It was 3 AM when she showed up at my door step, drenched from the rain with a vacant look in her eyes.
We looked at each other for a second before she shrugged and gave me a half smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
I ushered her in and gave her a towel to wrap around her shivering figure.
"What did he do this time?" I asked solemnly.
She simply looked at the ground, not uttering a word.
She wrapped her arms tightly around her small body, as if to hold it all together.
I let her take my bed, kissing her on the forehead goodnight before retreating to the couch for an uncomfortable night's sleep.
She never shed a single tear, she was strong like that.
Even after all the shit she had been through, she still managed to get up with a smile on her face.
I loved her...I still do.
She was my best friend and HE took her away from me.
He was pure evil, a real dirt bag and somehow she still managed to call him a father.
"He's still my Dad, you know? Under all the mess..." She would say. She was good like that, always trying to see the good in people.
I guess that ended up being her greatest weakness.
I met her when I was seven; it was her first day at a new school.
She looked so scared, maybe that's why I first asked her to sit with me at lunch.
We were best friends within the week, vowing to always stick together.
And we did.
Over time she grew into a beautiful young woman.
All the boys wanted her; however she never returned the feelings.
I'd always wanted to tell her, but I was so scared she would laugh.
I should have known she wasn't like that. But I seemed to lose my rational thoughts when she was around.
She was only 15 when her Mom died and everything turned to shit.
Her Dad started drinking, a lot. He got really violent when he drank.
"Always yelling...Always yelling" She'd mutter to herself.
He would kick her out a lot, she was just thankful he wasn't actually kicking her.
She would come to my house at times like this, and I would take her in my arms and tell her everything would be alright. I was wrong though.
The first time he hit her was when she was 16.
She told everyone at school she fell off her skateboard. I saw through her lies though.
But she just kept on smiling, always looking at the brighter side of things.
"I'm just lucky I've got you" She would tell me.
Her Dad grew tired of alcohol and moved on to stronger stimulants. He got his first taste of drugs, that's when things started getting really bad.
She still cared for him though, only remembering the man he used to be and not the violent beast he had become.
Novemeber 16th. That date will always be etched into my mind. That was the day my whole world came crashing down around me.
"I miss you" I whisper as I lay a single red rose on the damp grass.
In front of me stands a faded looking tombstone, the words clearly carved into it.
Willow May Foster
June 23 1989 – November 16 2006
And I can almost hear her whisper back; "I miss you too Paul".
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