Once upon a time, there were two sixteen year old girls. One girl
lived a charmed life, like younger, prettier Paris Hilton I suppose.
And the other (let's call her Nicole), she wasn't in Paris' league, but
she was fine. They weren't exactly friends, but they were okay.
Sometimes, they said hi when they passed by each other in the halls at
school but mostly, they just ignored each other.
Life went on.
One night, Paris' dad went jogging, and found himself in the middle
of a particularly bad Mexican soap opera. He was abducted, bound and
brought to a safe house. Turns out Nicole and her boyfriend bet, and
lost, money on the NBA. And the fastest way to pay off their debtors
was to pull a kidnap-for-ransom.
But Nicole was careless, and Paris' dad was lucky: he managed to
escape. He left the safe house and realized that lived two blocks away.
He's fine now.
Nicole's boyfriend was caught but Nicole is still missing.
It was shocking when I found out, and it shocks me still, a little,
right now. These people are supposed to be the people you can trust.
Not trust in a I'll-keep-your-secrets-BFF-4eva kind of way, but trust
at its most essential: I trust you with my life.
But I guess not. And something like this happens, you know everything is just fucked up