Broken Wings
Train Ride
Broken Wings
Chap. 1
Jasmine’s P.O.V.
“Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!” the alarm on my phone woke me up. I shut the alarm. My tired body dragged itself to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection. My black hair was a mess and my tear ducts were covered with eye crust. I rubbed my eyes and did my usual morning routine. I went back to my room to pack and few things in my bag. I went to where my sister was sleeping and I sat on her bed. “Wake up, Nadia! We have to catch the train to rural New York!” I exclaimed. I pulled her feet out from under the sheets and put her shoes on. I led her to the bathroom, since she was half asleep. I closed the door. I went to my mom’s room and my mom was cleaning her face with rubbing alcohol. “Morning!” I said. “Morning! We have to be at the train station by 5:30 a.m. What time is it?” She asked. I looked at the digital clock behind her. “It’s 4:35. We should get the heck out of here!” I exclaimed. Nadia walked back to the room and lays down on the bed. She was already decent enough for going out since she was wearing jeans and a pink blouse. “Nadia, put your shoes on and go to mom so she can brush your hair,” I said. She obeyed. We walked down stairs and my mom called the cab. We put on our jackets, took our bags filled with clothes, and exited our house. Our cab was in front of our house and we piled in.
I was in deep thought during the hour cab ride to the train station. The contents of my mind flowed. I was going to be exactly what I wanted to be – a star. I know it sounds shallow. However, this is one of my greatest desires. I can finally cross something off of my bucket list. Also, this is my way of taking away my families problems so maybe; somehow, they can deal with mine.
“We’re here!” my mom said. We got out of the cab and into the station. Thirty minutes later, we were on a moving train headed for rural New York. My sister was sleeping and laying her tired head on my mother, who looked like she was dozing off. But me? I was wide awake off course. I’m way too excited. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I feel as if an elephant is sitting on me. I can’t breathe. I checked Twitter on my phone. Joe Jonas tweeted something. “Heading for New York. Can’t wait to start filming. I’m going to love this!” I hope you do. I really do. I sometimes wonder why Joe Jonas would want to play a young man working in a treatment facility. I guess God made a miracle happen. I hope he likes me even though I’m a bit insane. He seems to “happy” of a guy to like an emotional wreck like me. I am a miserable sap just trying to rid the world of its pain. He’s just a free-spirited guy looking for fun. Nothing more, nothing less. But who am I to think he’s the one to help take the pain away. Damn! This is so stupid and shallow and so like some crazy idolatrous fan! Whatever! I need something to ponder on to kill time on this extremely long train ride. Joe Jonas. Oh my gosh. Joe Jonas. He has dark hair, hazel brown eyes, light skin, hot body, etc. I don’t know him, which I hate. He seems genuinely nice. He’s got a good sense of humor. He seems to be loving to friends and family. That’s all I know for sure. I have my doubts about him. After hearing that, most fans would yell, “Blasphemy!” I don’t know what to think about him sometimes. I just wish that I knew exactly what was on his mind, as if I was a ghost following him.
I know that I have a long way to go in this world before people will respect me as an actress and a screen-writer. I guess my background has something to do with it. My full name is Jasmine Ahmed. I am of Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Pakistani decent. I like to write, act, eat, sleep, and fantasize about a life I’m turning into reality. The Bronx is my home. My parents are divorced. My father never really took his paternal responsibility seriously. When my mother was pregnant with my sister, he threatened that he would leave to Pakistan if she didn’t get an abortion. She refused and he left. For eight long months, I cried and cried till I couldn’t cry anymore. My mother gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. My dad came back for whatever reason, but he had to go back because his father was dying. He died and my dad came back. Then the divorce crude began. Finally, it was over and done with when I was nine. My mother gets easily angry and stressed. I understand that the bills pile up, but it still hurts. Not a day passes that I don’t hear her speak in an angry tone. When I used to talk to her about my emotions, I felt even more hurt afterwards. It’s as if she was refusing to understand me, like it was a joke. But now she understands because I’ve gone through so much. My grandpa is critical of everything everyone does. Don’t even get me started. My aunt cares too much. The only family member that comforts me is my grandma, but there’s a language barrier. She speaks Spanish and I don’t. I’ve always felt alone, and I’m quite used to it. But, I don’t want to live that way anymore. I have friends, but they don’t take my pain seriously. However, I have God. All hope is not lost but wounds don’t heal over night. I just need to keep holding on. I have been diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder, and I certainly have a cloud over my head. I have fits of crying often. I usually feel gloomy. However, half of the time I’m miserable. The other half is spent acting like a crazy weirdo. To most people, I seem okay. I have a fantastic façade that comes on automatically when it needs to. I have cut myself in the past, but only shallow, numerous cuts. Because of my cutting behavior, I have been sent to the mental hospital twice. You see, I felt pain for so long that I enjoy it. Sometimes I’m suicidal, but then I remember that if I die too early then a lot of people will be left alone.
Enough of my life. I just shed a freaking tear. Back to Joe Jonas. I looked back at his twitter page on my phone. He tweeted that he’s at the airport waiting to board. I put my phone on my lap and took out my I-pod. I began listening to music. I looked out the window of the train. I watched as the urban city turned into the suburban town, and the suburban towns turn in to the middle of nowhere. Rural New York is very … rural. I looked at the time. Two hours have passed. I really hope we’re near the station. I am exhausted. I haven’t slept in what seems like forever. I’m so tired! I think I’ll just lay my head down…
Chap. 1
Jasmine’s P.O.V.
“Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!” the alarm on my phone woke me up. I shut the alarm. My tired body dragged itself to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection. My black hair was a mess and my tear ducts were covered with eye crust. I rubbed my eyes and did my usual morning routine. I went back to my room to pack and few things in my bag. I went to where my sister was sleeping and I sat on her bed. “Wake up, Nadia! We have to catch the train to rural New York!” I exclaimed. I pulled her feet out from under the sheets and put her shoes on. I led her to the bathroom, since she was half asleep. I closed the door. I went to my mom’s room and my mom was cleaning her face with rubbing alcohol. “Morning!” I said. “Morning! We have to be at the train station by 5:30 a.m. What time is it?” She asked. I looked at the digital clock behind her. “It’s 4:35. We should get the heck out of here!” I exclaimed. Nadia walked back to the room and lays down on the bed. She was already decent enough for going out since she was wearing jeans and a pink blouse. “Nadia, put your shoes on and go to mom so she can brush your hair,” I said. She obeyed. We walked down stairs and my mom called the cab. We put on our jackets, took our bags filled with clothes, and exited our house. Our cab was in front of our house and we piled in.
I was in deep thought during the hour cab ride to the train station. The contents of my mind flowed. I was going to be exactly what I wanted to be – a star. I know it sounds shallow. However, this is one of my greatest desires. I can finally cross something off of my bucket list. Also, this is my way of taking away my families problems so maybe; somehow, they can deal with mine.
“We’re here!” my mom said. We got out of the cab and into the station. Thirty minutes later, we were on a moving train headed for rural New York. My sister was sleeping and laying her tired head on my mother, who looked like she was dozing off. But me? I was wide awake off course. I’m way too excited. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I feel as if an elephant is sitting on me. I can’t breathe. I checked Twitter on my phone. Joe Jonas tweeted something. “Heading for New York. Can’t wait to start filming. I’m going to love this!” I hope you do. I really do. I sometimes wonder why Joe Jonas would want to play a young man working in a treatment facility. I guess God made a miracle happen. I hope he likes me even though I’m a bit insane. He seems to “happy” of a guy to like an emotional wreck like me. I am a miserable sap just trying to rid the world of its pain. He’s just a free-spirited guy looking for fun. Nothing more, nothing less. But who am I to think he’s the one to help take the pain away. Damn! This is so stupid and shallow and so like some crazy idolatrous fan! Whatever! I need something to ponder on to kill time on this extremely long train ride. Joe Jonas. Oh my gosh. Joe Jonas. He has dark hair, hazel brown eyes, light skin, hot body, etc. I don’t know him, which I hate. He seems genuinely nice. He’s got a good sense of humor. He seems to be loving to friends and family. That’s all I know for sure. I have my doubts about him. After hearing that, most fans would yell, “Blasphemy!” I don’t know what to think about him sometimes. I just wish that I knew exactly what was on his mind, as if I was a ghost following him.
I know that I have a long way to go in this world before people will respect me as an actress and a screen-writer. I guess my background has something to do with it. My full name is Jasmine Ahmed. I am of Puerto Rican, Cuban, and Pakistani decent. I like to write, act, eat, sleep, and fantasize about a life I’m turning into reality. The Bronx is my home. My parents are divorced. My father never really took his paternal responsibility seriously. When my mother was pregnant with my sister, he threatened that he would leave to Pakistan if she didn’t get an abortion. She refused and he left. For eight long months, I cried and cried till I couldn’t cry anymore. My mother gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl. My dad came back for whatever reason, but he had to go back because his father was dying. He died and my dad came back. Then the divorce crude began. Finally, it was over and done with when I was nine. My mother gets easily angry and stressed. I understand that the bills pile up, but it still hurts. Not a day passes that I don’t hear her speak in an angry tone. When I used to talk to her about my emotions, I felt even more hurt afterwards. It’s as if she was refusing to understand me, like it was a joke. But now she understands because I’ve gone through so much. My grandpa is critical of everything everyone does. Don’t even get me started. My aunt cares too much. The only family member that comforts me is my grandma, but there’s a language barrier. She speaks Spanish and I don’t. I’ve always felt alone, and I’m quite used to it. But, I don’t want to live that way anymore. I have friends, but they don’t take my pain seriously. However, I have God. All hope is not lost but wounds don’t heal over night. I just need to keep holding on. I have been diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder, and I certainly have a cloud over my head. I have fits of crying often. I usually feel gloomy. However, half of the time I’m miserable. The other half is spent acting like a crazy weirdo. To most people, I seem okay. I have a fantastic façade that comes on automatically when it needs to. I have cut myself in the past, but only shallow, numerous cuts. Because of my cutting behavior, I have been sent to the mental hospital twice. You see, I felt pain for so long that I enjoy it. Sometimes I’m suicidal, but then I remember that if I die too early then a lot of people will be left alone.
Enough of my life. I just shed a freaking tear. Back to Joe Jonas. I looked back at his twitter page on my phone. He tweeted that he’s at the airport waiting to board. I put my phone on my lap and took out my I-pod. I began listening to music. I looked out the window of the train. I watched as the urban city turned into the suburban town, and the suburban towns turn in to the middle of nowhere. Rural New York is very … rural. I looked at the time. Two hours have passed. I really hope we’re near the station. I am exhausted. I haven’t slept in what seems like forever. I’m so tired! I think I’ll just lay my head down…