No Longer

Ever since Ali met him, she was different. She wasn't her cute, shy, self. She went out partying and hooking up with seniors, she wore the shortest of shorts and crop tops. She smoked, drank, and became everything she used to make fun of.

I remember her sitting on my bed ranting about Katie King and how she thought she was hot because she slept with hot people.

Ali told me that she was a virgin because "sex isn't anything to be in a rush about". I laughed and thought it was funny how we could be so different from each other. I was such a "live like there's no tomorrow" kind of girl, it seems like we swapped places.

So there he was, in my kitchen. As much as I hated him, I need to know why he's in my house. I was mainly expecting an apology. For taking my best friend away from me for the last month of he life.

I take a few steps closer to him to ask him why he's here, but before I can get any words out, he starts crying.

I never thought that Ben Millards would be standing in my kitchen, uninvited, crying his eyes out but, there he was.

I'm not sure if I should say something, "should I pat his back?" I ask myself. I decide to ask him what he's doing in my kitchen.

"I can't live like this" he cries out in his subtle British accent. His family was from England but they moved to the US three years ago. I'm still not sure why someone would move from England to Delaware but I guess it's possible.

"Im lost here. What do you mean?"
"I know what happened to Ali" he tells me. I feel the floor beneath me fall, yet I am still standing. I had wondered what had happened to Ali ever since my mom ran into my room at 3:00 in the morning. The moment still plays in my head
"Morgan, honey, wake up!"
"Mom it's like 3:00"
"Mom, are you crying?"
"Honey I"
"What happened?"
"It's Ali. They found her body in her room"
I feel dizzy just thinking about that moment.

"Sit down" I say to Ben. He can tell I'm not playing games by the tone of my voice.
Ben sits down and stares at the glass dinner table and I get my water.

I take a sip and sit at the opposite side of the table, staring into his eyes. "Aren't you going to say something?" I ask. Although I could have been kinder with my tone, I felt as if it would take a bit of rudeness to get through to him.

His eyes look tired and dull. I could tell he wasn't his normal self. He was never this quiet. "She killed herself" he loudly states. For some reason I did not feel any different after he said that. I do not believe him.

"I know it might seem far off but I have proof" he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a phone

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