Broken Heart (The Broken Heart Series Book 1)

by Angel Rose

  down on the floor. The pain in my shattered heart was too much to bear, and the last thing I remembered was closing my eyes as I screamed.

  I don’t know how long I was out for but as I began to regain consciousness, I could hear Vivian’s voice saying,

  “Place her on the bed. She’ll be all right, please, oh my God,” she whimpered.

  “We have to call an ambulance, Miss, please.” I could hear the panic in his voice.

  “No, no, please, I’ll take care of her, her cousins are on their way, please,” she pleaded with them.

  I opened my eyes, and everything was a blur. The state trooper’s hovering over me, and Vivian is placing cold water on my head with a paper towel made me panic. I looked up at Vivian with my eyes wide open, in shock, confused, and then I realized I was having a panic attack! My heart

  pounded ferociously against my chest. I couldn’t breathe. The pain in my heart was so intense it actually hurt, really hurt. I flailed my arms in the air as I pushed Vivian out of the way to try to

  stand up to catch my breath. I stood in the middle of the room, dazed and confused. Vivian walked towards me and placed her arms around my shoulders.

  “Jen, you have to calm down or they’re going to take you away,” she whispered as she embraced me.

  I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could they be dead? I would never see my parents again? I felt like someone tore my heart out of my body with their bare hands. My stomach was in knots, twisting and turning. I stared at the police officers as they stood still in the middle of the

  room. A deafening silence consumed the room, and the air was tight with despair. I had to compose myself before they took me to the loony bin. The inside of my body was shaking uncontrollably,

  and I just kept staring at the troopers, not knowing what to do next. He did it this time, I said to myself.

  My father. His drinking finally had a consequence, and my poor mother would pay the price. He killed her; he really killed her.

  “Are you okay?” The officer asked as he approached me.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe it…are you sure it’s them? You could’ve made a mistake…please, what happened to them?” I wiped my tears with my trembling hands.

  “I’m sorry…it’s been confirmed. Your number was on the phone ready to be dialed…at least that’s what the EMS worker said when they arrived and pried the cell phone from your mother’s hand. She had to be pulled from the vehicle.”

  “Wait… pulled?” A stabbing pain shot through my heart and soul. My body felt numb.

  “Yes, she was crushed against a pole. Look…I’m sorry…Let me get the sheriff’s department on the phone so they can tell you more. Hold on,” he said as he grabbed his cell phone out of his uniform pocket and dialed the number.

  “Hello. Yeah, Ed…yeah, put Smith on the phone, please. Hold on. Here you go, Miss,” he said as he handed me the cell phone.

  “Hello?” I whispered apprehensively. I listened as my heart thrashed against my chest. My breathing was deep as I lowered the phone away from my ear. I felt like I was moving in slow motion. I handed the trooper his cell phone. I toppled over, holding my stomach, trying to fight

  the incredible urge to vomit while I gagged continuously without end. Vivian grabbed me and led me to the garbage can.

  The Sheriff’s department told me they crashed into a utility pole on the service road around nine-thirty last night. My birthday. Apparently they were on their way to the gas station, but knowing

  my father, it was a pit stop for booze. I was dancing, living it up at a bar, while my mother was crashing head first into a utility pole…she was getting ready to call ME…to wish me a happy birthday! Oh My God!

  “Thank you,” Vivian said as her voice trembled, the tears rolling down her cheeks like a river. She stopped for a moment. She looked pale and a little disoriented.

  “Vivian? Are you okay?” I grabbed her hand.

  “I’m okay…” she whispered.

  I walked over to the bed, grabbed my cell phone, and looked over the missed calls. My aunt Stephanie from Brodheadsville called at ten-thirty, and as I scrolled down at nine twenty-seven it read Mom. I dropped the phone on the floor, and Vivian ran to my side to pick it up. I keeled over

  and threw up on the floor as Vivian rubbed my back gently, trying her best to comfort me. I didn’t know how or where to start picking up the shattered pieces of my heart, of my life. I stared at

  Vivian as she held her hand over her mouth and began to sob, loudly. One of the troopers grabbed a towel that hung from the back of my door and placed it over the contents on the floor.

  “Miss, someone has to identify them and…” he said patiently but was interrupted.

  “I can’t! Don’t you get it, I just can’t!” I yelled “please,” I whispered softly, catching a glimpse of their faces as my swollen eyes flooded with tears, the pain in my heart crushing my chest. I wanted to scream, scream as loud as I could. I couldn’t breathe, and I held my stomach as I sat on the bed.

  “Jen, come here.” Vivian grabbed me and sat me on the chair.

  “Her aunt and cousins are downstairs. We’ll go. Jenesis, we’ll go for you.

  I’ll call Danny to come and stay with you, okay?” Vivian said reassuringly.

  “No, no, don’t leave me Vivian, please, stay with me” I yelled as I held my stomach with my hand. Vivian stepped back. She ran her fingers through her hair, uncertain of what she should do next.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours, I love you. Everything is going to be okay,” she said as she looked at me with agony in her eyes. Vivian led the way as the troopers followed. One of them stopped and walked over to me.

  “I really am sorry. I know how you feel…my parents died tragically like yours, too.” He lifted my chin with his hand, and my eyes met his. He caught me off guard, and I grabbed his arms, and then placed my head against his chest.

  “You’re going to get through this,” he said. I lifted my head up slowly and stared at his sincere, dark brown eyes. He smiled a sorrowful smile, but his eyes told a different story. They were tormented and pained, like mine. I think he was more devastated for me than I was at that moment.

  It must have triggered a heart-wrenching memory for him. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me tightly.

  “You’re going to be fine, trust me,” he whispered, then turned around and walked out of the room.

  I stood there for a moment, speechless, staring at the door that shut behind him. I thought about how my life had changed without warning, within a moment’s notice, without sympathy, without remorse. How she was taken away from me in that moment on this day. I sat on the corner of my

  bed alone in my room. The immeasurable pain that stabbed my heart repeatedly and over seemed endless, and I kept trying to catch my breath, but I was drowning in my own tears. I closed my

  eyes, curled up on the bed, and rocked back and forth, not knowing where to turn or what to do. The door opened slowly, and as I glanced over at the door, Danny walked in hurriedly.

  “Jen, come here! Oh my God! Jen,” he said as he ran to me and grabbed me and held me tight around my neck.

  “Oh My God, Danny! What am I going to do? What am I going to do without her?” I cried, grabbing him hard around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. My God, how did this happen? Why did this happen?

  Danny placed his arm around me as we sat on the bed.

  “I’m here, Jen. I’m so sorry. When Vivian told me, I didn’t know what to do. What can I do, Jen?” his sympathetic eyes watered as he tried to console me.

  “Nothing…there’s nothing we can do.” I leaned my head on his shoulder as I wiped my tears with my sleeve. Danny grabbed the remote and turned on the television to try to keep me occupied. He propped two pillows for me, then we leaned against the headboard. Danny handed me the remote.

  “Here, watch television. It’ll keep your mind occupied,” he said yawn
ing.

  As I flipped through the channels, the news of my parent’s death quickly hit every station in Pennsylvania. Danny fell asleep lying next to me with his mouth open, breathing hard and grunting like a bear, his hands over a pillow planted firmly on his chest. I managed to squint through my

  swollen eyes and get a good look at the crash site. I saw the utility pole they hit keeled over onto the main road with the light busted into a million pieces. The car was smashed like an accordion,

  no room for her to move, no room for her to try to get out. He must have been going a hundred miles per hour.

  They didn’t stand a chance.

  I got up slowly from the bed, so I wouldn’t wake Danny. I started to panic again, and my heart began to race, but this time I felt as if I had gotten hit by a freight train; the pain was unbearable. I could hardly move. I slowly and silently tiptoed across the room towards my desk and sat on top

  of it. I stared out of the window as I adjusted the string on my sweat pants. I needed to loosen them up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. I just sat there in a daze wondering what

  the hell had just happened and what was going to happen next. I didn’t know if I was going crazy or not, but I thought I saw my mother waving at me downstairs from the campus grounds. My

  whole life had ended. My world had turned upside down. My stomach began to twist in knots, and I started to sweat and feel faint. The uncontrollable urge to vomit again rose from the pit of my

  belly to my throat. I leaped off of the desk and placed my head in the garbage can, over and over again. Puking was better than feeling the devastating pain of my mother’s death.

  “Jen, Jen, oh my God! Are you okay?” Vivian asked as she walked through the door leaning over me.

  “Yeah, I’m…better,” I said as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Vivian grabbed me by the waist to help me up and sat me on the edge of the bed.

  “Wake your ass up!” she yelled at Danny as she snatched the pillow resting on his chest. “You’re supposed to be watching her! Why are you sleeping?” she shouted as she smacked him on the side of his head.

  “I fell asleep. She was okay when I fell asleep…Jesus, and you don’t have to hit me.” Danny sat up before feeling Vivian’s wrath again. Her eyes were squinting at him to get up and get out.

  “Just go Danny. Please.”

  “I’m going…I’m going. Jen, I’m sorry about your parents. See you tomorrow?” he said as he looked at me apologetically, then at Vivian.

  “I doubt it. Good night,” she said firmly as she motioned with her hand for him to leave.

  “Jen, everyone was at the hospital. You’re Uncle Pete came and took care of everything. He identified your parents. You don’t have to do anything except make the funeral arrangements.”

  “Funeral arrangements? I can’t do that…”

  “You have to…only you know what your parents wanted. Right?”

  “Yeah, but…I don’t know if I can handle it.” My insides constricted at the thought.

  “I’ll help you…just let me know what I have to do. Right now, you need to get some sleep. Come on, lay down. I’ll sleep right next to you.” Vivian shut the television off and climbed into bed with me. She held my hand tightly and covered me with the blankets. I grabbed my throw blanket and

  tried to inhale the scent, trying to find the bits and pieces left of my mother. I cried myself to sleep as she held me in her arms. I clenched the pillow as I buried my face in it. My uncontrollable sobs

  saturated my pillow with infinite tears. I wish I could press harder against the pillow so I could stop breathing and end the nightmare that was my life.

  ***

  The following couple of days would leave me no room to search for monsters in my closet or underneath my bed, because this time, the monsters were real. They came to get my parents, instead

  of me. We lived in a small town in rural Pennsylvania, and I had to face family I hadn’t seen in years and friends that never kept in touch with my parents; all of the hypocrites, hiding behind the

  façade of their worrisome stares and pouting lips; shaking their heads pretending to feel sorry for me. “Poor girl,” I could hear them saying. “What will she do?”

  As I walked into the church, a newspaper lay on the pew, front page news

  “Car Crashes into utility pole on 209 North; small-town couple killed-Driver was intoxicated.”

  As I walked towards the altar I saw the white orchids that lay across the closed mahogany-colored caskets, and I could hear the whispers in the crowd of how my father could do this to my mother. I kneeled in front of the caskets, lowering my head and whispering the Our Father into my hands

  that gripped my gold rosary. I clenched the rosary tightly as I continued to pray, and at the same time I asked God, why he did this? Why did he take them away from me? I felt a hand on my

  shoulder, turned my head, and looked up to see who it was. It was my Aunt Stephanie. My three cousins were standing behind her crying and staring at me as they held each other’s hands.

  “Aunt Stephanie?” I stood up to give her a hug. She held me closely, then looked at my face and tilted her head to the side, admiring every part of my face. She kissed my forehead and grabbed my hand to get down from the altar. She was dressed in all black and wore a black kerchief tightly

  around her head. Her eyes were dark, and the bags that lay beneath her eyes showed that she had been crying for hours or maybe even days. Her face was filled with sorrow because her sister was

  dead, and I could see that she wanted nothing more than to comfort me, and she did so without falling apart.

  “Jenesis.” The tears flowed from her eyes as she inhaled deeply trying to get enough air to continue to talk. “I’m so sorry. I just…just can’t believe…she’s dead.” She stroked my face gently with the back of her hand.

  “Did you see her?” I asked, looking for any sign in her eyes that would bring me peace…closure.

  “Yes. She’s resting. She’s at peace. So is your father.” Her lips quivered as she held both of my hands in hers. She was shaking and you could see she was ready to breakdown. She always hated my father, Always. I held her by her neck then slid down her body grabbing on to her legs. I felt

  the wind being knocked out of me as I wept uncontrollably. She’s resting…she’s at peace. It totally sent me over the edge. I loved my mother so much…it just couldn’t be true…it couldn’t.

  Aunt Stephanie and my cousins quickly tried to lift me up and place me in the first row of the pews, but they couldn’t. I was limp and crying hysterically, and as they were dragging me they were asking for help from some men that were sitting in the second row. They picked me up, lifted

  me gently, and sat me upright on the pew. The rosary was still clenched in my hands, and I couldn’t sit up. My body was wilted and weak. My cousins sat on either side of me to embrace me so that

  I wouldn’t fall. My heart bled for my mother, and I wanted to miss my father so much, but the only thing I felt when I looked at his casket was complete and total anger. He took away the only friend

  I ever had, trusted, cherished…my mother. I was dying…that’s how I felt…I was dying of the pain…the loneliness…the fact…that he killed her. He. Killed. Her.

  ***

  My parents’ death was too much to endure and returning to the home that we all once shared was even more heart wrenching. As I drove up to the house after the burial, the dried up cornhusks greeted me at the front steps.

  I slowly passed them and gently brushed my hands over their dried edges. I remembered how we placed them there together, and my heart stopped for a moment.

  As I entered the house, I could feel the coldness that lingered within the walls. There was never a feeling of warmth in the living room. That’s where he slept and the feeling of nostalgia only

  brought back disheartening memories that I always wanted to elude. I held my stomach as I walked
through the living room, my heart fluttering quickly, and my breathing erratic, trying to catch up.

  I stared at my mother’s shoes lying seamlessly near the couch, as they had always been, and the open bottle of whiskey that rested sideways, empty, on the table in the middle of the room near a

  fresh batch of white orchids that were huddled tightly in a crystal vase. I glanced at the fireplace where my mother had placed photos of us as a family; she only ever wished we were. I picked up

  the frame that said “Family” and gently kissed my mother’s face as I stared at the photo of my mother, father, and me. I was just born and my father seemed so happy as he held me in his arms.

  The tears slid down my cheeks that were already coarse from crying so much the night before, and I suddenly felt like I couldn’t catch my breath. I wept hysterically, an open mouth cry that ended

  in screams and gags. The memories of sitting on the couch there together once laughing, but mostly crying, as my father slept in his drunken stupor and snored flooded me. I curled up on the couch

  with my knees folded into my stomach. I placed my head against a pillow my mother had crocheted for my father one year for Valentine’s Day. I drifted into a calm but alarming sleep. A sleep that

  made you feel like you were falling through the mattress into eternity. I couldn’t stay awake. The exhaustion was upon me and I could no longer fight it.

  I awoke the next morning with the “Family” frame still in my hands, the glass stained with my dried up tears. I knew in my heart I wouldn’t be able to live in the house for long, but I didn’t know

  when I would be ready to leave. I awoke to a text message from Mike Sacaza, a family friend and our attorney. He had bailed my father out every time he was arrested for disorderly conduct at the

  bars and had represented him in court while he acted like a smart ass in front of the judge. Uncle Mike, as I called him, was coming over this morning to discuss the will. I could barely move, let