unbreak the broken ✘ shawn hunter (BMW)

PROLOGUE

Welcome to Pink Flamingo Trailer Park; home of the broke and the broken.

I've lived here for 5 years now. I used to live in a house with a bathroom bigger than 6' by 6' and was unable to hear the cars passing on the freeway. Unfortunately, after spending 9 years of my life there, we uprooted and landed in this trailer that leaves me with nothing but haunting memories that will stay burned in my head for eternity.

My name's Ophelia Everly Bell, I'm 14-years-old and I live my life hiding; hiding my emotions, hiding my bruises, and hiding from my Dad.

At 9-years-old, my Mom passed away. A year earlier, she was told she had a brain tumor and although operable, she was scared. Eventually, she decided to get the surgery. Her tumor advanced- Mom died two hours into the surgery.

Before she went into surgery, Mom said one last thing. "Take care of your father for me, he won't survive without you." She got wheeled through the doors to the operating room and left her words burned into my brain. Sorry to break it to you Mom, but I don't think I will survive with him.

I'm currently shuffling through my album full of polaroid pictures I've taken over the years.

Taking pictures is one of my hobbies. If I can't find the beautiful in my life, at least I can capture moments of things I find beautiful in others lives.

My room consists of a bed and a desk, with a small closet in front of my bed. The fun part? I don't have to take more than one step to get from my door to my bed...or my desk... or my closet.

Our trailer is slightly bigger than some of our neighbors. We have two bedrooms in it, a small living area with a couch and small television, and a bathroom. For our accessories, we have beer bottles scattered around and cigarette butts placed strategically everywhere.

We moved to this lovely trailer park because my Dad couldn't stand being in the house that he once shared with the light of his life. That, and the fact that we were living on half the salary and most of Dad's money was being spent on alcohol that "takes the pain away."

After Mom's passing, Dad got really depressed. He was barely home, showing up to work only when he felt like it and acting as if I didn't exist. I guess I would prefer that.

Mom left us a ton of money after she passed. Her family was wealthy and so when she passed, we got all of her inheritance. Why we're living in the trailer? Dad says that we need nothing more. Really its because he needed to make sure he had a house after spending all of his money on liquor.

The sound of the door slamming makes me jump. With a sigh and an eye roll, I put my Polaroids in my desk drawer.

"Right on time." I whisper to myself.

"Ophelia." I hear my father shout. I don't answer. "OPHELIA."

"Coming, you grumpy douche," I mumble. This is gonna be a long night. I open my door and slowly exit my room. He's drunk at 7:45 PM on a Tuesday.

"Yes?"

Keith turns around, a half empty beer bottle in his hand. "I just came back from the casino. Lost $2,000. You're gonna need to lend me some cash this month."

I nod, this happens every month. When Dad started getting bad, I took around $50k from my inheritance and kept it in my room. I'm down to around $23k left after all of the times Keith has asked for money.

"Gonna spend it on beer?" I mumble. Not even a second after, I feel his hand hit my cheek.

"I didn't bring you into this world for you to be a bitch to me, you understand that?" Keith comes closer, raising his finger to my face. I look into his eyes and wish he didn't bring me here at all. He backs up to the sink and starts downing his beer.

The next thing that comes out of my mouth shocks even me. "Mom would despise you if she saw you right now."

A beer bottle shatters on the wall right next to my head. Missed me.

"Don't ever. Ever. Talk about my wife again." Keith walks over to me as I pick small shards of glass out of my hair. You think I'd know better. Why I open my mouth? I can't help it.

A fist hits me right in the temple, what a lovely hit it was, too.

"You make me do these things." Another hit in my rib. Tears pour out, but no noise comes. Keith walks back to the fridge and downs another beer; probably his 15th of the night.

I watch silently as he throws the bottle in the sink. "And clean this place up tomorrow when I'm at work."

'Work', as in the bar.

He walks over to the couch and passes out in seconds. How he does that, I have no idea.

I walk to my room, slide on my converse and hurry out the trailer door as quietly as humanly possible. It's a warm night out, no need for any jacket. I walk over to the rocking chair that we brought over from our old house; it was my Moms. She used to sit with me in it every night and tell me stories about her life when she was a child. She was a free spirit.

"Are you okay?" A voice sounds from behind me. Ah, Shawn Hunter. The misunderstood boy who lives three trailers down from me.

"Is anyone ever really okay?"

"That's dark, babe." He chuckles and comes closer to me. "Is that a bruise?"

"Maybe."

"You forget to tie your shoes?" Shawn jokes. I look up at him and his manner changes. "Are you crying?"

"Man of a million questions, aren't you?" I move over and pat the spot next to me, motioning that he can sit next to me.

"Woman of very few answers, aren't you?" He sits and faces me.

I smile to myself and wipe the tears off my face. "Seriously, are you okay? What happened."

"Just a part of a routine that I've had for 4 years." I stare up at the dark, empty sky. The worse part of living in Philadelphia is the ambient light. Watching the millions of stars was one of my favorite things to do. Now I look up and just feel alone.

"Is someone hurting you? Do you need help?" A boy I've talked to less than 10 times acting like he cares should make me feel seen. It doesn't.

"You can't help me. No one can." "What does that mean? Can't I try?"

"More questions." I smile and glance at him. Worry spread across his face. "Shawn, many people have noticed. They're just too scared to do anything about it. So, here we are."

I stand up and turn to look at him one last time. "Goodnight, Shawn."

Without looking back, I walk straight into the trailer and into my room, locking the door behind me.

Tomorrow's a new day, but it's a day that I've been living repeatedly for years now.