Fiction: Inspired by best friends.

She found me kneeling by the doorway of my house. I was crouching foward and my stomach churned.

“Fuck, what have you done Sandy?” her eyebrows furrowed in a worrisome expression - the one she did when I fucked up most of the time.

"I cut myself. Then I rang him ... I didn't want to but he came over and we fought. I yelled and it was as if he couldn't hear me ... So I cut him. Over and over again," I said trailing off.

“Oh baby you’ve got beads of blood on your face,” she skillfully licked some kitchen paper and rubbed hard to get the spots of dried blood off my chin. The blood came off but bits of my skin where she rubbed too hard turned pink.

I stared at my bloody arms, the maroon crusts and fresh scarlet gashes that painted pretty cobwebs on my arms. I had felt no pain. I feel no pain just light headed-ness from the blood loss and nauseated by his face. It was the same face I fell for over and over.

The antiseptic stung my wounds like his lies that cut my soul. He had the face of an angel but he was such a horrible person.

"What did u say Sandy?"

"Bad, bad, bad," I repeated. He was a horribly bad person.

She wrapped the bandages around them and sealed my bow with a little kiss to take the pain away. I felt like one of the kids in her classes. And for a flash moment, the stinging did go away.

When she was done, she stood up, straightened my top, looked straight into my eyes and said as a matter-of-factly, “Good riddance love. Now lets get rid of the body.”