Broken #2 (The Broken Series - Book #2) Read Online Free PDF

wanted to do was wait
until the last minute to write the bloody thing, or I would be in real trouble.
I could just imagine myself with writer's block, the night before the
assignment was due. That would certainly impress the professor. And writer's
block was real, people, trust me. It had plagued my mind on more than one
occasion. My eyes fluttered closed, and I tried to focus on the things that had
occurred in my life up until that point. There had surely been plenty of highs
and lows in my life. Good times, and also some very sad times. My professor was
always giving us tips when it came to writing in general. She always said to
us, “Write what you know!” I had always thought it was excellent writing
advice. Many writers often struggled when they ventured outside the box and
their stories lacked genuineness. Your true passion for writing often dripped
through the crevices of your existence if you had a solid understanding of that
passion.
    My
mind started drifting to my ex, and how we had originally met. He had stumbled
upon me at the library one day and abruptly sat down at my table. He actually
studied, unlike Jet. The thought made me smile. My ex had apologized for being
rude, but had been looking unsuccessfully for a quiet place to read. He had
been so handsome that it almost hurt for me to look at him. Although we had
both been there for some quiet, we ended up talking for hours. When he left me
his number, and the promise to see me again, I had actually felt an ache at his
absence. Sounded like the prefect love story didn't it? A lot of people would
eat that right up, and for three years it had been just that―perfection.
    What
most people wouldn't expect, however, was the betrayal that came from the man I
loved, and my own best friend. The story could be harsh enough for the movies,
a real blockbuster. But the idea of recreating that story, and having to dig deep
in order to portray the characters correctly would require me to open old
wounds that I didn't want to open. When I thought about it, and all that it
would require, it made me a little depressed, and I nixed the idea immediately.
It could be a compelling drama, but it surely would be a humiliating one for
the lead character. No, it was best to lay that one to rest.
    So
if I wasn't going to write about my ex, who would I
write about? It wasn't long; maybe two to three seconds before Jet came to
mind. He was one of those ruthless bad boys that girls (not me) seemed to swoon over. He was the classic breaker of hearts; eat ‘ em up and then spit ‘ em out.
Could I write a convincing story about him? Sure, I could look at what had
already transpired between us. It really was the perfect story, and I didn't
need to worry about any festering wounds opening back up, because there were no
wounds. I didn't care about him, and he didn't care about me. I could
essentially write a story based off of true events that were happening in my
life right now. It could almost be like a diary.
    I
started scribbling furiously on my pad of paper. I tried to remember facts,
feelings and situations that had occurred between us so far. I was writing so
fast that my hand and wrist started to ache. But I didn't stop. I was on a roll,
and I didn't want to lose momentum. I had an idea, and I was running with it
before I lost it completely.
    Julie
peeked into my room with a towel wrapped around her; wet hair fell messily down
her back. Noticing my furious writing, and my inability to look up at her, she
came into the room and sat down on the edge of my bed to see what I was doing.
    “I
see you figured out your story. I told you that tea would do the trick.”
    I
laughed as I looked up at her.   All I said
to her was, “Jet,” as I continued writing in a frantic manner.
    “Really? Why
would you do that?”
    “Why not?”
    “Isn't
it obvious?” She laughed nervously, not wanting to kill my writing buzz.
    I
stopped writing, and sat up to talk to her. I set my pencil down beside