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iii.
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I stopped hearing from Frankie since and I can't say that the months of being without her was nice. To be completely honest, with the rawest term I can think of, those days without Frankie by my side was awful.

Sure, I had other friends -- but unlike Frankie, they don't know what cheers me up, what upsets me, they have no idea what my favorite food is, what I hate the most. Nobody knows me to depth as much as Frankie does, but I guess being a little bit lonely in exchange of ruining Frankie's life was a fair price to pay.

During that month, I thought that maybe what I did was . . . bad. I literally ruined Frankie's life solely because I was jealous that she was happy, and the fact that she found that happiness easily so in a guy. In the end, everything I did just made myself suffer even more because Seth did not end up leaving Frankie, which was my main objective from the start. At least Frankie has someone who cares for her and she has someone she cares for, unlike me who's all alone.

It leads me to ask this question every night: was it worth it?

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"I'm fourteen days clean," I said shyly to Frankie. We were sitting together in my bed, both sixteen. I was on my underwear to show her my skin free of slashes.

Frankie's eyes brightened and she smiled so joyfully at me. The fact that nobody else had seen that smile made me feel special -- other people who haven't seen her smile were missing such beauty.

"Oh my god," said Frankie and bounced on my bed, still sitting. I couldn't help but crack a slight laugh. She dropped her phone and reached for my hands to look at my arms. "You're right!"

Her eyes scanned my skin and it didn't feel uncomfortable at all. She was looking at me. With a smile on her face.

Of course that felt nice.

"Have you been taking all your medications too? You have to go to therapy again next week, right?"

I couldn't even understand what she was saying; I was just looking at her face and at her eyes slightly covered by her hair. Frankie was so pretty.

"Anyway, I'm really proud of you," she said, almost a whisper, and rubbed her thumb over my scars, so gently, so delicately; my breathing heaved. "I'm so proud of you, Rowan. You should keep this going."

I didn't know what to say so I just said, "yeah."

She looked up from my scars to look at my face and she smiled.

I think that's my favorite memory of her.

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One of the things I don't like about Frankie is how she openly talks about how she doesn't like the idea of marriage. I personally am in love with it. She says I'm just a hopeless romantic and sure, I might be, why would I deny that? What's wrong with wanting to live forever with the person you love?

Frankie needs a family in the future since she wasn't able to experience a loving family in her childhood. I don't think she'd thought of it that way though.

"Frankie, do you like boys?" I randomly asked her once.

I figured she liked boys because she didn't have a father figure and the only people close to her were her abusive mother and me, who are both women, so her answer was something I expected I'd get.

She laughed. "Kinda . . ."

"Do you like girls?" I asked next.

Frankie laughed. "Not really."

I don't know why I hoped she would say yes.

A lot of times, Frankie mentions things such as her dying before the marrying age, or something along the lines of not being able to become a mother a child would need.

"See, I'm a mentally ill person with a traumatic childhood, so if I'd get a child, I might just unknowingly project all my traumas to them," she said. "So maybe I'd have to resolve my own issues first before becoming a mother, but since I'm not there yet, for now, I stand my ground of not wanting a child."

Honestly, I thought she was just overthinking it, like it's not that deep, it's just a child, but then again, Frankie and I get on different wavelengths sometimes, so there'd be times where I would struggle to understand her. If that's how she sees it then fine -- maybe not having a child would be fine.

For two months that Frankie was gone, all that I just thought about were our old conversations, about everything she'd told me, about her thoughts and deepest dreams, even though afterwards I'd feel bitter because I would remember her being with Seth.

Still, slowly, I began to miss her a lot.

I kept on dreaming about that one time at the bridge, when she showed me her burns and her scars caused by her mother. She was wearing a sad smile, the sunlight was shining on her dry skin, her hair was frizzy.

"Mom," she said. Nothing else. And I would wake up.

I remembered how Frankie once told me Seth will take her away from her house and they would live somewhere far away. She said this with a radiant smile on her lips and she looked so, so genuinely happy about the thought of leaving the town with Seth. She didn't look that happy when I told her the same thing.

"He gave me life again, Rowan," she said, looking somewhere far, a wistful look on her eyes. "I felt like I'd be able to begin again."

I have never seen Frankie so happy before. It was as if she was never happy in the first place, contrary to what I thought. The look on her face when she said that made my heart sink, again, along with the dreams I had for the both of us.

Seth was taking her away.

I could've stopped myself from spreading the rumors, or from stepping in between them (maybe) but what she said that day was the final straw. It threatened me -- the fact that Frankie would leave me eventually because of Seth. I cannot bear the thought of seeing Frankie happy with a boy and not with me.

The last time I saw Frankie, her eyes looked empty and exhausted, her hair was cut short up to her ears because of the classmate who cut her hair without her permission, she was so thin, and the happy smile she had whenever she talked about Seth was gone. I don't think I am to blame though; things just got out of hand. I only planned for Seth to eventually leave her, but I ended up ruining her life instead.

At first I thought that was fine because then she would seek comfort in me and I would make her happy again, but instead, she decided to leave me because apparently seeking that comfort and happiness in Seth was the better idea.

I was probably so angry and bitter and sad and miserable, that I couldn't bear it one night. I dreamt about her again and I woke up with something wet in my eyes.

I badly wanted to see her again.

It was 1 AM in the morning. I was wearing my hoodie, riding my bike. I drove through the quiet streets and mind you, it wasn't a short trip. Frankie lives quite far from our house, and it took me around fifteen to twenty minutes to get there.

They live in the most secluded street in the neighborhood; only around three to five families live in there, including them, so when I got there, only the lamp posts were lit; the lights were a faint, dying shade of orange.

My bike rattled as I walked through the streets. The dark doesn't really bother me at all so I was fine. When I got to their house, I was surprised that the lights were on.

And there were noises inside.

"Mom, stop!"

My eyes widened.

"Mom, that hurts! Stop -- it hurts, it hurts--"

Frankie often calls me impulsive. She blames it on my Aries moon, and when I told her that astrology doesn't have anything to do with my personality, her response was, "oh, it has everything to do with it."

But when I heard Frankie crying and screaming, I impulsively dropped my bike and ran towards their front door; not because of my Aries moon, or my zodiac sign, but because she was my best friend, and I knew she was in danger.

The first thing I saw when I opened the front door was a broken vase, drops of blood on the floor, and a couple of rats munching on a bowl of a half-eaten meal. The whole living room smelled like spoiled food and piss and vomit, it almost made me throw up. I hadn't been inside Frankie's house before.

"Mom, please stop!"

I was shot back to my senses when I heard Frankie's voice from the second floor. Slowly, I breathed. One. Two. Three. I looked around.

"MOM!"

I grabbed the knife I saw on the floor.

It was 1 A.M.

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