Who Are You

"Where were you last night?"

I saw Vickie's hand clench on the doorknob for a moment before releasing it and stumbling into the room. Her face was flushed with intoxication and blank of any emotion except irritation and exhaustion.

"Well?"

Glaring at me, as if telling me that I should know, she flopped, face-first onto her bed.
I sat cross-legged on the mattress on the other side of the room and took in her appearance. Her hair was a mess, she was missing one shoe, and there was a questionable odor coming from her general direction.

"Why does she do this to herself?" I asked in my head.

Vickie and I had been best friends since God only knows when. I think it was around fifth grade, I don't know; we've been the best of friends for years, and that's all that mattered. All I know is that I had never expected her to be the party kind of girl. Ever since I've known her, she's always been the sweet, caring sort of girl that any parent would be proud of. She had good grades and even better friends.

But things started to change in about junior year of high school. I remember her saying something about wanting to start over in senior year; do some things she wouldn't normally do. At the time, I thought nothing of it. I figured maybe she'd get another piercing besides her ears or a bright colored streak in her hair; something along those lines, nothing too drastic.

That's where it started, but then she hooked up with this guy in our class who I never was particularly fond of because of his "reputation" of sorts. Why she suddenly decided to out with him of all people, I will never know. She told me that she wasn't even sure herself; there was "just something about him". Psh. With that, she started hanging out with his friends, and she, slowly but surely, just went downhill from there. She started become unfocused about her grades and more about where the next party was. As you can imagine, it only got worse when we started collage.

But even through all that, we still managed to stay best friends. Recently though, I've been wondering if I've really been acting like one. I disregard her actions, only shaking my head before going back to what I was doing before, and never pushing the envelope. She was my best friend, and I was always afraid that asking those kinds of questions would make her angry and end our friendship there, and that scared me. So, I just decided to stand grudgingly on the sidelines.
But now, I was getting very worried. Sometimes she wouldn't come back to the room until about two or three in the morning, drunk as could be and I had to stay up and make sure she didn't kill herself during the night, which meant sleeping very little and sometimes coming to class dead on my feet. I've had enough of that; she had to stop this.

Rising to my feet, I stomped over to her bed and yanked the pillow out from under her, her head falling into the mattress.

"What the hell?!" She shouted before clutching her probably throbbing head and groaning in pain.

"You have to stop this."

"Stop what?" she grumbled, lying back down.

"You know damn well what!"

Her eyes widened for a second. I rarely ever swear unless I was furious or particularly frustrated, and right now I was livid. "Ellie, what's gotten into you? What's got you so pissed off? And stop shouting." She rubbed her temples for emphasis, hissing in discomfort.

"What's gotten into me? Why am I pissed off? What's gotten into you?" I retorted. "You need to stop this; it's screwing you up!"

"What are you talking about? I'm fine." Her eyes started to harden as she quickly threw up her defensive walls.

"You look like a mess; you smell horrible; dear God, Vickie, you're missing a shoe! How can you say you're fine when you were "so busy" partying and drinking that you lost your shoe?"

Vickie's eyes flickered to her feet in recognition before looking –more like glaring- back up at me. "It doesn't matter," she said coldly. "People do it all the time."

"This is not normal, Vickie," I cut her off. "And you know it. You're acting like an idiot! Why are you doing this? What can you possibly gain from this?"

"I have friends! They're awesome people who like the same things I do. They're nice to me. They're my friends!"

"I'm your friend! Friends don't give you a one way ticket to a living hell!"

"If you're my friend, you'd want me to be happy!"

"You call it being "happy"; I call it being sad, lonely, and pathetic," I said, crossing my arms.

She seemed startled by my outburst and at a loss for what to say. After a few seconds, narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "Why are you suddenly so mad about my social life?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because it's ruining you; you're failing your classes! That has never happened before. You used to be so insistent about your grades!"

"It's fine! It happens all the time. I'll just take it again next year; it's not that big of a deal! Stop acting like you know everything in the world! Now give me back my freaking pillow." I pulled out of her reach as she made a grab for it.

"Not until you realize that your so called "friends" are the wrong people to be around."

Her eyebrows shot up in exaggeration. "Oh, so it's their fault now, is it?" she asked sarcastically, venom dripping from her voice. "I thought I was "doing this to myself", as you so quaintly put it. Riddle me this; how do you know that, hmm? You have no right to say that; you've only met them twice! So until you get to know them like I do, shut up, get off your high horse, and just stay out of this! It's none of your business!"

I froze and just stared at her. "What… what have they done to you?" I mumbled under my breath. Vickie took advantage of the situation and tore the pillow from my grasp and pulled it over her head, my hand falling limply to my side. Tears stung my eyes and I backed towards the door. I couldn't be here; not now.

"I-I don't know you anymore…" Vickie took the pillow off her head and looked at me with confusion.

"Huh? What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"Out," I clipped and opened the door.

"I figured that," she snapped, "but where?"

"I don't know; somewhere. Don't try to call me until the Vickie I know is back." I shut the door with a loud slam and that was that.