Disloyalty

- The 'End' -

this is very long but more backstory [;

6 years later

It had been six years since Andrew and I first met on that beach.

Now, he was one of the closest people in my life. Our friendship had become a sanctuary within the chaos, a source of strength for both of us.

It was my 16th birthday party, October 31st, so I decided to make it Halloween-themed.

My Sweet 16 wasn't exactly sweet that year. I mean, it started off great—until it didn't. I spent the entire day before the party making sure everything was perfect, down to the smallest detail.

After weeks of agonizing over my outfit, I settled on a devil costume: a red dress, lace-up heels, silver hoop earrings, and bold eyeliner paired with an even bolder red lip. My mom did my makeup—not my usual style, but she and my friends convinced me to go big for a milestone birthday.

If I had to describe myself, I'd say I'm a pretty average 5'4" girl with green eyes that some call "emerald" when they're being nice and "swampy" when they're not. I have medium-length hair and a basic wardrobe, always accessorised with silver jewellery of course.

People have said In the past that I have nice cheekbones and a kind, caring personality, though I'm also pretty introverted—so much so that talking to strangers can be mortifying most of the time.

For example, I couldn't order my own food in restaurants until I was nearly 14. Andrew always knew that about me—he'd order for me without asking, just because he knew I couldn't.

Andrew. The definition of perfect. If you looked up "perfect" in the dictionary, his name would be there. He was practically a saint. He'd grown taller, easily 6 feet now, with a bit of facial hair. His black, fluffy hair was much longer than it used to be—much to my annoyance, since he refused to cut it but he claims its "cool".

He no longer had that cute gap in his teeth, but his smile was the same—radiant enough to brighten the darkest of days. And his stupid jokes? They were still just as annoyingly immature.

By 8 PM, guests began to arrive, dressed in a variety of costumes, from classic monsters to famous characters. My best friend Megan showed up dressed as an angel, which we had planned together—devil and angel, opposites.

She had a halo perched on her blonde-highlighted hair and white feathered wings attached to her short dress. Her makeup was soft and subtle, the complete opposite of her personality.

Megan was loud, confident, quick-tempered, and the least "angelic" person I knew. But she insisted on the costume, claiming it made her look more "innocent," (so more boys would talk to her) She's always the girl in those "most likely to..." games—to be most likely to get pregnant at 16 or most likely to die by 21 and most likely to have a body count over 100 by 50 . (She's kissed 10 people this year alone). Still, we get along perfectly, even though we're complete opposites.

"Happy birthday!" Megan shouted, handing me a gift bag. Inside was a charm bracelet, glinting in the light, with a heart-shaped pendant engraved with my initials: M.E.

"It's beautiful," I said, genuinely touched by the gesture. I threw my arms around her. "Thank you so much!" I slid the bracelet onto my wrist, admiring how perfectly it fit.

"You're welcome! Now, who's ready to have the best night of their life?" Megan grinned mischievously before yanking me into the crowd of dancing people.