Train

In the end, her ignorance hit her like a train.

They were inseparable. Alice and Katie, Katie and Alice. Everyone knew it. Their other friends knew better than to believe it when either of the two called anyone but each other a “best friend.” It was the kind of friendship where the two developed characteristics and eventually became the other person. It switched off back and forth. Alice was Katie, Katie was Alice. They were both Alice – both Katie. It was inevitable. Others found it hard to be friends with one and not the other. Because, whichever you were friends with, you would always get a piece of the other. They had inside jokes. No one ever knew why, but every day, one of them would wear a peach hair barrette, and the other would wear a rose. A rose on her shirt, sewed onto her pant. It was like their way of owning a part of each other.

But not everything was peaches and roses. Things turned sour, out of the blue, like a storm on a sunny day, or the sun on a stormy day. No one expected it, especially not Alice. But Katie wasn’t ignorant. There were red flags.

Alice was a hypocrite. I won’t go into details, but she was. When Katie did something, and was excited to do it, Alice was the first she called.

“I can’t believe you did that. That makes me really grossed out.” Shot her down like an airplane in war, not as catastrophic though. Katie was excited and Alice shamed her for it; a feeling she became accustomed to. No, when Alice did it, it was the excitement of their friends (the extent of their friends), the school, the world. She was praised. She called Katie, the first she told, and Katie didn’t know how to respond. She was a fake excited, after all, that’s all she wanted Alice to do. It nagged at Katie, though. Why does she get all the glam and Katie gets the gory? Red flag.

Alice was dangerous. She had a fishing line, with “bare-minimum” written on the hook. She threw the line in, and dangled it for all the fishes, just enough to keep them interested. That was their friendship. Alice had many people, and many people had Alice. Katie wondered what it’d feel like to live in a two-way friendship. Alice wondered why Katie hadn’t brought her Starbucks yet. Red flag.

Alice was demanding. She needed all the fishes to focus on her, and if they lost interest, she would add just a little more bait to please them. She owned Katie. Katie had an old friend, Matthew. Matthew and Alice had a bad past, and disgraced them both when she found out Katie didn’t abandon him for her. Like a child, she demanded attention. Wanted everything her way. Demanded it that way. It was her way or the highway. Red flag.
Katie found a new crowd. No one expected it, especially not Alice. Katie wasn’t ignorant. Her and her new friends began forming into each other. But not to the point of Alice and Katie. No, everyone was still their own person. Katie knew a two-way friendship. Katie went to the beach, with her new crowd of course. They found an abandoned caboose where the threw down a blanket and began a picnic. Alice was not happy. She was hungry and had no fish to feast on. She tracked Katie, like she was an animal. It was like her eyes were red, steam out her ears. She found the abandoned caboose where the friends were feasting. She didn’t notice the red flags. She began to cross the train tracks

In the end, her ignorance hit her like a train. No, not a toy train that you often see children playing with. No, quite literally, a train; with boxcars and gondolas and flatcars. It was not a flash of the moment thing, as most people believed it were to be. Ignorance. It was slow, it allowed her time to think. That is the most painful death of all – when you’re left motionless, thinking. The Devil himself must have been the one keeping her heart beating. Her eyes open and he brain flowing – not God. She prayed to God to make it stop. She could feel the heartbeats escaping her ribcage, he last breaths exiting her body, the blood on a one-way route out. And God finally listened. A hellish way to go.

 

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