She sits on her mother’s tacky denim sofa on a Saturday. Saturdays were the days she lived for. Saturdays meant no school, sleeping in, all day cartoons, hanging out with friends and her boyfriend, but these Saturdays ended last weekend.

Remembering what he did to her, all the broken promises he made, all he did, brought sad sand angry moisture into her eyes and allowed salty rain to fall down her cheeks. How could they do this to her was beyond her. Wasn’t she a good girlfriend? A good friend?

Swallowing against the lump in her throat and trying to ignore an aching in her breast, she gets up; making her way to her room. Lingering in her doorway, she stares at her bed; a place she can’t bear to be on. Now she sleeps on that horrid looking couch her mother bought for absolutely no reason other than to spend money.

Her mother doesn’t understand why she can’t sleep in her own bed, doesn’t understand why she can’t stop crying every time her mother mentions her boyfriend’s name, but that’s because she doesn’t know; didn’t see. She didn’t hear those noises in her daughters room to investigate like her daughter did, because she was with her newest boyfriend. She didn’t find her daughter’s best friend in her daughter’s bed, watching her cheat the couple’s happiness away like her daughter did. She wasn’t there when her daughter’s best friend left, leaving hurtful silence and no explanations behind, but her daughter was. She didn’t feel the sharp pain of a red imprinted hand on her face left from her daughter’s boyfriend, but her daughter did. To be frank, she didn’t even car about what was bothering her daughter for her daughter had ruined her life by forcing her to become a teenage mother. Therefore, her daughter was nothing more than trash she was obligated by law to pick up.

The phone rings. The mother ignores it, like she always does; continuing to smoke her unlawful contraband. So, the heart broken girl wrenches herself from the doorframe to walk down the hall. A glance at the ID says its her once best friend. She picks up the phone, only to slam it back into its cradle. Her ex best friend’s apologies, her ex friend’s regret, meant nothing to her for she had helped her boyfriend destroy her; had in her heart’s ultimate demise. Why should she forgive her? She turns her back on the phone.

At least her friend had made the effort to apologize. Her boyfriend hadn’t even try to make contact after his betrayal to her last Saturday. Sure, she would see him at school, if she went. However, she left that hellish place of hurtful ghostlike memories. She didn’t care if she never got her diploma. She didn’t care that most of her friends were worried about her. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

Outside, the sky has darkened. The bright nighttime sun has entered into the sky. So she lays down on that couch, coated in material made from jeans, and curls into a ball, clenching her chest tight. She closes her eyes and allows the misery to have her.