05: Broken

"Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome

And I don't feel right when you're gone away." - Seether

Alissa Blake

I still remember the day I fell in love with Holden. It was during recess in our first year of high school. Hidden away in a secluded corner of the courtyard, my headphones muffled the outside world's noise as I focused solely on my notebook.

It was the same worn-out notebook I’d been using for over a year, where I filled even the covers with scribbles. I’d always loved doing that—externalizing the monsters through words. But unlike books or poetry, I preferred creating songs.

Songs without a voice, as singing was never my strong suit. Just the words, and all the incredible combinations I could weave. I was practically invisible, except when someone decided my personality was too annoying or my clothes too shabby for a school like ours.

I didn’t belong in that environment, and I knew it. I never asked anyone to accept me, though they didn’t need to hit me occasionally.

But Holden… oh, Holden was a prince.

He was the kind of guy who turned heads the moment he entered a room. Handsome, popular, rich, charismatic. Exactly the kind of person I avoided. So when he started noticing me, striking up conversations, and trying to get closer, my first instinct was to brace myself for the worst.

"Hey, Alissa," he said, stopping in front of me with that effortless smile. "What are you listening to?"

I barely lifted my eyes enough for him to see just how much I despised him. "None of your business."

He didn’t budge. His smile remained, tinged with an inevitable cynicism. "I’m a musician, you know. So yeah, it is my business," he said smugly, sitting down beside me.

"Oh, really? Never heard you on the radio," I shot back, deliberately cruel. But no matter what I said, he didn’t take the hint—or maybe he was too confident to be fazed by my insults.

I despised him for pretending to care. It had to be some cruel joke.

But he persisted, and even declared, "One day, you’ll hear me, Alissa. I’m going to be famous, mark my words! Holden Young, rock star!" He mimed a marquee in the air with his name, grinning broadly, his green eyes gleaming as if he could already see it.

The bastard kept his promise, too.

It didn’t matter which channel I turned to—American media was utterly captivated by Holden Young. I had sworn his fame would remain confined to the UK, but no, the phenomenon was real.

We’d spent enough time together as teenagers for me to know the talent he possessed. With the money his parents shelled out to make him the perfect son, there was no way he could fail.

What was odd was how I was being dragged into the equation, even against my will.

It wasn’t easy sending Holden away, saying all those things. I just wanted to push him and back, make him understand that we didn’t belong in the same world.

I guess I forgot who I was dealing with.

"For God’s sake, you look like a burglar!" I whispered the moment he entered the room. My ribs nearly jumped out of my chest as I sat up, startled.

"Don’t flatter yourself. I’m risking my reputation just to see you," he said, pulling down the mask and flashing that sinful smile of his. Heaven help me. "You can thank me now."

"Great. Thanks. You can leave now."

He ignored my suggestion, as always. Sitting down in the chair beside me, he pulled out a deck of cards. There was only one problem—I didn’t know how to play. So he just attempted some pathetic magic tricks and somehow made me laugh.

I felt a lot of pain that afternoon, but it was nice not to be alone for a change.

In the visits that followed, Holden kept getting more creative. Once, he showed up dressed as a food delivery guy, holding a bag that contained… a suspicious burger and cold fries. I almost asked if he’d gotten it from that jerk Fred.

"Figured you could use something better than hospital soup," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Not sure how safe it is, though," I replied, mouth full of fries, betraying my hypocrisy.

"Make the most of our minutes, Alissa Blake," he said, regretting the second bite of the burger. He’d have to settle for the fries.

I laughed, though I was curious about why he always seemed to be in such a rush. "Being famous and all that doesn’t make you the king of the world?" I asked, watching him devour the fries like a starving man.

He gave a crooked smile, staring at the floor while playing with the fries. "Yeah, I thought that too." His somber expression worried me, but I didn’t want to dig deeper. You didn’t have to be a genius to know he’d soon find something to distract him, forgetting all about the poor girl he liked as a teenager.

"It’s like being a dog on a leash," he laughed. Holden never took offense at what I said, and it reminded me of how well we used to get along.

I didn’t like feeling that way.

"My contracts are the leash, and Cyrus is holding the lead. But it’s just a phase," he said, smiling that smile I couldn’t hold his gaze against for too long.

"You seem pretty convinced of that, but if it makes you happy," I said, though my words came out colder than I’d intended. The truth was hard to ignore.

He leaned back in the chair, his green eyes locking onto mine with a fatal magnetism. "What do you suggest, Ali? That I quit everything and go back to performing in the park?" The smile that appeared on his face didn’t suggest joy.

Well, not everything I said landed well. The melancholy in his voice hit me harder than it should have.

"The silly boy with a guitar, who played serenades and accepted coins despite being rich, was free," I admitted.

"The silly boy had you," he whispered, setting the wrapper aside.

He didn’t stop there, not even after that. He stayed, and I didn’t know why.

"Just tell me already," Holden said, impatient for the first time. "Why did you leave?"

I turned my gaze to the side, but I could feel his presence pulling me back like a magnet. "It just happened. You know how my parents were."

"That’s a lie." Holden didn’t back down. "Don’t you see? No matter what you say, you won’t push me away."

I let out a bitter laugh. He had no idea. "Ignorance is bliss, Holden."

He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You don’t know how much I blamed myself. All these years, I kept wondering what I could’ve done to make you leave, and even now, you can’t tell me."

The pain in his voice was almost tangible, and that’s what made me relent. Because maybe he deserved to know.

I looked at him, my voice nearly faltering. A knot tightened in my throat, and the more his hopeful eyes studied me, the more terrified I felt.

And then, just as I prepared to start the story, a man entered the room. I recognized him from that night, and though he said nothing, Holden had already told me he was paying off the hospital debt. So I didn’t care that he didn’t give a damn—one less debt to worry about.

"Time’s up. We have an interview," he said curtly before leaving with a barely noticeable nod.

"I’ll be back tomorrow. Then we’ll talk, okay?" Holden put on his cap and leaned in. As I handed him his wallet, which had been left by the bed, his hand brushed mine in a sudden motion.

Unlike before, I didn’t feel that spark hit me. A magical touch between our hands, something full of passion. I pulled away, and I hated myself for it.

But even if he manages to get me to explain why I left, I'm not ready to tell him my whole story. At least I'll have time to figure out how to tell him the whole mess. He said that he would be back tomorrow, but tomorrow I won't be here anymore.

Maybe that's for the best. Some goodbyes are easier when they don't happen.