"Again with the 'relationship stuff,' Laine! I'm so done! Honestly, you haven't left me alone for weeks. I get it, we're a cute couple, but that doesn't mean you have to go around and tell everyone that we're together! I hate you! Everything you've done to me has hurt me, has torn my life apart, and after everything I've done for you, this is how you thank me. I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this! All the times that you've made me feel small, all the times you've gossiped about me, you've lied and you've hidden it, but I know! I've always known!
But I'm just a stupid pushover in your eyes, aren't I? Aren't I? Look at me, Laine. Are you listening? Good. You better be.
"This has gone on for too long. I am DONE with you controlling my life. This friendship is OVER, and you know why? All you've ever done was USE ME. I never really had any good friends, they all thought I was rude and annoying. You faked being my friend. You caused me to be depressed, and you know where that's led me? I think you know, you saw the empty bottles at my flat. This 'relationship stuff' was the last straw. I'm done with this, this... pit you've dug." She spat. "Leave me alone, I don't want to see you again."
Those were her last words to Laine J. Fischer.
She was shot in town the very next day.
Melanie R. Pennsworth remembered it.
The cold air seemed ubiquitous, nipping at the people who walked on the cold asphalt on Friday, the twentieth of January.
Melanie had her scarf wrapped up all the way to her nose, just like she had done when she was little. Her mum used to bundle her up in all sorts of clothes before telling her:
"Mel, frostbite is dangerous, dearie. You nae want tha' nose of yours to be blacken'd, do yeh?"
She would shake her head like a discombobulated bobble head.
"Then bundle up and wrap yer scarf up to yer nose so the ice faeries wont get'cha."
Melanie's eyes widened as she nodded, rushing outside and playing games with her mind, like running from the imaginary ice faeries.
Those memories were nothing now. A mere lie, it seemed. Melanie had never been that happy, had she?
And now she was alone, her only "friend" laying dead on the cobbles.
But she didn't know that yet.
Her footsteps rang across the square as she walked over a metal grate in the ground, the sudden metallic clang startling her. She shivered through her layers and continued down the sidewalk to her flat.
She had been at the bank.
Yes, the bank.
She was almost broke.
In fact, she had been this way for a while, financially struggling, as well as emotionally struggling though life.
--paragraph taken out for scratch version, suggestive topic--
She wouldn't let herself cry, though. She had lived through her huge fight with Laine, hadn't she?
Melanie mentally scolded herself for seeming so childish at age twenty seven, screaming at her friend that they were "done".
But they were. She'd just like to leave it at that.