Lain smacked the cymbal hard, still fuming. Zina was really going to put her over the edge one of these days. She felt like an idiot for trying to be her friend for so long. There was no way that could last anymore. It was time to get herself out of this relationship, or at the very least, out of the apartment. She had been hoping she could get over her feelings and still have Zina in her life, but there was no way. It felt toxic. The girl had no clue what on earth she wanted, and whenever she got an idea, she would poke at it and then withdraw like it was on fire. She was like a cat. Sometimes she would seize the string and gnaw the shit out of it, but most of the time she would bat at it and then run away. She was most comfortable with her independence.
It had been like that from the start, and Lain had done her best to be there for her through thick and thin. The two were inseparable, and had done everything together. Not long after they met, Zina had shown up at school with her wrists and shoulder covered in dark purple bruises. Lain had whisked her to the bathroom, demanding to know what happened. Finally, after she had sworn on her life to keep a terrible secret, she discovered that Zina’s mother had a boyfriend who got his hands on her any chance he got.
Whenever Zina told her that her mom’s boyfriend would be around, Lain would demand Karl to pick up her friend. The three of them would drive around until the asshole left, or take her back to Lain’s house if her parents weren’t home. Most of the time they weren’t, and they would hide out in Lain’s bedroom. Whenever Lain was busy but Zina needed a way out, Karl was there. The girl had grown on him over the years, and he treated her with the tenderness and firm authority of a father, the same way he treated Lain.
What Lain hadn’t understood for a long time was just how troubled Zina was. Hell, fucked up was more like it. She lived on her own planet, and sometimes it was like she wasn’t even in the room with you. When they were kids, she had told Lain that she felt like a ghost, as if her body wasn’t even really there. It surprised her when she was reminded of its presence, and she would often overreact when she was startled by something as harmless as a splash of water. It had been a constant source of frustration for Lain, who was impulsive and mischievous.
For a long time it was hard for her to wrap her head around their differences. She didn’t fully understand what it might have meant to live in poverty until one day Zina had come to school surly and distant. Finally, Lain got her to admit that the gas was off in her apartment, so she had to take a cold shower that morning and she hadn’t eaten since two days before. But what had really blown Lain’s mind was when they were sixteen and she had picked Zina up for a joyride. They parked on an unused overpass and stared out at the trees and river below. It had been silent until Zina spoke.
“If I asked you to kill somebody, you would.”
Lain frowned and tilted her head, and Zina had punched the stone railing. She started to cry, and Lain rushed to her side as the words started pouring out. Zina told her how her mother’s boyfriend had preferred her over her mother. How her mother blamed her for it and favored her little brother, spoiling him to the point that he was a repulsive, self-obsessed human being. How the woman had no motivation to stop it from happening, and if Zina ever tried to tell her mother about all the ways the man would use her, she’d get screamed at and called a liar. How her mother and her boyfriend would take pills with their alcohol and laugh when her tiny brother put cigarettes in his mouth.
As the years passed, Lain learned more and more about Zina’s life, and the pieces started coming together. Her heart would break as she saw her go through severe downs, and ups that only lasted a short while because they were brought on by some crazy, self-destructive impulse. She watched again and again as the girl fell on her face, tried to pick herself up again, then ended up deeper down than she was before. She would try to warn her and offer her hand, but Zina wouldn’t listen. She would do whatever the hell she wanted to do, running further and further away from the things she really wanted. Worse, she would avoid what she really needed, and stay stuck in the lifestyle she was used to – living without.
It had been Lain’s idea to get the apartment together. She loved Zina blindly and loyally, and put her first before everyone else in the world. Her love had developed before the pity, and now she was stuck with far too much knowledge about a girl who would never take the first step toward her own happiness. Not when she could get away with lying in a ditch and watching the rest of the world go on around her. Lain had finally convinced her father to invest in a studio where Zina could express herself. Lain and her parents had done their best to point their friends and associates in Zina’s direction whenever they needed something artistic done, and she had been slowly gaining a sense of self worth through her work. It was a start, and Lain had never seen her so happy.
Still, the bullshit with Damien and Kylie was too much. Living with the girl she cared most about in the world, who was still half blind to her own worth, was too much. They were just going to have to go their separate ways, or she would never be able to move on and live her life, maybe never have a real, uninhibited relationship with someone. Zina would never admit that she needed help, and to the rest of the world, she simply looked proud, beautiful, and strong. Talented and unique. Gorgeous. But Lain saw beyond all of that. She knew all there was to know, and did her best to help hug Zina’s pieces back in place. But she couldn’t do it anymore. It was time for her to move on.