Don't Try To Fix me I'm not Broken.

^^ Picture Is From Google, It Is Not Me Or Any Of My Friends. Thankss For Reading. (: ^^

I sighed, picking up my iPod and playing the first song that came to mind. Franklin by Paramore. I murmured the words, until I heard a loud bang coming from downstairs. Oh no, not again. I quietly rushed halfway down the stairs so that I could get a clear view of what was happening. It was just as I had thought. My dad was home. I felt tears sting my eyes as I saw my younger brother crouching in a corner, his hands covering his face. I wanted so badly to run to him. To protect him from my drunken father. But my legs wouldn’t work. I saw my dad take a heavy step towards him and lift his fist. I closed my eyes so tight I felt as though I was pushing them to the back of my skull. There was a loud scream, and then silence. The only noises I could hear were my dad’s shoes on the floorboards, the closing of the front door and my quiet whimpers as I sunk to the floor. Why didn’t I help him?

“You’re sure you’re ok?” I asked one more time, dabbing at Collin’s face with antiseptic wipes.

“I’m fourteen, I can look after myself.” he muttered, trying to push my hand away. I raised my eyebrows at him, and continued cleaning his cuts.

“I don’t care how old you are. You’re my little brother, and I’m going to help you.”

He made a face. He hated it when I called him little - seeing as he was taller than me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you.” I muttered, looking at my hands.

“S’kay.” he whispered.

“Not it’s not. I’m an adult, I should be able to stand up for you. And myself. I should’ve done something! I should’ve-”

“Alex!” he cried, taking my hand in his. “There’s nothing you could have done. If you’d have tried to help me, he would’ve just hit you too.”

I smiled slightly, and went back to wiping his face.

This is me. Alexandra. Better known as Alex. I’m 17years old. I go to high school. My mother took an overdose and killed herself. My father gets drunk and abuses my younger brother Collin. The kids at school call me Emo because I self-harmed myself once. They don’t understand. No one does. Except Collin. I don’t have many friends, in fact I don’t have any. But I don’t mind. As long as I have Collin, I’ll be fine.

Another day of self-pity and worry. I thought, as I got in to my car. It was Monday morning and I was on my way to school. It took a good hour to get there and when I did, I stared up at the familiar building and sighed. The same old story. Drive to school, get laughed at, drive home. I opened my car door and jumped out, going smack into a girl with - dyed - blonde hair, massive lips and WAY too much make up. She was wearing tight hot pants and a tank top. Very different to my pink skinny jeans and leopard print t-shirt combo.

“Watch where you’re going, freak!” she yelled, pushing past me. I rolled my eyes. When I eventually got to class - after a about 10 minutes of getting through the crowded hallways - I saw that there was a guy sat at my seat. Great. Someone else to embarrass me.

“Umm, excuse me.” I muttered. He looked up. I was momentarily stunned. He had shockingly beautiful brown eyes and black hair that was slightly covering the top of his right eye.

“Yes?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Well- uh - you’re kinda in my seat.” I almost whispered. I expected him to come at me with some lame ass back chat, but, to my surprise, he looked embarrassed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” he stuttered, jumping up. I was even more stunned by what he was wearing. He also wore skinny jeans - although his were not pink, they were black - and a tight t-shirt reading: ‘To Write Love On Her Arms.’ Wasn’t that a charity?…

“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged.

We stood awkwardly for a second. I decided to get intros out of the way. “I’m Alex by the way.” I stuck out my hand. He shook it, shyly.

“Brendon.” What an awesome name.

“Cool.” More awkward silences. Time for some small talk. “So, I haven’t seen you round…”

“I’m new.” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m surprised they let me in, seeing as it’s already half way through the year.”

“Yeah, you got a lot of catching up to do!” I joked.

He smiled. I liked this kid. He was about the only person - aside from my brother - who didn’t think I was a freak. I noticed an empty seat next to mine.

“Why don’t you sit here?” I offered, pointing to the vacant seat.

“Sure.” he said, sitting down. I did the same and opened my book. I had page upon page of notes. I needed to get good grades, so that I could get a reasonable job and me and my brother could finally move out. Collin worked shifts at a local supermarket, but that wasn’t enough for rent. Brendon leant over and peered at my notes. His eyes widened.

“Wow. You really pay attention, huh?”

I laughed lightly. “Yeah. I kinda need the grades.”

“How come?” he asked. But luckily for me, Mr. White - our teacher - entered the room. I let out a small sigh as Brendon leant back in his seat. This was the first person who would actually talk to me, and I didn’t want to ruin it by him finding out about my screwed up life. I’d just have to keep a little secret away from him. No big deal.

I sat at my ‘usual spot’, under a tree near the football field at lunch. I was well shaded and hidden from any unwanted visitors. I was reading a copy of ‘Jane Eyre’ for an English assignment, when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around, expecting some airhead cheerleader to be standing behind me.

“Oh. Hey Brendon.” I said, greeting him as warmly as possible.

“Hey, Alex. Mind if I sit?”

“No, of course not.” I said, moving my bag to make room.

“Why are you here alone?” he asked, eyeing my book.

“Well, if I’m being completely honest, I’m not very popular round here.” I sighed.

“How come?” Was he really that delusional?

“Think about it Brendon. Look at me, and then look at the thousands of cheerleaders and jocks in this school.” I said, motioning to the field where a number of girls in sweaters and mini skirts were cheering. “I just don’t fit in.”