Let the Hurt Girl Heal: Let the Hurt Girl, #2

By K.E.ANDREWS

She is the girl who has been hurt and is healing. She is the girl with new scars. She is trying to scale the mountain to get to the other side in one piece. She trudged through the dark night and seeks the light of the dawn of a new day. She is moving forward with the scars of the past. She is learning to give herself grace when she stumbles back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.E.ANDREWS
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224743346

Book preview

Act I

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

—Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Malcontent

FICTION. BASED ON A TRUE INTERNAL STRIFE

"Where do you go from here?

Into oblivion.

Where no one

can hurt you

except yourself."

—Gracie

What is this malcontent inside?

Is it charged by the storm outside

Or from something within?

That rage,

Raging against the dying of the light.

It flares and rises on the changing winds.

It rips and tears,

A feeling you thought had faded into memory.

Will it yank everything from your foundations?

What has stirred up such a tumult?

Where have the calm winds gone?

Is this a new storm?

Perhaps the old one never really died down,

And was buried until it surged to full force again.

Pain

FICTION. BASED ON A TRUE OBSERVATION OF BROKENNESS

"Maybe if we had more time

And ears willing to listen

We could’ve united our puzzle pieces

And found our definition."

—Amanda Springob

You see their pain

And hold their shattered shards in your hands,

Unsure of how to put them back together.

You’re afraid of losing those you hold dear,

Fearful of not being able to assuage the pain,

Or offer up enough kind words

And support to carry some of their burdens.

Caught between the desire to help

And the conclusion of your own limitations.

To be empathetic is often like being a sponge,

Absorbing until you’re filled with everything

And there’s one to wring you out.

To fill the different roles:

A listening ear

A shoulder to cry on

A hand to grasp to keep from