You had always been adverse to change. People leaving, moving, cutting your hair.

Unlike Natalie.

She adapts, changing as her surroundings do. She had no problems chopping away at her hair and bleaching it blonde. If someone left her, she would lash out, words ruthless so she could be the one to leave first. Avoiding the hurt.

Natalie adapts because she has too. All her life, she’s had to evolve and change as her surroundings do just to get by.

And then there was you. The one consistent fixture in her life. It had started at age six — you’d fallen on the playground, scraping your knee, and Natalie had made you laugh.

You were tethered at the hip ever since. (read: key word, were.)

Then the accident happened. A drunk father, an angry girl with the intentions of defending her mother, a rifle with the safety turned off…and just like that.

He was dead.

You could still see the police lights when you closed your eyes tight. That night, and weeks after, you hadn’t left Nat’s side. She slept with you, unable to rest anywhere else. You helped her dye her hair for the first time, and fended off any nasty rumours about her to the best of your ability.

But sophomore year came, everything changed.

You never thought you’d see the day where you and Natalie didn’t get along, but too much cheap liquor and a small spat turned bitter. You said she smokes too much, Nat thinks all your friends are stuck up.

She said venomous things you couldn’t forget.

It was hard now, for Natalie to see where the hell she had gone wrong. You were only trying to help — to be a good friend…how did she manage to ruin the one consistent person in her life? Her person.

It all started slowly.

Nat returned your favourite blue sweater by sticking it in your locker, you left her bag of spare clothes under the steps of her trailer. Then you both stopped visiting the old abandoned house that used to be your hangout; it was probably locked up anyways.

And, God, you missed her. She did too.

But Natalie slept well alone now.