Pretty lies

twenty eight- e violà

Isadora Rose:

This is fucking exhilarating.

I am sitting in my friend's car ,shovel in hand, ready to go dig up a maybe-dead body. This should not be so exciting.

"We should do this more often." I say while staring through my window. There aren't as many birds around here ,which is quite nice.

"Breaking into graveyards to dig up your dead grandma?"

"Well when you put it like that, you make us sound like crazy people." It's very off putting.

"Yeah because before this we were perfectly-sane Samaritans." What a sarcastic bitch he is.

"I mean like we should go out and do weird shit like this more often. It's better than getting high round the back of Denny's."

That was the worst four hours of my life. A crack head stole my joint and then I chased for half a mile to get it back only for him to spit at me. We're cool now. His name is Mike and he's a priest.

"I guess so. But maybe next time can I have some more notice because this was quite a shock if I'm being completely honest with you." Fair enough. I'll send a fucking messenger pigeon since I lost my phone.

"How are you coping?"

"I'm not really."

I hadn't been coping well at all. I hadn't when Abuela died or that night I lost the kids. I wasn't coping, I was trying to forget.

"I'm sorry you've been through all this shit."

"Me too."

Frankie:

I hate seeing her like this. It makes me feel like shit watching my friend slowly break down. Helping her is so hard because I can't tell when she needs it.

Twice in our friendship have I seen her have a full blown mental breakdown. The first was when we first met and she told me her story. It broke me to pieces hearing how  this sweet girl had been ruined by the same people who 'loved' her.

The second time was the worst one. She was dating a guy called Lucas and boy was she in love. Every conversation changed to him in a heartbeat. I was happy for her but something felt off. I didn't like him, none of us did.

One night, Isadora was banging on my door covered in bruises and scratches. They had gotten into a huge fight and it got physical. I didn't know what to do except hold her.

Every night that week she got drunk and smoked all kinds of shit. Tristan gave her whatever she wanted and it made her worse ; I have never forgiven him for that.

On one of those days, she met a couple of stoners from Sweden and they went to this bar downtown. One of the druggies put something in her drink. The next thing I heard from her was from a hospital bed in Wyoming.

Tristan and I are the only people that know about the assault. She was embarrassed despite the fact we told her it wasn't her fault. In her mind, she was weak and vulnerable. There was no way she would let anyone else know what had happened to her.

I love Isadora with all my heart but I hate for what she did to the girl I used to know.

That girl was kind and honest. She was always down for bowling and late night walks. The new Isadora is hurting ,but she won't let anyone get close enough to save her. She's slowly killing herself and it pains me to watch ,but I can't look away.

This is some sad shit man. Despite this all going on, we still find the fun in life. Our way finding fun is by breaking into graveyards and digging up bodies.