There was a pounding at my door that morning as I threw the last of last night’s vodka down my neck. Rubbing at my head I staggered lazily to the door. Another pound sent my head into a frenzy.

“Shut up! I’m coming!” I heard a sob from the other side of my thin plastic door. Quickly I opened the door to find Heather on her knees.

“Hey, come in. What’s happened?” I pulled her down the slim hallway and into the paisley living room. I looked her straight in the eyes and asked. “Is it him?”

She looked up at me from the velvet sofa with such a pitiable face a tear almost escaped my own eyes, eyeliner smudged around her eyes, foundation cracked like a desert floor underneath the tears, before bursting into floods of fresh tears.

“Tell me.” This was always my job. I’m the soft one in our group of friends. Heather hadn’t been at the trash-my-house party last night, but I just assumed she was with him.

She couldn’t speak.

“I promise I won’t say a word.”

She looked up at me and it all came spilling out.