Silence is the Biggest Lie

00 - i remember her.

SILENCE IS THE BIGGEST LIE - PROLOGUE

♡ ♡ ♡

I remember her funeral like it was yesterday.

In fact, just yesterday, I cried myself to sleep thinking about her.

The truth is, I hate it. I hate that I remember her. I hate that I remember how she smelt like expensive makeup and vanilla candles. I hate how I remember every time I've made her perfectly-shaped lips curve up into a warm smile. I hate that I remember every single fight we've had, every make up, every almost-kiss, and every heartfelt confession we've ever shared.

I hate how I remember the day I was told she shot herself in the head. In the rain. In the middle of the woods.

I swear, the world around me stopped spinning, then collapsed all at once. The reason for that was obvious: my only source of happiness was gone.

At first, I denied that she was gone. I told everyone, "What are you talking about? I'm fine," every time they'd ask what's wrong. I showed up to school, got my education, went to work, and drove home every day. This was always how my days went until the end of every week. On weekends, I'd go out with friends.

Before Gabby died, weekends were much livelier. I went to parties, got drunk, fucked random guys, smoked with a bunch of my stoner acquaintances, and snorted cocaine until I lost feeling in my nose.

This was the lifestyle I chose to live. But it was also the lifestyle I was influenced into.

Guess who took me by the hand and led the way into this care-free lifestyle? The answer was Gabriella Hoffman. My first love. My ride or die. My best friend.

She was the baddest of the bad. The hottest. The coolest. I'm the person I am because of her, and I have no problem with it.

So what she wasn't perfect? So what she was addicted to drugs and pain and sex and alcohol? So fucking what? She was my role model, and every piece of advice she taught me is a piece of advice I'll never forget.

Damn it, I hate that I remember her advice.

I hate that every day when I come home from a long day of school and work, I lay on my bed and stare at my ceiling, thinking about her, wondering where she is now, if she can see me, and what was going through her head when she decided to leave me in this lonely world.

I miss her. I miss her like crazy. I wish she never left.

I wish I didn't hear her her voice all the time in my head saying, "Jasmine, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I got you into this. Promise me you'll stop. Don't be like me."

She'd say that every time we both made a bad decision together. And I never listened to her.

I never listened to her until she died.