One |

                                    

                                          
One | 
"Poppy, This is boring," Mia yawned loudly.  
I sent her a look, which made her chuckle. It must be nice to not have to study for any courses but I was not that person. Mattia understood, he was a perfectionist too; but Mia didn't quite understand. I was sure she could fail an essay and be perfectly content with that.  
"It's only boring because you're a genius," I muttered.  
A smirk painted across her red lips, "I am, aren't I?" 
My head shook as I tapped the blue pen against my notebook. At this rate I'd fail the exam. It was funny, she didn't even care about philosophy. Hell, she was only enrolled in a minor in philosophy because it was my major. Yet she was doing amazing and I was studying every night just to get an eighty. She was my best friend and biggest rival—without her I couldn't have the push to still be in university.  
"When are we leaving?" She sighed, standing up to stretch her arms over her head, "Want to crash at my place? Saves you from going home."  
"Uh," I pause, "Maybe." 
She gives me a perfect smirk, "Unless you want a night to yourself and your vibrator."  
My eyes widen, "That's not very nice."  
She yawns lazily, "Oh my pretty, silly girl; you need a man who can fuck faster than that thing can vibrate. We can hit up the club? Find a nice man who will—"  
"No," I cut in, "No distractions. I know what you're doing." 
"Fine. All the more reason to go to my place."   
I glanced at the clock, it was almost ten which meant the library would be closing soon. I dreaded going home so late. It didn't seem to matter that I lived alone, I just felt horrible coming home to my dark apartment late at night. She was right about that. The only thing waiting for me at home was my goddamn vibrator.   
My teeth dug into my lip and I nodded. I'd practically been living at her place lately anyways, but I guess some thing never changed. I ran my fingers anxiously across my arms, trying to generate warmth to soothe my high anxiety. It was times like these that I felt the burden that I was to her. It seemed like she was always stuck with me.  
"Hey," she said loudly, "Stop that." 
I paused looking over at her, "Sorry."  
"Don't be," her voice dropped to a soft tone, "You're scratching."  
My eyes grew wide as I looked down at my arms—she was right. I'd began scratching unconsciously at my skin. I didn't know when the habit formed but she was always the one to ground me back to reality. I relaxed slightly and reminded myself that I wasn't a burden to her.  
We'd been friends since kindergarten; this would be our fourteenth year as friends. We wouldn't be so close if she really thought I was a burden. I shifted my gaze to the reflection of myself in my glass water bottle. I looked like a mess: my blonde locks were lazily pulled back into a pony tail, my blue eyes seemed dull and my skin was as pale as ever. The only difference was the makeup I put on this morning had begun to crack and run in places.  
"Yeah, yeah let's pack up," I sighed.  
I wasn't in the mood to study any more anyways.  
She cracked a smile—I didn't understand it. She'd put her makeup on at the same time as me, we'd done our makeup together at six in the morning in the university's bathroom and it didn't look it. She looked perfect and flawless—like she'd done it only minutes ago.  
"Finally!" She chirped, "I'm so hungry!"  
I giggled at that, and stood. We began packing up all our stuff—she finished faster than me before she turned to start shoving my papers into my bag. My eyes narrowed but I didn't say anything. Once we were done, she practically ran for the exit.  
"Mia wait up," I laughed, chasing after her.  
The librarian gave us a dirty look as we passed.  
"Vai a cagare," she hissed in her direction.  
I gasped, "Mia!" 
I didn't understand Italian but I understood enough of the little bits and pieces from over the years and those words were not very nice. She turned to me and smiled innocently. As we pushed open the glass doors and got outside, a cool breeze pushed past us. I let out a cry as a paper fell from my bag and danced in the wind.  
"Shit," I cursed, "Wait a second!"  
I pumped my legs, running after the paper before smashing it into the ground with my foot. No doubt I'd leave a nice foot print but whatever, they were all crinkled by now anyways. I picked up the paper and I'm glad I did: it was my analysis on Nietzsche's "God is dead" argument. That shit was confusing enough without me losing my detailed notes on it. I bent down to pick it up, and as I did I could hear the squeal of tires.  
I looked up quickly, "Mia—"       
All words left me.
I wish time slowed. Maybe if it did, I'd have more time. But time didn't slow—time sped up and so did the BMW that probably cost more than my life. It stopped beside Mia and for a brief moment I could see pure fear in her eyes. I looked back to the car, the passenger side window rolled down and an arm poked out. In it's grasp a gun. The arm wore a suit jacket in blue, and a little spider tattoo showed from the man's wrist.  
I could feel a cold terror fill me as I stumbled forward, the paper flying free of my hand and into the wind behind me. I kept moving forward, my hand outstretched towards my friend. She looked over for me, and for a single moment—a moment so quick I wondered if it ever happened—she smiled.  
"No!" I cried.  
The gun went off and I watched the bullet tear a hole through my best friend's brain. I let out a horrible scream as her body fell back, blood dripping from her forehead. I couldn't hear anything but screaming. Everything was a blur after that.  
I was sobbing and screaming. 
Blue and red lights danced around me.  
Someone pulled me away from her but I couldn't stop screaming.  
"Poppy! Poppy! Poppy!"  
I could hear someone calling my name but what did it matter?  
Mia was dead.