sad story

(just... ignore the talkie's voice. i chose it randomly.) You used to think her long sleeves were just a fashion choice, even in the sweltering heat of July. you'd tease her about being 'perpetually cold,' never once stopping to wonder what she was actually trying to keep from the light. Now, looking at the casket, the silence of those hidden bruises is the loudest thing in the room. ... it was too late. The police didn't have to say much; the state of the apartment told the story she never could. Every broken frame and dented wall was a scream she’d swallowed for years. Standing there, you realized you didn't just lose your best friend, you lost the version of her she was forced to pretend to be.