yelling and car horns and panting, but she never heard them. The tracks on her arm were dark and scary and deathlike, but she never saw them.

Night hung over the empty alleyway that led to the latest hole in the wall hideaway that she had found. Lips crept up her neck as they pushed towards the hidden entrance, a door hidden behind the dumpster. Her hand shook and her breath rose in small white gasping puffs, but they noticed neither.

They needed a fix and then they needed each other.

People were already inside. Some passed out, a couple groping in a dark corner and other getting wasted with various stolen beverages. He pushed her past them all, to another room, a darker room, that was silent. He pushed her down, onto a pile of old cushions that may have once been a couch. And without a word he pulled off her shirt and she gave no indication for him to stop as the cold air enveloped her skin.

The needle appeared in his hand as he pressed her against the wall, just before he descended greedy kisses on her neck and just after she was undressed. She took it in shaking hands, but she didn't feel the light plastic in her numb fingers, just his lips across her neck. His painfully hot breath sent goose bumps across her flesh. He pulled back as she moved the syringe against the crook of her arm and she took a sharp breath as it plunged under her skin. Slowly the drugs entered her system and her eyes glazed while he shot up. The room grew suddenly warm as his hands returned to her and roughly stumbled over her body as he pressed into her.

But she felt nothing.


Well, that stupid whore of his sickly little stepsister had done it again. She had gotten him out of another night of family bonding by landing herself in the hospital. Whore.

He had to hand it to her. He owed her for tonight. For this night here alone with the most beautiful girl, swaying under the stars. The cool air wrapped around their bodies, curling their breaths in white clouds. Christmas music chimed in the background as the street stretched empty, inviting and cold. But he needed her and the weather never mattered in her presence.

The shots sounded before the car pulled into view, but they never would have saw it with their lips pressed together, tight and absorbed. He pulled away to a rippling pain, slicing through his back and throwing him to the ground. Everything was like firecrackers, new cords in the Christmas music.

A bone thuggin' Christmas.

He fell. The fourth shot went off, the sound muffled by his own pain and as he hit the floor, another body fell beside him. His breath continued to curl around him, sweating off his lips in harsh gasps and the asphalt scratched his face. Familiar and vacant deep blue eyes stared into his eyes and all he could do was stare back.


Silence is a terrifying thing. In the middle of a silent night, sounds are always amplified to a million times their pitch. The car alarm across the street sounds like it could be right beside her ear. Or every footfall within the silent house could be moving toward her door. Or her breathing, quicken in fear could sound like screaming, pulling the footfalls closer.

In silence it was always dark.

In silence is when he came.

With the exception of the creaking door and the footfalls of his shoes, in silence he would wake her up and in silence was when he would hold her down.

And in silence is when she let him.

'Silent night, holy night…'

The Christmas lights twinkled outside her window, as she laid awake, listening in silence. Blankets piled over her, her body lost within the layers, a huddled form against the midnight cold. In silence she waited.

Was that a footfall? Was that a breath behind her door? Would his hand lay across her face or wrap around her throat.

'Sing alleluia…'

Would she make an effort to scream?

'Sleep in heavenly peace…'


The evening air was warm, but she drew the jacket and its hood around herself tighter. She sweltered underneath it, itching and sweating in the gray fabric that restricted her from breathing and she felt like she was suffocating.

But it was a welcome feeling.

Money weighed down in her pocket, newly acquired from that morning. It was dirty money, based on a dirty living, a part of surviving a dirty existence. Her stomach burned at the smells of the city, a haunting aroma of every food imaginable, swarming all into to one entrancing scent. And when she passed the hot dog vendor on the corner, she couldn't help herself. She bought one.

And now as she stood, wrapped too tight in an airless jacket, the hot dog sat half munched in her hand. She curled up in the back of the train station, just another hooded figure that went unnoticed, lost in the crowd and she enjoyed the anonymity. With a hand on the bulge that was starting to become her abdomen, she pondered her due date and who of the many could be a father. She didn't give it much thought; she'd have it aborted. Instead she turned her attention to the televisions that droned the news about stock market crashes and car crashes that always filled the airways. She was waiting for a specific story, the same one that played everyday, at the same time. The one that made her want to tear the screen from its nailing in the wall and wrap her jacket even tighter until her even breathing became sharp gasps. But she couldn't miss it, or pull herself away, like it was the only indicator left that she was still live.

And then she appeared. A mirror image of herself except older, cleaner and animated. Dramatically tears fell from cold eyes that sat atop surgery stretched cheeks.

'I just want my beautiful daughter back…'

The hot dog lodged in her throat. Dropping the uneaten half to the floor, she stumbled from her seat, pushing passed and pushing into the masses to the bathroom where she shoved her fingers down her throat and emptied the contents of her stomach.

A/N: And there it is. Let me just make a quick disclaimer, I have never been raped, been part of a gang, never been pregnant, been bulimic, been a druggie or abandon. With the exception with a small stint in cutting which may or may not be over, I know nothing of what will appear in this fic. If you see something that looks wrong, tell me. I'm offendingly naïve at times.

Please review. -BoarderKC