Me and Martina had been friends for as long as I can remember. When things got really rough, we stayed by each others side. Broken hearts and broken households, but no one ever saw a broken friendship coming. The whispers started, rumors forming, we couldn't even look each other in the eye. Suddenly the only time I was away from constant fighting became so much worse than shouting. We never talked about it. I never got an explanation. The thoughts that she fought off for me became worse than ever. My friends hated me because all I ever talked about was her. Every time I saw her, people talked. And now, all I have are old pictures and conversations to remind me of what me and her once were.