Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
March 3rd 2003. -time jump-
My best friend had changed dramatically in just a few months, and it was hard to watch. She'd gone from a somewhat quiet, introverted girl to someone who suddenly loved going out, drinking, and partying—things that never used to interest her. It was like she was trying to lose herself in the chaos, but I knew that wasn't really her. The bubbly, carefree front she put up wasn't fooling me. I could see right through it. And what I saw scared me.
She'd changed so much. Not in a good way either. There was a heaviness about her, something in her eyes that used to sparkle but now seemed dull, tired. She had become distant, snapping at me for the smallest things, and shutting me out whenever I asked how she was really doing. It wasn't like her at all.
And I know Connor was behind this. He'd always rubbed me the wrong way—possessive, controlling, always watching her like a hawk. Yet every time I brought it up, every time I tried to tell her that something was off, she'd snap. She'd get defensive and annoyed, shutting me down with a cold, "You don't understand." So I stopped pushing, but it killed me to stay silent. Every day, she seemed to be shrinking under his control, even as she pretended everything was fine.
The bruises started showing up soon after. First, it was just one or two, small enough that she could brush them off with clumsy excuses—a fall, bumping into something, the usual lies people tell when they don't want to admit the truth. But then there were more. On her arms, on her neck, once even on her cheek. When I asked, she'd come up with new excuses each time. I could hear the cracks in her voice, but she'd never let me in, never admit what I feared was happening.
I couldn't do anything because I had no evidence. Just my gut feeling. And without proof, what could I say? I couldn't exactly accuse Connor of something so serious without her backing me up. But it hurt to see her like this, like a shadow of the person she used to be. I felt useless. I wanted to help her, but how could I when she wouldn't let me? How could I be a good friend when I felt like I was failing her at every turn?
