Dearest ex-friends,

Zoe, I really, really opened up to you. Seriously, so much time with someone really makes you vulnerable to each other. I mean, you slept over for a week straight.

You told me about how your parents used to love each other, and how they always used to be home, taking you places. Well, when they weren't working. I told you how I had an older sister who was in college. She used all my parent's money on partying, drugs, and alcohol, so they cut her off cold turkey. She had to work hard just to stay in college. I didn't talk to her often,  but I missed her.

That was the first time I had mentioned my sister to anyone at the school. Well, one of my sisters, anyway. And you, you were so broken. I saw it in the tears you tried to hide, in the wobble of your voice. I really thought we could understand each other, money gap aside.

Ian, don't think I forgot about you. We started getting closer, so much closer. Whenever you so much as looked in my direction, I felt something. I didn't think I could fall for you.

You, you were the first person I told about my other sister; the dead one. One day, after you had your weekend party, I sat with you on a couch upstairs. You and Zoe had coaxed me to drink, and it felt good. So good. I was buzzing with electricity, and I felt so happy and carefree.

I don't know why I trusted you, but it was the anniversary of her death. It was the anniversary of the day I didn't save her from the pills she found on the counter and swallowed whole. I was the only one home, and I let her die.

I hated myself for it. I cried. Not just cried, I sobbed while you held me and told me everything would be okay.

You were the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault.

She was only five.

Remember,

Laila