“How long have you had these,” Joe asked angrily.

“About a month now, I guess.”

“Are you stupid?”



“No and I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my business!”

“Out of your business? You’re my best friend. It’s my business too and I’m not going to let you use these,” Joe said pouring the remaining pills in the bottle down the toilet.

“STOP,” I shrieked as he flushed them. I slapped him and walked out of his room, making my way downstairs. He yelled something after me but I couldn’t hear.

What right did he have to do that? How could he just take it into his own hands like that? It wasn’t his body or his problem.

I stormed out of the house and went next door to mine. I ran up to my room and slammed the door. I walked toward the full length mirror and looked at myself. All those pills left me with were a new field of pimples across my forehead and a bad attitude.


I ran my fingers across my face and felt the bumps. I gagged at my reflection. Why did I have to be like this?

“Ugly, ugly, ugly,” I cried. I heard the door close downstairs and wiped my face.

My door opened and Joe stood in my doorway. He came toward me and I raised my hand to slap him. He grabbed my wrists and held on tight.


“Why are you here,” I said starting to cry again.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I couldn’t comfort you when you needed it,” he answered.

I forgot why I was mad in that moment and just let him be there for me.

“I’m sorry,” I cried.