It was my first day, transferring mid-year into the 2nd grade. I sat alone on the bench studying the unfamiliar faces scurrying across the playground. It was a harsh game of tag, one I intended to join after I found a worthy friend to play with. That's when I saw her, a beautiful girl with long golden locks and a big smile dashing about. I ran towards her, joining the game, and we talked. By the end of recess we made a plan to meet at the bench every day. Tomorrow I wouldn't be sitting there alone.

We soon became inseparable. We constantly slept over at each other's houses and never failed to have a playdate each Wednesday. We ate lunch together, did all our projects together, played at recess together, did everything together.

6th grade was the first time we weren't in the same class together. We still hung out outside of school but it wasn't enough. I decided to transfer into her class so we could be together. By then both of our friend groups had expanded. This didn't mean we spent any less time together, it just meant sometimes we would sit with multiple people.

We started to facetime and call each other for hours. Sometimes we would talk. Other times we would sing along with each other to an artist she likes named Birdy who I coincidently shared a birthday with. We had fun and laughed with each other.

The first time we sang together took a little bit of pushing from her end. Layla is a great singer, absolutely wonderful. She gets star roles in the school's musicals every time because she is so great. Me on the other hand, let's just say I'm working on it.

"Hey, you know this song?" Layla asked me playing Birdy. I nodded reluctantly. She smiled in delight. "Want to sing then?" I shook my head in embarrassment. I wasn't to keen on having Layla hearing my voice as wonderful as she is.

"Come on! I need practice and it'll be fun." I couldn't really say no to that so we decided to sing. She never stopped smiling throughout it, her grin only became wider as my voice joined in. Afterward, she told me "That was fun," and "We should do that again sometime." Layla got rid of all my nervousness so I smiled and agreed. After all, singing is fun.

After my sister left I started to facetime less and less. This was because of the fact that I knew how well my friend knew me. She could sense in a heartbeat if I was upset about something. I didn't want to have this conversation with her.

Still, I couldn't ignore the persistent calling so I answered. She seemed to notice my mood and asked me what's wrong."I just feel a little sad that's all." I responded honestly.
"About what?" She pressured.

"It's nothing." I knew it was a taboo to talk about it. My family never talked about it. It's like my sister never existed. "Come on something is bothering you can tell me." She continued to be forceful until I told her that my sister was now in Texas staying at a mental hospital. I told her about all of it. She comforted me and promised me that she wouldn't tell.

I knew I shouldn't have told her. If my parents figured out they would be pissed but I couldn't help but feel a little weight lifted off my shoulders. It felt nice to tell someone. Not to mention it reassured me to feel the close bond my friend and I have. It's like she's psychic when it comes to me.

The next day during math class I'm about to walk out the door when three boys confront me. "Is it true?" The first boy, Liam speaks up.

"What?" I ask innocently. Then it clicks. They figured out. My mind doesn't go straight to my friend because she couldn't. Maybe it was my other sister who's at this school.

"Is your sister crazy?"
"Excuse me?" I ask obviously offended.

"She's in a mental hospital right?" Lucas, the second boy clarified.

I push straight past them completely ignoring their comments. They persist to ask until I reach my next class.

At lunch, I go up to my friend and ask about it. "Hey Layla, d-did you tell anybody about what we talked about yesterday?" I ask the question nicely and she responds honestly. "I mean I'm not sure... I might of? I just- something's really wrong with me." She did one of the worst things possible and yet I immediately forgave her. "It's okay." 

Her reason made no sense. I didn't understand, I still don't how it's connected but it is. There was something wrong with her, she just wasn't fully telling me.

I wonder why I didn't notice it in the beginning. When she just felt a bit sad. She could tell with me right away. She had to slit her wrists for me to notice something. I was never really sure if this was the first time she did it but I knew she was acting weird. She gave off this certain feeling I can't describe.

Staring at her attentively I tried to figure out what was wrong. She was wearing long sleeves. She never wears long sleeves. Not to mention it's at least 80 degrees outside. Running to catch up with her I grabbed her shoulder. She turned around to face me seemingly unsurprised.

"What's wrong with your arms?" I knew it. I already knew it. I don't know how I didn't see the signs before. With my sister put in the mental hospital for PTSD, BPD, depression, and suicidal tendencies I should know what it looks like. I should be able to tell before stuff like this happens.

"Nothing's wrong." She said. I completely ignored her and held onto her wrists.

"What's wrong with your arms?" I repeated. She remained silent so I rolled up her sleeves. She slit her wrists.

I don't know why the process took so long. Maybe it's because I wanted to ignore it and pretend nothing is wrong. Or maybe I just didn't know how to handle it, again. It started with comfort and love, reassuring her in hope that she'll get better. It didn't work.

Then it was saying that I would talk to her mom if she didn't fix this, and then it was talking to my mom about it but this still went on for weeks.

It was very sad when our other friends noticed it. Sasha, one of our closest friends, was the one really affected. She cried in the gym room for an hour and we ended up skipping class. I always wondered why I never had that reaction when I was the closest one to her. Maybe I was used to it.

Her mom got multiple calls, one from my mother. Without a goodbye, she left the past behind along with her memories and identity. It became a taboo to talk about it. No one ever talked about it. It's like my friend never existed.