"You always talk about how you're nothing like those bitches in New York, about how you aren't that cruel. Well guess are exactly like them!!!"

One sentence that was all it took. Half an hour of yelling and all it took to hurt me was one measly little sentence. But it wasn't just any sentence. No this was the worst thing she could have ever said to me.

She knew all my secrets, down to the darkest most private secrets of my soul. She may have been one of best friends (though at the time she was the best, best friend I had), but she was one of the only ones who knew about that incident, that incident that changed my life.

I grew up in Brooklyn, NY. I went through hell and back from the hateful actions of one girl, events that came out of hatred for me, hatred I don't know how I invoked. She was cruel, my tormentor, she hurt me deeply and has made me fear and hate her to this day. But my greatest fear is becoming her, that which I hate most. And that is where my once best friend's comment hurt the most. To outwardly say what she knew was my worst fear, that was unforgivable, that was anguishing.

I really don't remember what sparked the argument, or why she was so mad at me. It was over something stupid though; I remember that. She was in one of her moods and needed to yell and scream at someone; I didn't care much. I let her yell and rant at me, no biggie to me, that is, until she said that.

We hadn't been on the best of terms as of recently. We had been fighting a lot, more so than we usually did, especially now since we were in different schools. I always just figured it was not seeing each other all the time, but she proved me wrong with her words and actions. It wasn't the distance, or the infrequency of our meetings, or not talking as much as we did before high school. Oh, no, if it was just that we could have worked it out.

We had changed. Both of us, not just me, as I'm sure she believed. High school does that to you, but situations change people too, and my circumstances caused change. She hated that. She hated change more than anything in the world, so, of course, she hated it when I wasn't the same person she remembered from eighth grade. And boy, did she let me know it, not by out rightly saying it that would have been too simple. No, she caused trouble, that was her way of showing it.

June 26th, 2002 seemed to be just like any other day, except for the fact that school was out. I don't remember now who called who; not that it really matters. We just talked and talked like we always did, but with an underlying tenseness that hadn't been there before. It was like she was a violin string strung too tight, waiting to snap. And snap she did.

God she yelled so much, on and on for a good ten, fifteen minutes before I even cared that she was yelling. Then she said it, the twenty-seven words that hurt me more than fifteen minutes of shouting ever could. I was shell shocked, for about a total of a minute I didn't comprehend what she said, didn't want to comprehend. Then I started crying, silent tears of pain and betrayal. I covered the mouth piece of the phone so she didn't hear.I think I cried for a minute or so before I hung up, without saying a word. She tried to call back, several times but I didn't pick up. I think she left a message the first time, I think I listened to it. It didn't matter though, no matter what she said, no matter how many times she apologized, I would never, ever forgive her for breaking my trust the way she did.

Funny thing is, my trust was the least important thing she broke that day, with those words. People say that "sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me." That's wrong, so very wrong. Broken bones heal with words, words hurt more than anything. I don't think she realized that she broke me that day. She shattered me into a million little pieces of glass that I'm still trying to put back together.

*** This was an assignment for my Lit. class that I enjoyed very much. This is a very personal event that happened a little over a year ago that I have a strange fascination with (I've written three stories about it and one or two poems). I think it came out very nicely (though I could probably make it better).