It had to be her. The familiar cursive of her handwriting, the way some words were pressed together and others were too far apart, all of it was Cassie's.

She had dropped a letter outside my house three months ago, and it took me so long to find it.

Dear Amelia, it read, I should've listened to you.

Clutching the small scrap of paper to my chest, I fought back the sting in my eyes. I would be stronger than this.

~

It had to be her. No one else knew Cassie Summers the way I did.

She was that girl that always worked behind the scenes, blending into the background perfectly, always unnoticed, like a camouflaged butterfly — fragile, beautiful, invisible.

But she chose not to see it, and the bullies fed her lies to lead her into a carefully-set trap, a dangerous illusion. It cost her her life.

I knew she was stubborn, insisting she was fine even when she was black and blue all over, insisting she would survive when she had pushed her food tray in my direction, insisting that she was alright when she broke down in the girls' locker room, before applying another three layers of makeup to cover it up.

The bullies were her toxic drug, her motivation to keep pushing herself until she could no longer take it.

Cassie Summers changed after the holidays — her curls straightened, her hair a dark blonde, her outfits tighter and her heels higher. That, to her, was society's standard of pretty.

I realised then, that they had won. They had taken every bit of light in Cassie, and made her this shell who tried to meet society's standards all the time.

She skipped more meals, until she didn't eat at all, the bullies all the while beside her. I told her she should leave them, that they were hurting her, but she just told me to leave her alone, that I knew nothing about her and her friends.

I didn't even look her in the eye after that, even though I know I should've done something.

The bullies would abuse her physically in the alleyway beside the Dumpster behind our school whenever they felt like it, and then leave scars in her heart with their vulgar, harsh words. They didn't care about her at all, but she thought they did. She thought that if she could be beautiful, everyone would love her.

She was wrong, and I could've told her. But to her, I was just the ignorant, stupid redhead who didn't matter, and sometimes, letting go is much easier than fighting a losing battle.

I don't know when it was when Cassie started taking drugs. The bullies told her if she smoked some, she'd be beautiful. She listened.

They were slowly eating away at her, emotionally tearing her down, clawing at her wounds to make them hurt even more. And all along, she didn't even know it.

When Cassie Summers passed away on an August morning from drug overdose, I was the one who had to report every single hurtful message on social media about her, but there were simply too many. She thought people would love her, but in all reality, they didn't care. To them, she was just another girl who had been trying too hard to be perfect, but then she took drugs and overdosed like the idiot she was.

But no, she was a beautiful but damaged rose, slowly withering, petals falling, until all that was left were thorns.

My heart still aches, blood the colour of my hair dripping from the invisible wounds Cassie has left.

No one remembers Cassie Summers. But I do.

~~~

Word count: 613 words

Just a little writing practice that possibly could be sent for competition when I find one. This was written last year, actually, but I rewrote it so many times.

Hope you guys like this short story, and to all the people out there who are involved in any sort of toxic relationship — be it with friends, family or romantically, please know that you are good enough, and that I love you so, so much.