He broke you into little tiny pieces. And I put your back together, one shattered piece at a time. He almost destroyed your soul. You lost part of yourself because of what he did to you. So I stayed with you, I helped you find yourself and I put you back together. Then life was okay again. Peaceful, if you will. Then he broke me, destroyed my heart and made me question everything. Where were you when I needed someone to put me back together? Where were you when I needed help? Nowhere to be found. So I put myself back together. I dealt with it alone, by myself. So fast forward two years later. Here we are now. We're no longer friends, you and I. He and I are no longer friends. I've moved on. Mostly. But you're involved with him again. How much, I honestly don't know. But I know you. And I know him. And I know you won't survive if he tears you apart again. So I'm scared for you. I still care about you, I always will. We were as close as sisters for the longest time. And now I'm scared for you and for what might happen.