There was never any love between you and Vicente, only hatred. Hatred and remorse. You two were never saints, you both made mistakes and screwed each other over. One day, he screamed for you to die no matter what. He said he'd rather have a dead friend than a shitty one. But when that happened, he was crying and screaming in despair. He hit your face, shook you, screamed your name, and didn't even remember to ask for help. The neighbors in the apartment next door were the ones who called the police and ambulance. If it hadn't been for that, you would definitely be dead. He's a rock star, living off groupies and drugs. He's used to having everything and nothing, but not you. Not you.