Rosie

                I used to have a best friend. Her name was Abbie Lynn. I called her Rosie.

            Rosie was majestic and beautiful, something like a model. In the summertime, her auburn hair would get lighter. In the wintertime, her auburn hair would get so dark that the color reminded of a rose. That’s why I called her Rosie.

            Rosie and I were inseparable. We had every class in school together and went to the park every afternoon after school ended. My mother used to joke around and call Rosie her adopted daughter. In a reality, Rosie was the sister I never had but so desperately wanted.

            Rosie was outgoing and loving. She could make anyone smile, even on their lousiest of days. She could take a negative and turn it into a positive in a matter of minutes. She stood up for what she believed in and never put anyone down. She had the attention of every guy but found none of them interesting. She had the personality that everyone loved and wanted. She was an all-around great person.

            However, Rosie had secrets. She hid things from everyone, from me. How she looked and acted on the outside distracted those around her from thinking she had a problem on the inside. Every time I asked if she was okay, she would always say, “I’ve never been better” with a rock, solid smile. I would let it go but asked a few hours later, getting the same response.

            Rosie started to wear bracelets upon bracelets on her wrists. I thought it was just a new fashion statement for her. I didn’t ask her about them then but I wished I had. As the days passed, the amount of bracelets on her arm continued to grow as did my worry. But she kept reassuring me that she was fine. And then one day both of our worlds came crashing down.

            It was October 23^rd when Rosie played hooky for the first time. Something was off about her, but I didn’t know what it was. But, knowing who Rosie was and that school meant the world to her, I knew I had to check on her. I walked into her house and found her in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, pushing her fingers into her mouth, and throwing up. She yelled at me to leave, to never discuss what I saw. I just stared at her, tears threatening to pour out of my eyes. There was my best friend, broken, and I could do nothing to help her.

            The next day, she was at school. She looked terrible. If you knew Rosie, you would know that she couldn’t go a day without straightening or curling her hair, wearing make-up that made her golden eyes pop, and a smile that could stop the world. Something was wrong with her. Rosie was no longer the Rosie I once knew.

            Rosie talked to me less and less. She started hanging out with the group of people we used to make fun of. She wore darker make-up, dark clothing, and dyed her beautiful auburn hair black. I looked at her and saw some girl trying to be something she isn’t. I looked at her and saw a girl with so many secrets bottled up that she would rather change than express them. I looked at her and saw my best friend in pain.

            I walked up to her one day during Economics class. She gave me a funny look. I ignored it. “Rose, how are you?” I asked her.

            “I’m fine. Why do you keep asking me that?” She snapped.

            “Rosie, you aren’t fine. I remember what I saw a while ago. Just talk to me please.” I begged.

            “Listen,” She started but was cut off by the bell to start class.

            That was the last chance I had to talk to Rosie. She shut me out completely. She used to wave to me or text me here and there, but after that day, we no longer talked. She knew all of my secrets and I knew none of hers.

            I walked into my house one day to see her sitting at my kitchen table. I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t know what to say or do. I just stood there. Thankfully, my mom came to my rescue.

            “Rosie here said she really needs to talk to you.” My mother said.

            “Do you really?” I asked Rosie.

            She just nodded. My mom left the room and Rosie turned towards me. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately, Cora. I’ve been thinking a lot about my life.”

            “What about it, Rosie?”

            Tears were running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to live it anymore. These past couples of months have been hell. There is a lot you don’t know, Cora.  A lot I hid from you because I didn’t want you worrying. But I can’t leave this life; leave you without you knowing what I’ve been through.”

            “Don’t say stuff like that, Rosie. I can help you through this. Through all of it, I promise you.” I cried.

            “Cora, I need you to listen to me. I need you to listen to the story I am about to tell you. Can you do that for me?” She asked, and I nodded. “It was about a month ago when I met a guy on the internet. I know it was bad but he made me feel special and loved. At first, I told myself that I would only talk to him for a little while until I found someone around here that interested me. As you know, that never happened. But this guy, this guy was something special. He wrote lovely poems for me, he wrote a beautiful song for me. And once all that sank in, I knew he was the “one.” And, that’s when everything changed. I was fine with a relationship over the internet. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to meet him. I wanted to see his gorgeous smile in person but I wasn’t ready for him to see me.

            “He didn’t understand why I didn’t want to meet him. He got pushy and demanded that we meet or he would break it off with me. So, against my better judgment, I met up with him. He was even more beautiful in person, Cora. He was so beautiful that it pained me to stare at him. When we were walking around town and he grabbed my hand, he smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped beating. That’s when I knew I was in love.” She looked down at her hands and I saw a tear fall.

            “Rosie, what happened?” I whispered.

            “I was in love with him, Cora. I fell head-over-heels in love with him. He didn’t feel the same. The second time we went out, he asked me if I ever had sex before. I said no. He smiled at me. Not his usually beautiful smile, no. This smile sent chills down my spine. I was scared, and I think he could sense it. He rubbed my back and told me everything would be okay. That night, after we went to see a movie, he drove me to a vacant lot and, and he raped me, Cora.”

            Rosie cried uncontrollably. I pulled her into my arms and cried with her. I understood right then why she didn’t tell me. She was ashamed of something she had no control over. After a good ten minutes of crying, she finished her story.

            “That was the first time it happened. It happened twice. And, after the last time, he told me that if I told anyone, he would hurt me. I don’t know what he is capable of. I don’t want him hurting Emmie, Cora. I couldn’t live with myself.” She said.

            “You need to tell someone. He can’t get away with what he did to you.” I said.

            “No, Cora, I can’t. And you can’t either.” She said.

            I shook my head. “I can’t, Rosie.”

            “I know you can’t, and that’s why I told you. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to live this life anymore. I don’t want to live a life where I’m afraid to walk outside. I’ve come to terms with my decision of suicide and I’m ready to go.” She said.

            “You’re ready to go? Did you tell Emmie or your parent’s good-bye? You can just live with the fact that Emmie is losing a sister and your parents are losing a daughter? What about me? I’m going to lose you, the best and only friend I’ve ever had.” I snapped.

            “Cora, I’m already dead on the inside.” She ripped off her bracelets, exposing her scars. “See, now? I’m already dead.”

. . . . . . . . .

            Rosie spent the night one last time. Everything was perfect. We watched our favorite movies and order take-out. We gushed about the boys we were crushing on. It all felt normal. It felt like nothing ever happened between the two of us.

            When we finally lay down to go to bed, the realization hit that this was the last night we would spend together, our last sleep-over, our last girl’s night.  I cried myself to sleep that night, thinking of everything that we would never get to do together.

            I woke up the next morning, eyes burning from crying the night before. I looked over the blow-up mattress and started crying again. Rosie was gone. I didn’t leave my bedroom after she left. I had no appetite, no need for human interaction. I waited in my room for the phone call I was dreading. I waited for my mom to yell to me, saying that she was dead, that she took her own life.

            The call came at 11:45 that night. Rosie took her own life shortly before 10. Emmie found the body. My mom and I held each other as we cried. I kept thinking about Emmie. I kept seeing her face as she found her dead sister’s body. I kept thinking that I could have stopped her death.

            The night before Rosie’s funeral, Rosie’s mom stopped by to give me something Rosie wrote me.

            “Emmie found this on Abbie’s desk and I wanted to make sure you had it.” She handed me a letter and started to walk away but stopped. “Cora?”

            “Yeah?” I asked.

            “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to my Abbie. And, I hope you are doing well. I hope to see you there tomorrow to give a final good-bye to Abbie.” She said and walked away.

            I opened the letter:

            Cora Bear,

                        Remember when I gave you that nickname? I still have the bear I named after you when we went to Build-A-Bear. We had some great times together. I could not have imagined a better friend to tell all my secrets to and spend all my time with. You never once gave up on our friendship when I isolated myself. You never once stopped believing that we would be best friends forever. You never once thought less of me, especially after I told you what happened, and I think that will be what I take with me when I leave.

            Cora, none of this is your fault and I need you to understand that. What that guy did to me is my fault. It’s my fault that I put myself into a situation to let that happen to me. And, I’m kicking myself for letting it happen. I should have known nothing good would come from talking to some guy on the internet. I’ve read articles, seen TV shows over it, but it didn’t stop me from doing it.

            I wish I was more like you, Cora. So brave, pure, and smart. You would never have talked to some random guy on the internet let alone meet up with him. You always knew what to do in situations like that. I wish I would have told you about him. I guess I was just too nervous and ashamed of what you might say to me about it. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on your face when I told you. I was more afraid of disappointing you than my own mother, if that tells you anything.

            Cora, the point of this letter is to say good-bye. But I can’t bring myself to say good-bye to you because I will see you again. To me, this is more like a see you later. Remember our very first sleep-over? I told you I had to leave and said good-bye but you stop because it wasn’t good-bye? That’s what I think of this now. I will see you again. I just hope it’s not too soon. You, Cora, have a bright future ahead of you and I don’t want you to take your life because of me. You will find another friend, you will fall in love, you have a family, and you will have a career. Remember that, please. And, promise me that you will tell your children about me.

I love you, sister,

Rosie

            I looked up toward the sky and whispered, “I promise.”