How to bury a friend

Do you know that thing about finding your soul tribe? Well, let me tell you, that is all a goddamn lie.

Mine was filled with fakes, a bunch of them playing as childhood friends when in reality, they disguised themselves as wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Aren’t haters supposed to be your biggest fans?

If that is true, I had a bunch of fans in denial, and all of them filled the stereotype perfectly. Backstabbing bitches.

I should be thanking destiny for its irony, that even though I found out at the worst time, at least I had a sense of revelation when it all unfolded. Her real death, I mean, it felt like a delicious release when I got the news.

The detective in front of me asked many questions, showing pictures of Charlie and me when we were younger. We were hugging and smiling like normal teenage best friends; not a trace of her wicked little mind gleamed in her eyes.

He asked another question, getting me out of my thoughts and back, to what I assumed, was the lamest interrogation ever.

“Why would you think she wrote your name, Ms. Young?” The detective asked, gritting his teeth.

He looked young, maybe in his mid-thirties, with a 5 o’clock shadow and a pronounced jaw. I suspected from his weary eyes that he was a hustler, where sleep was not part of his routine.

Better to not underestimate him, from where this interrogation was going, I might need a lawyer, and fast, so I chose my words carefully.

“Are you talking about the note you mention earlier?” I cut back, not beating around the bushes.

The detective nodded, releasing more pictures from his briefcase. It was a bloody monstrous scene where Charlie choked in a puddle of her blood.

He wanted to see my reaction, so I had to fake to be surprised; I arched my eyebrows and mechanically raised my right hand into my mouth, gasping.

Honestly, I felt indifferent, with no emotion, just a cold rush of apathy.

My only guess of why I was sitting in front of the detective was that her family refused to believe Charlie had committed suicide. For sure, her father used his network to pressure the right people to open an investigation.

The question of whether she committed suicide or not was evident. Maybe murder; why else would the FBI be involved?

Everybody knew they had found unusual details that didn’t quite fit the puzzle of the story, and leaving my name in her suicide note left me in the spotlight.

Yes. My name. That was all she wrote on a piece of napkin and other details that have not been released to the public yet.

“I don’t know we haven’t talked in years,” I managed to say coldly.

It was true; to be exact, five years had passed without one of us exchanging a word. I mean, how much can a person change? I am sure she was the same piece of shit she was years ago.

“You don’t seem taken back by the news.”

As it is said, an enemy will respect you more than a friend. Maybe because I saw Charlie for what she truly was, I didn’t feel the need to act, or at this point, I just got tired of pretending to care in front of the detective. I’m sure the same bunch of fakers from school would be crying their fake tears by now.

“I guess it is because she was already dead to me before I got the news,” I said quickly, pouring my cup of honesty.

Shit, Why would I say that to a detective?

He narrowed his eyes, overseeing me. My heart skipped a beat.

Oh, my God, I just gave him a motive for murder. Stay quite.

“I mean, that picture was taken when we were kids, and we haven’t been friends ever since. I really can’t think of a reason why she would write my name, officer. We have been strangers for years.”

“Strangers,” he repeated.

I nodded

“How would you describe your friendship before you became…strangers, Ms. Young?”

A mistake

“A lot of high school drama,” I said, putting my lips in a flat line.

“Hmm..” He muttered to himself. “What kind of high school drama?”

“Basic teenage stuff. Stealing each other’s boyfriends, that kind of thing,” I lied, controlling the urge to lose my cool.

Oh boy, I will need another session with Dr. Barren.

This detective was bringing dark memories, exactly what he suggested I should avoid at all cost.