It's been three days. Three days and all I've managed to do is flip open that little red folder to reread the last words my bestfriend had wrote over and over again. I haven't been able to bring myself past sitting at my counter, tracing my fingers over the little words in that delicate scrawl that was always so much neater than mine. Even now it's hard to believe that she's gone, that this one strip of paper is the only piece of her I have left.

I sigh, flipping the folder closed once more and crossing the kitchen to turn the heat on my stove top off. I go through all of the motions of the little routine I've set up for myself in the past few days, plucking a bag of sleepytime tea from the shelf and pouring the water over it before settling back up to the counter and looking between the red folder he left me and the bottle of sleeping pills that haven't been touched since he set them up there.

My tea is cold by the tim I tear my eyes away from the items and take my first and only sip. 

The rest of the glass goes down the sink before I finally drag myself into bed and fall into a fitful sleep. 

-----

"Did you know it? Did you know she was pregnant?"

The words flit around my head as I pass by a rack of baby clothes. Would we have went shopping together for the little pink and green onesie hanging there? Would we have stayed up all night talking about what it was like to know that there's a new little life growing right there? Would she have even kept it? 

The onesie ends up in my basket next to the fresh box of tea I'd come to the store for and when I get home it sits on the counter next to me as I flip the folder open once more.

"It's my story." My eyes only catch on the piece of paper for a moment before I finally manage to turn it over to see the page lying underneath it.

I can hear my heart shatter when my mind finally registers just what it is I'm seeing on the page in front of me. 

-----

"Did you know?" 

"It's nice to see you too," he says as I pass by, closing the door before folloing me into his living room. 

"Cut the , Sehun. Did you know that Hanna was a foster child?" All of the hurt and anger that had been holding me up seems to fall off as he nods solemnly.

"It was only a few weeks before you moved here when I found out." He takes a seat in the recliner across from where I'm standing, making a motion for me to take a seat as well. "We'd been paired up for a geneology project and she never turned in her half so we ended up failing the assignment. I was young and stupid and angry when I asked her about it. I felt like when she broke down and told me about her mother's suicide. She said she didn't want anyone to know about it and only be nice to her out of pity, to try and be friends with the 'poor little foster girl.' You know how Hanna was, she would have hated that." The laugh that follows is broken and I can only imagine how it must feel, knowing that he must have read everything in that file a hundred times already and wished and wondered what he could have done to change some of it. "I never even asked what hapened to her father."

"Sehun..."

"You weren't the only one who didn't know her as well as they thought, noona."

I don't know what to say to him. He's right, after all. We all thought that we knew her, that she was an open book that we'd all read, but we didn't. We had never just stopped to listen to her story.

Maybe if we had, it would have ended differently.

Written by PictureMeBroken (30.12.2014)

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