The silence was the loudest thing I had ever heard. I was standing in front of her, watching the grimace on her face morph as she took in my harsh words. The threads of my voice hung between us, like a bomb about to explode. Her brow furrowed and her lips pressed into a paper-thin line.

“Is that what you really think?” She whispered between sharp pants of air.

I paused for a breath, thinking. Elle had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We’d done everything together since we’d met in kindergarten – had sleepovers, gone on vacation. I watched as her wavy blonde ringlets bob up and down with her intense breathing and how her stunning chocolate brown eyes flickered through her quickly shifting emotions.

She was very easy to read, as if her eyes were windows into her soul. You could examine them like a book: anything she was thinking, feeling, wanting, you could see it clear as day. Today was no exception; I could see the way they were burning with anger.

“Yes,” I said, forcing my words to sound clear and strong. “Fuck off and don’t talk to me again.” Our argument replayed over and over in my mind. Although many would think it was a stupid thing to fight about, our strong friendship made it more painful than it should have been.

She tried to speak, but her words kept breaking. Her space-like eyes told me everything. I hate you. I love you. You little bitch. Take that back. What? Is that how you really feel? What about everything we’ve been through?

Elle stood for a few seconds, as if waiting for me to say something more, but I locked my lips shut, refusing to speak for her.

Suddenly she wiped a tear which had escaped from within her, and wiped her hands on her dress. Her face shifted from sadness to resentment, and just as she turned to walk away, she looked me dead in the eyes and spat a strong, ferocious, “fine.” Before I had time to process my emotions, she turned away and strutted confidently towards her sleek black car.

My heart pumped rapidly, trying to convince me to call her back, but I stood with my feet glued securely to the hot concrete floor. I watched as she stepped on the pedal, and her car zoomed away, spewing dust in my face.

For several more seconds I stand, watching the trees sway in the breeze, smelling the dry disgusting car fumes, and allowing myself to calm down.

Then the force of the moment hit me. Why would I say that? Elle is my best friend in the whole world, and in one silly moment, I’d ended it all. As our argument replayed in my head, I lingered on that one simple sentence which had broken our once forever friendship.

Remembering those words was like a knife to my chest, sharp and sudden, everything rushing back in a tsunami of emotion. Tears spilled from my eyes, falling like waterfalls down my cheeks and leaking droplets onto my shirt.

I thought she had betrayed me, but little did I know, it was the other way around.

2 hours later…

I was doom scrolling on my TikTok when I received the call. It was Elle’s number, so I hesitantly picked it up hoping to get an apology, despite the situation being my own fault.

What I was expecting to be Elle - crying or shouting or screaming - turned out to be the kindly voice of an older woman, her voice cracking and sobs clear through the phone.

I couldn’t remember exactly what Elle’s mother said. All I can remember was the feelings that occurred after I was told the merciless truth.

Shock. That’s the first thing that slams into me as I hear those unforgiving words. It’s like my whole world is shattering right in front of my eyes as I digested what she said, with no way to make sense of anything.

“No,” I whisper. My voice was ragged and pained, my mind making no coherent words. It’s not real. It couldn’t be.

But the weight began to settle in my stomach, crushing my once lively soul. My stomach twisted uncomfortably and I thought I might throw up. The anger Elle had felt as she left me on the sidewalk had killed her. She really is gone; I couldn’t believe it. And the last thing I said to her—

Kill me. I felt faint. I couldn’t breathe.

A sob escapes from me, raw and jagged. I try to swallow my cries, but they won’t stop coming. She’s… dead. The thought of it made me cry harder, and I tried to forget Elle’s mum on the other end of the call hearing my ugly whimpers.

I should have run after her, just like my gut told me to. Called her name. Apologised for my cruel words. But I didn’t.

Elle’s mother continued, talking about how they managed to revive her twice, but after the third attempt…

My mind must have hated me as much as I did myself, because all I could think about was the face she pulled right before she turned away – it was filled with hurt, anger, and betrayal: it was all my fault and now I can never take it back.

I shout her name into my brain, hoping the invisible connection we once had would still be there, telling me that she was okay. But it didn’t.

The silence was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.