THE STORY ABOUT MY BEST FRIEND

Helen Keller once said "walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."

This is not just a story of the life of my best friend and I. This is a story written to acclaim the power to overcome all the little and big troubles she dealt with.

I remember the first time she told me about her dream to pursue law in National Law University, two years ago. I didn't comprehend her determination then. Now, when she tells me she wants to work at the UN, I believe she will.  

She is someone who can balance between her personal life and her ambitions. At first, when she decided to take a break year to study law, I told myself, "how is she going to do this?" 

I remember when I began my journey at Christ University, she was at home and she texted, "dude everyone's going to college and I'm so bored at home." I got a little worried. 365 days is a long time. I'd make sure she didn't feel lonely. A few months passed, she didn't complain anymore. She had found new friends, more ambition and more hard work. I knew she'd crack CLAT. I knew she'd win. I was still scared. I wondered if she'd stay here with me. Every time I needed to cry or laugh with. Every time I needed nutella from her refrigerator. Every time I needed her. 

She's been my inspiration from the day she spoke her heart out about her dreams. Now, it's not like she's not fun. She's the most hilarious person ever. She has the most embarrassing yet humorous stories. She can't cry for some reason. I cry enough for both of us so I guess we balance things out that way. She knows me. In and out. She lets me do whatever I want to and shows no sign of judging me. I don't recall us fighting. There was one argument that ended in an hour or so. Now, I don't know if that's normal but I completely love it and proud of it. 

All I have to say is I love her. She's family.

FULL STOPS AND MORE.....

"Shh! Don't open your filthy mouth, you spoiled brat", he cried.

Clamorous voices gushed through her head. Agonizing bruises. Bloody nose. Bloody teardrops. Her gentle hands were tied to a seemingly tall pole. Her moist lips contained fissures. A fair piece of greasy cloth was crammed into her mouth. He didn't forget about her muddy legs as he tied them with a thick white rope. He wore a dark mask. He was called "two faced" by his colleagues. He didn't think it was funny, nonetheless, he had come to accept the sly name. The others wore a gray scarf around their scarred faces. They took turns to guard the girl and provide her stale food. 

She wept at night and tried to bawl for help during the day.

It had been twelve days. She had been counting. She recalled her last night with her mother. They were playing scrabble. Her mother was going to let her win, as always. Suddenly, they heard deep voices hurling behind the grand oak wood windows. She pressed her hand against her mother's and started to bite her nails. Fear raged like an appalling gale. 

*Bam* 

"Mom! They broke in", she whispered. She had put on an act of valor.

"Stay here, baby girl. I'll protect you", her mother soon rushed to the kitchen. When she returned with a knife, she saw them. She wiped her tears and realized that one of them was pointing a black weapon towards her. She stood still and dropped the knife. 

"Please!", she cried. 

When the little girl opened her eyes, she saw the stale food before her. 

It had been twelve days and she had been counting. 

He took his mask off and beamed with a sense of accomplishment. Raindrops leaked from the ceiling. The dampened ground began to dry faster than usual. He walked staggeringly and touched her face. 

She wondered who would find her new bicycle. The fancy pink one her mother had gifted. Then she remembered her mother's lullaby. "The three little pigs" was her favorite bed time story. She often wondered why anyone would destroy someone's house, someone's family. Maybe she never found her answer. 

"11 year old girl raped and murdered", read the headlines of a few newspapers.

"Mother of a 11 year old girl found dead at her home", read the headlines of a few other newspapers.