The Pieces Of our Hearts can make a New One {Chase Brody x Reader}

Chapter 1

Again, warning, this book contains trigger warning. Depression and suicide are topics expressed in this book. Please talk to friends or family about this if you are going through this. If you ever want to talk to me about how you are feeling, do not hesitate. I want to help you. Proceed with caution.

(Y/n) P.O.V.

I stand at the top of tall building. I'm not sure what the name of this place is, or what they do, but I've been coming here to the top to see the sunset. But today was different. I came here to jump, and wanted to see the only beautiful thing in my life one last time. The last year had been a troubling one. My parents had died in a car crash coming to visit me. I blamed myself for weeks, being consoled by my then fiancé. After about two months, I found out I was pregnant. I was ecstatic, and so was my fiancé. We prepared everything for the baby, and held off the wedding until the baby was born. But disaster struck when, after four months, I had a miscarriage. To make it worse, my fiancé took this as a sign that I couldn't give birth to children, and left me.

Alone, unloved, no baby, the next six months after that spiraled downhill. I built up depression, and fear that something would hurt me again. That thing eventually turned out to be me.

~~~Flashback~~~ (Right after the fiancé left)

Week one: I've shut out my friends. They don't need me around to burden them. I'll let them live their lives. I cry silently in bed.
Week two: I only ever lie in bed. It's too hard to get up.
Week three: Eating doesn't seem essential, but I do anyways. Why? It's too far from my bed.
Week four: One month since I lost my world.
Week five: Its a good thing that I work from home. I order online for what I need. The outside world doesn't want me.
Week six: I'm not sure what's a good thing is anymore. 
Week seven: What did I do to deserve this?
Week eight: People have already forgotten me. It's been two months. No ones calls or texts or knocks. I understand though. I'm not supposed to be on this Earth.
Week nine: Have I always been this ugly? (You are all beautiful. Don't listen to anyone or anything that says otherwise. I love you all.) Is that why he left me? Maybe it's because I'm annoying, a burden, nothing to anyone. Unlovable.
Week ten: i hate mirrors. I hate myself. I can't be loved. I can't bear children. I can't be happy. I can't be anything to anyone. I'm annoying. I'm a burden.
Week eleven: I have a gun in case of intruders. I've locked it in a safe, in fear of what I might do. I threw the key out the window.
Week twelve: Three months. Why have I stuck around for three months? The world doesn't want me. I don't even want me.
Week thirteen: I don't want to be hurt again by anything again.
Week fourteen: What if I hurt myself instead.
Week fifteen: I can end it.
Week sixteen: Four months. I took a knife. I cut myself. I don't like pain. Still don't. I need another route. I wish I didn't throw out that key.
Week seventeen: I leave my apartment for the first time. Not that anyone missed me. I'm a bag of shit. Another day, in another life, I would have thought today was a beautiful New York City day. But now it's dull and gray. I pass an old coworker. "Oh, (Y/n), how have you been?" I force a smile, and it hurts. I lie it's say everything is fine. She tells me how her life is, how she had a baby a few months ago. I head home for my walk. I lay in bed and cry.
Week eighteen: My eyes are forever puffy. I don't think I have tears left to cry. I'm wrong.
Week nineteen: I leave my apartment to find the key. It's not there.
Week twenty: Five months of the life that doesn't need to be here. Shouldn't be here.
Week twenty one: I make more cuts. I still don't like the pain, but I don't have much of a choice. Sometimes it feels deserved.
Week twenty two: I don't want to be depressed. I don't want be here. I want it to end quickly. I walk around the block, hoping a car hits me. It doesn't.
Week twenty three: I found this really tall building. I decide to go to the top of it, see if the drop could kill me. It can. The sunset is pretty. It's the only good thing I've been met with in a long time.
Week twenty four: Six months. I decide to take the jump.

~~~End Of  Flashback~~~

This is for the best. Ridding the world of someone who doesn't need to be here. I take one more look at the sunset. The purples and oranges and pinks are the only colors I have seen. I look over the railing. I pull myself over the rail. One leg, two legs. I stand on the thin piece of ground after the railing. I take a breath. I start to let myself fall. I hear a shout. "No!" A masculine voice says. A hand grabs my wrists. I look up to see who stopped me. A man with bright, neon green hair looks at me with these shockingly bright, blue eyes. "I can't let you do this. You don't need to do this." He tells me, pulling me back up, and over the railing. I cry, and he pulls me into his chest. I want to pull away, but I can't ignore how good it fells to have this contact. "You don't know what I need." I finally tell him.

"Well this isn't the answer. Someone has to care. I know it's hard. I've tried telling myself this a thousand times. It doesn't work right away, but at some-point you will realize it." I shake my head, I pull away from him. "My parents are gone. I have no other family. I shut out my friends, the world. Why didn't you just let me go?" I sob. I fall to my knees, wiping the tears that keep falling. "Because I saw you about to do what I came here to do. I realized just now, my brother's care about me. I can't do it, and I couldn't let you do it either." I look at him in shock, and he continues. "Let me be the one to care about you. Don't shut everything and everyone out." He reaches his hand to me. I want to run from him, take the jump, but I don't. There's still that small part of me, the one that sees the color of the sunset, that wants to live. It so so small, but it's there. I hesitantly take his hand. He helps me stand. "Chase." He says. I wipe my tears. "(Y/n)."

All art belongs to someone else. Except the cover, I drew that.