She seems so glad to spend time together. Maybe it's because she doesn't know me. "Your friends think you're one thing," Nails likes to say, "but I know the truth. And the truth is that you're a snake, Meredith, an angry, angry girl. Anger twists you, you know that? It changes you. It ruins you."
Takes one to know one, now doesn't it?
...
And still. Matt's text sitting, waiting, drumming its pixels with impatience.
My finger, taking on a life of its own. Telling him that he hurt me, betrayed me, all the things a friend doesn't do. I don't want to talk to you again. That's what I tell him. That's what I say. That's what I write, and then I make myself send it before I chicken out and erase the whole damn thing.
Only then can the tears come. But they don't. The cut is too damn deep to bleed.
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