Starting Over, I Tear Apart the Fake and Poisonous Best Friend

This dynamic wasn’t anything new. It had been this way since middle school.

Back then, my parents had split up, and my father spent most of his time working away from home. As a result, I grew up shy and insecure, constantly feeling like I didn’t belong.

Maeve was the only one who showed me any kindness.

At first, she truly seemed like a good friend. But gradually, she began taking things from me – pens I liked, new hairpins I’d bought.

If I showed even a hint of hesitation or reluctance, she’d get upset.

“Aren’t best friends supposed to share everything? If you’re going to be this selfish, I won’t hang out with you anymore! See? Nobody likes you but me. I’m the only one who bothers to be your friend.”

Under her constant emotional manipulation, I would even give her my breakfast and spend most of my allowance on her.

Just one sentence about how I was her best friend, and I would do anything for her.

But who would have thought that this so-called “best friend” would end up killing me?