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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 19, 2017

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Submitted: June 19, 2017



A friendship should be high in value and loyalty, with a trust almost too strong. A care too steady with an improbable hatered. However, actions will always speak louder than words, and if those actions stay balanced during a direct approach, a war is craved. For one girl this was proven correct, at the beginning of 2014. She believed a friendship first begins from ones eyes and mind, way before it makes its way nearer to ones heart. She looked at her best friend, seeing the sorrow and innocence in her big young eyes. In her mind she saw the fright, slyness and jealousy peircing right through her. 

She felt the hard splashes alcohol pouring down her throat in the white block at 3am. Her best friend beside her, chatting away to the boys who knew her a lot better and for a lot longer. Laughter died down quicker than expected for her and things repeated like Deja Vu. With weak legs she walked towards him, a familar face. And he embrassed her in his arms, her faced rested in his chest for a couple of seconds, and for a moment she felt safer whilst his older brother observing.

It seemed like a fun and casual walk- to only another unknown block. Red doors portrayed themselves. They wouldn't let her down the stairs, tight grips on her arms, tugging and pulling around her waist. Her friend just standing there watching, in the middle of the stairway. The red doors blurred as she lost balance. She felt the tears in her eyes. You'd think her heart would pound through her chest. But it didn't, she felt nothing. Like a ragdoll tripping over her feet and being pulled on the hard cold floors, dragged up the stairs and shoved down.

Her sense of thought began to burst before it started going. Her energy decreasing. Powerless.  Large hands over her body like priceless trash, sliding up to her neck. She tripped onto him unstrapping his belt, so desperatley. Her arms so weak she coudln't push herself up, the extra weight resting and barging into her back wasn't helping. Fingers tugging in her mouth, lips parted and filled. Her gag was traumatic and her yelps were unheard. His hands rested behind him, someones hands in her hair and on her back, her arms. Her friend nowhere to be seen. Pass the parcel. Her lungs quenched, her chest empty. Her throat dry and tight. Her eyes rolled back as she fell, only to be lifted back up. Time stood so still. So, so still. And its horrifying how things spread so quickly.

And it only took a day later for everyone to recieve new information in their heads. And her friend denys she done nothing. In the eyes she seemed so innocent and fragile. 

And people asked the girl what happened, and she could say nothing. Wounds don't heal without leaving a scar. It didn't matter to her. Nobody believed her. Nobody, believed her. Scarred she is.

© Copyright 2018 Jay Elizabeth. All rights reserved.

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