A friend...or not.: Lavinia

April 25, 2019. I walked through the school hallways, my long brown hair falling to my shoulders. Endless chatter filled the room. I then caught the eye of Sylvia, who greeted me with a sharp punch to my shoulder. "Sup, bitch?"

My heartbeat quickened at the sight of her. "Ouch," I muttered. It hurt. It really did. My shoulder, I mean. I didn't understand if I was being dramatic for this. My hand went up to my shoulder. Yeah, I guess it's pretty common for friends to greet each other with punches, but that didn't calm me down.

"Can you..refrain from doing that..?" I said as my eyes flickered from the clock and her. The words slipped out in a more softer and pleading way than I intended them to be.

"No need to overreact so much," she laughed it off and then said, "And stop walking like a damn hippo. Be quicker, it's actually kinda annoying at this point." She laughed, and looked at me as if I were supposed to laugh too. I let out and awkward "haha.."

"Y..Yes. Okay," I stammered, now fully conscious of the way I walked.

"How about you skip class with me today? That way, you could make up for how you behaved with me. I'm going to let you off the hook this time for not replying quickly. Nobody else would have been this generous." She demanded, not breaking eye contact even for a split second.

I wanted to say, "No, I'm already clueless enough about what's going on at class." But I couldn't. Was replying 15 minutes late that much of a sin? I didn't know.

"Okay." I agreed reluctantly. I felt as if I just swallowed a huge rock that I couldn't quite swallow. As if the rock is scratching and making my throat bleed and blocking my airways.

She held my hand tight enough to cause pressure marks and jolted to the restroom, nearly banging my head onto walls too many times to count.

***

I zoned out as she kept on ranting about her day. Yes, this was disrespectful. But I had no more energy left. "Hey! Say something when I talk to you!" She lashed out. But she was the one who kept on speaking without pauses. She would argue and hit me if I interrupted her while she was speaking. No, I can't call it hitting. I can't complain. It's all my fault.

"I'm sorry... It's all my fault." I pleaded. For a second I could see something I could not quite make up flash in her eyes. Fear? Sadness? Surprise? Guilt?

***

I walked into my house, put my bag down, and went to my room. I lay flat on the bed, only to be struck by a sharp pain in my shoulder. I immediately went to the mirror to check what caused the pain, only to catch sight of the bruise caused by the friendly banter between Sylvia and me.

"Dinner's ready!" my mother announced. I sat at the table to eat, thinking of what had happened at school today. How could I ever think of such people as my friends?

"How was your day?" my dad asked, starting a conversation.

"It was fine," I felt my heart race as those words left my mouth—I lied again. Why do I lie every time? I know that they love me. I also know that they might help me. But I just can't…I can't tell them. It's like there's an invisible rule that I can't ever disobey. Would they think I'm sensitive if I tell them?

"Can I not go to school tomorrow?" I asked my parents, my gaze flickering between my mom and dad.

"Why not? Are you sick?" My mom questioned me, her expression puzzled and concerned, waiting for my response.

"I fell. I uh…fell in the bathroom. I hurt my shoulder." I told my mom, trying to convince her. Hoping she wouldn't doubt it, I showed her my bruised shoulder.

Bewildered, my mother asked, "How come you bruised your shoulder? It looks like somebody punched you. Tell me, who was it?" She demanded my answer. I could only respond with silence. My heart raced, words wouldn't come out of my mouth. My throat tightened, and my breath came out in shaky bursts. My bottom lip quivered.

"Answer me!" She yelled, slamming the table. It made it hard to hold my tears back. My throat tightened, but I swallowed it down. No. I wasn't going to cry—not in front of them. Without a word, I pushed my chair back and walked away.

The moment my door clicked shut, I let out a shaky breath, pressing my palm against my bruised shoulder. It still hurt, but not as much as the truth I refused to accept. I climbed onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow, tears soaking through the fabric. Scrolling through the internet should have been a distraction, but nothing could quiet the storm in my mind. I hated everything. The blaring horns of passing cars, the distant chatter of people who had no idea what I was going through—it all felt unbearable. Humans are cruel, selfish, and heartless. I despised them, being human myself. How very laughable.

I've had enough. I'm going to cut her off. This time, for real.

But how?

Even as I told myself this, I knew it wouldn't be easy. Sylvia wasn't just another person in my life—she had been my friend for years. The idea of severing that connection filled me with anxiety. What if she turned the others against me? What if I ended up alone? The thought terrified me, but wasn't I already alone?

I reached for my phone, hovering over the chat with Sylvia. Our messages were mostly one-sided—she complained about people and gossiped. And whenever I did try to speak up, she would shut me off. Was this what friendship was supposed to feel like?

Taking a deep breath, I typed out a message. My fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

Me: Hey, I don't think you are the right type of friend for me.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the send button. My chest tightened. Once I sent it, there would be no going back.

The screen dimmed.

Coward.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Why was this so difficult? It wasn't like she cared about me. If I disappeared from her life, she'd just find someone else to torment.

A sharp knock on my door startled me.

"Honey," my mom's voice was softer this time.

"I don't know what's wrong, but you can talk to us, okay? Whatever it is, we're here for you."

I closed my eyes. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to walk out of my room and tell them everything.

But I couldn't.

Not yet.

So instead, I did the only thing I could do. I turned off my phone, buried my face back into my pillow, and wished for the night to swallow me whole.

***

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