A/N: I'm sorry if this is rambly and doesn't make sense. This is set the summer after high school graduation.

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July 2nd, 2013

Massie Block knew the day that Derrick Harrington showed up to her door that something was wrong. The last time they had spoken had ended in screaming, cursing, slammed doors and two crushed hearts; his last words were that he would never look at her again, let alone talk to her. Something major had happened, Massie knew that.

Derrick opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a sob. A sob, from Derrick Harrington? She stepped forward, through the threshold of the door.

"Derrick? What the hell happened?" She asked, the fear in her voice raw.

"Massie, Claire..." He started, trailing off. The unspoken words, the most important ones, floated through Massie's head.

"Oh my God." Her legs felt weak. She'd always thought that people who fell over when they were struck with grief were wimps, weaklings who had never been through real pain and adversity. "Oh my God, no, please tell me its not true?"

Derrick just stared at her, his face heartbroken, his eyes teary.

"This is all my fault. Oh my god, this is all my fucking fault." Massie went back into the house, slamming the door, not giving a flying lemur about her mom's golden rule of "Never make messes and don't you ever dare slam that door or I will cut off your credit cards!" How could she, really? Claire, tiny, beanpole, blonde, blue eyed Claire, was gone. Deep down, she wasn't surprised. She had been waiting for this news since Claire had started hanging out with Chris Plovert and Kemp Hurley, two losers from their class who had more drunk and high days than sober.

Massie had been waiting for this since Claire told her she was sick of being the good girl, the one all her friends' parents held up as 'the most perfect daughter in Westchester', and was ready to start being a real Westchester teenager. New Year's Eve 2012 was when Massie truly lost Claire, when Claire had started using marijuana. She had always been a little damaged; her parent's relationship could be best described as incendiary, and after a while, she needed a release. Massie had seen this happen to many an older Westchester high school student; it wouldn't just be marijuana.

Everyone in their town was fucked up to some extent; some people couldn't deal with it on their own. And they turned to natural and synthetic drugs; drank all the alcohol they could get their hands on; did dangerous and reckless things so maybe they would crash and burn and not feel anymore. Massie had seen this multiple times, but in their town, things rarely ended like Claire's story. Their parents found out about their illicit activities because of a drug bust, or getting caught drinking and driving, or stealing something from the mall. (Claire was too smart to be caught; she had gotten a perfect on her ACT, after all, and aced all the AP tests she took.)

And with money comes resources, like the best therapists (many of their parents were already seeing them), the best detox/rehab centers (they also frequented them) and the best lawyers (half the population of Westchester was divorced). Their parents were willing to do anything to bail their kids out. Not because they truly loved their children. God, no.

They were doing damage control on their fucked up, damaged, washed up children, the parents spitting images. Their little mini-me's. They were doing it to protect their precious family name.

These cases gave Massie a little bit of hope that Claire would walk out the other side alive. She'd probably always have emotional issues, but still alive. Massie prayed-and she never prayed because she was Massie Block, she didn't need to pray to get what she wanted- that Claire would be okay. She made bargains, silly ones, like giving up spending outrageous amounts of money on clothes she would discard after wearing it twice, and real ones, like swearing to pursue a career in counseling to help people like Claire, as long as she didn't OD.

It hadn't seemed to her at the time that God was really listening.

Massie knew he hadn't been listening now. Her best friend, her soul sister, was gone, and nothing Massie had tried to do worked. After nineteen months of stress and crying and a rehab stint that ended with Claire whoring herself out to Kemp and Chris while on a mix of cocaine and Oxycontin, Massie was tired and crushed and disappointed that things hadn't gone differently.

So Massie had been waiting nineteen long months to get this news. After every conversation in which Claire detailed some new drug she'd tried, Massie sighed and checked her closet for an appropriate funeral outfit. Sure, it was the most morbid thing she had ever done, but one day, she hadn't known when, it would come in handy. So even though she was reeling inside from the news, her brain went to her closet and picked out a Marc Jacobs black jersey scoop neck dress, to be paired with black tights, black heels and a black jacket.

She knew she would never wear that dress again; she hated it anyway. She had lost so much weight over the past months that it didn't fit right, but it was relatively conservative and not frumpy and she forced herself to buy it anyway for this exact occasion. She had gotten it a week ago, but she hadn't realize how soon she'd need it.

"MASSIE BLOCK! Are you listening to me? Why the hell would you slam the door? You know we just got a new one!" Kendra, her mother, screamed behind her.

Massie jumped, biting the lip she had already been biting, tasting blood.

"Mom?" She said in a soft voice, her throat catching so she sounded like a smoker. She wiped the tears away that had accumulated in her eyes.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Kendra was heading towards drunk. Massie could tell from how tired she looked.

"Mom," She said with more conviction. "I have to tell you something."

"That you're sorry for probably ruining the door?"

"Claire's dead." Massie turned around, grabbed her Louis V cross body bag and key chain off the table next to the front door, and threw the door open. She was to her car in seconds, not even bothering to shut it behind her. She started her SLK-Class Mercedes Roadster and burnt rubber speeding down her driveway.

She didn't have a destination that was readily accessible. She would go to Claire if she could, but Massie wasn't suicidal. She was hurting, but she would never do that to herself. She kept thinking about their friendship: how they met, the fact that they hated each other for the first five years, their first day of high school, their first high school party, their first boyfriends and loves, how Claire helped Massie get through her breakup with Derrick, and of course, the dark cloud that had settled over their friendship since the beginning of 2012. Their highest and lowest moments, including Massie getting into the University of Chicago; Claire acing her ACT; Claire almost overdosing March of 2013; and Massie drunkenly losing her virginity at an NYU party to someone who's identity she still didn't know after Derrick broke up with her. It was like some horribly cliche slide show playing through her head.

They'd been best friends since fifth grade, had gotten through both petty and serious growing pains in their friendship and had stayed strong even when they had boyfriends. Claire had been a good girl once upon a time; that's what Massie loved about her. When everyone was partying and having sex and doing other nefarious activities, Massie knew Claire wouldn't judge her for not partaking or partaking. They had a real friendship that even the horribleness of high school couldn't ruin. For all the bad things that Claire had done the past year and a half, Massie couldn't hate her.

She would have done anything she could to save her. Claire was the only person who knew the extent of the damage that Derrick did to her when they broke up; how her dad's premature death three years ago secretly made her feel relieved after years of emotional abuse; how she wished her mom would go to rehab, because at one point in time Kendra had been a non-plastic, loving, perfect mother for her only child and Massie missed that.

She would miss their friendship until the day she died. Just because Massie had been waiting for this day for months didn't mean she was ready to never see her best friend again. Who was, really?

She supposed only psychopaths were.

While she was driving, she didn't realize that she was going 90 MPH. She didn't realize when it started raining, and almost didn't see a trash can blow out in to the street until she had almost hit it. In her I-look-composed-but-in-the-inside-I'm-dying state, she shouldn't have been driving.

She really shouldn't have been driving.

Even though deep down she knew she shouldn't swerve, she did it anyways.

And lost complete control of her car.

The sound that her car going 90 made after it hit a parked Lexus SUV was loud, full of broken glass and crumpling metal and a head hitting glass and metal. The family who owned the Lexus SUV was playing outside, their five year old twin daughters kicking a soccer ball with their dad. They didn't see the crash coming but they heard everything.

"I know this is going to sound weird," the dad told one of the many police officers investigating at the scene. "But I swear I heard the girl yelling "I can see you in the street, Claire!" right after she crashed."

"Claire, huh? She must have been drunk." The police officer muttered to himself after walking away from the man. He knew Massie Block; his daughter went to BOCD, too. He also knew that Claire Lyons, Massie's best friend, had died early that morning in an apparent drug overdose. There was no way that Massie could have seen Claire in the street. Stupid kids, drinking and driving. He went over to talk to a paramedic who was loading the girl into the ambulance.

"She's alive, but barely. She's going to need emergency surgery, stat."

That Night:

Newscaster: Good evening Westchester. We start this broadcast with a tragic story. Two teenaged girls lost their lives today in two horrible accidents. Claire Stacy Lyons, eighteen, died in what police and community members alike are speculating as a drug overdose. Lyons' struggles with drug abuse were no secret around the Westchester area, with multiple almost-overdoses resulting in community vigils to support one of the brightest and most popular students. Even while she was struggling with kicking a severe drug habit, she managed to make the B merit roll at Briarwood-Octavian Country Day High School and aced the ACT the first time she took it. The station's thoughts and prayers are with her family this evening, and we remind everyone to remember the good that Claire Lyons did for her community and school, rather than the negative behavior she engaged in. Massie Addison Block, also eighteen, died earlier this afternoon after crashing her car while going 90 MPH into a parked vehicle on Brown Street. Block and Lyons were best friends, officers learned, after speaking to Block's mother. After telling her mother the horrible news about her best friend, she hopped into her Mercedes Roadster and was driving to an undetermined location when it started raining. A trash can blew into her way and she swerved to avoid it. A family watching from their front yard gave the officers their piece of the puzzle. Officers currently think Block was on her way to Lyons' house when the crash occurred. They are also entertaining the thought that the accident was actually a suicide attempt, because while she swerved to avoid the trash can, she didn't swerve to avoid the Lexus SUV that was a good distance farther down the road. Block had planned to attend the University of Chicago in the fall to study biology so she could go to medical school to become a psychiatrist. She had chosen that career after Lyons' struggle with addiction. The station wants to extend prayers to Block's family as well. Funeral details have yet to be released, but Block's mother said that both families were planning on having a joint funeral for the two, who everyone described as sisters. The community is mourning this tragic loss of two amazing young ladies who had the potential to go far. Donations can be made to the Claire Lyons' Foundation, to help those who struggle with addiction get therapy and rehab. Rest in peace, Claire Stacey Lyons', November 20th, 1994 to July 2nd, 2013, and Massie Addison Block, September 9th, 1994 to July 2nd, 2013. You will be greatly missed."

No one said it, but Massie made it through surgery. It was a miracle. She seemed to be doing well until she started crying in her hospital bed, hysterical. She managed to tell a nurse that she remembered that her best friend had died.

No one said it, but it seemed like Massie couldn't handle being apart from her best friend anymore, especially after feeling like she lost her twice.

No one said it, but it seemed like Massie let go.

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A/N: Sorry if the details are sketchy. Please review.

Thanks- M.