Lost Chances

I looked around the empty park, deciding what to do, when I caught a flash of colour coming from behind the small climbing wall. I walked over curiously to find out what it was. A girl, of a similar age, was climbing on it. She appeared to be oblivious that anyone was watching her, and carried on climbing to the top before jumping down with a loud thud.

Poppy looked at the girl. She had a round face, framed by her ringlets of light brown hair which fell messily onto her forehead. "Hi," the girl said confidently, smiling at me. I looked away, shy. I had never been the type to make new friends easily. She carried on talking to me, regardless, "my name is Amy. What's yours?"

After that day, I knew Amy would be my best friend. Everyday in the summer after that, our mums met at the park and we played together through the long days of sun, until darkness crept in, and finally we were separated, grudgingly. Our friendship grew like a blossoming flower, steadily getting stronger. It never crossed my mind that we would be anything but best friends. We would lay beneath the shade of a tree, or race each other next to the brightly coloured boats. Then, when we started school together that Autumn, our friendship only grew.

Sometimes I wonder about how different my life would be if I had never gone to that park on that particular day; If I had never met her. I think about how many happy memories wouldn't have happened. Would I have felt as if there was someone missing, deep in my soul? I guess not. But, I have never regretted meeting her- I just regret what I did.

When we were both 12 years old, things started to change. Amy noticed boys, and wanted to wear make up. We grew apart gradually,as I changed schools and she made new friends. We simply didn't have the same interests. There were more arguments, when we did meet up. It was over such little things, but then the next minute we would be friends again- and I never had more fun with anyone else. I always cherished her, however much she hurt me, and however much we shouted. We were just so different. At 14, I knew I wanted to be a lawyer; it had been a distant dream for some time, but I started to work hard at school to make it a reality.

Amy didn't bother at school. She thought her parents would always be there, to help her out. I tried to make her understand that she needed her qualifications, but she just didn't care. I guess I can't blame myself for her failings, but I do.

At the age of 20, we had absolutely nothing in common. She was dating an alcoholic and already had a young daughter. I didn't hear much from Amy, but she regularly added photos of her nights out onto Facebook. Somehow I lost her number, and slowly we drifted apart from each other. I didn't think about her much, she was just a childhood friend who had been forgotten.

I had done relatively well for myself. After taking a gap year for work, I started University to study law with four A*'s at A-level. I was quite proud of myself, and my parents often praised me on being the only one of their four children to go to university.

One day in December, shortly before the Christmas holidays while I was at uni, I had an unexpected phone call. At the time, I was preparing dinner for me and my flatmates, but I stopped to answer my phone/

"Hey" I said brightly, expecting my Dad's reply.

"It's Amy."

There was a long silence, as I drew in a sharp breath. I hadn't seen or spoken to her in so many years, what would I say? Her voice sounded different; it had a weary tone to it, different from her usual lively chatter I remembered so well.

"Hi Amy...how are things?" I asked brightly, having no idea why she was calling.

"Well, not so good-" I heard a snuffle, was she crying? A male's voice in the background interrupted her speech. There was a long pause, where I almost ended the call.

"Amy? Are you there? Are you alright?" I asked, steadily getting more anxious. Even after all this time, I still cared for her, and she sounded upset.

"Um...I was wondering if I could stay with you, for a while," she was whispering now, her breath hissing nervously.

"Uh, I don't see why not. I share a flat near my University- I guess you could crash on the sofa?" Even as I said it, I knew it was a bad move. How could my old school friend, and undoubtedly, her daughter, stay in this cramped flat?

"Oh, thank you so much," she gushed, still whispering. After telling her the address, I hung up, feeling worried.

Two days later, I arrived home to find Amy on my doorstep. I almost walked past her, not recognizing her gaunt frame. Her once youthful face was now an echo of what it had been. Her cheekbones stood out hideously, and the most shocking thing was her eyes; they were so...empty.

I forced a smile onto my face, taking in the young girl holding her mother's hand. She was cowering behind Amy's legs, wearing a look of mistrust. "Hi, Amy," I said cheerfully, unlocking the front door. I bent down to her daughter's height, "and what's your name?" I asked. The girl stared at me, backing away. "Her name is Ellen," Amy smiled slightly, walking through the open door. I offered drinks to both of them, and they hungrily ate the Pasta I served, as if they hadn't eaten in weeks.

Amy confided in me that Adam, her boyfriend, had hit her once. But she reassured me that he had left to live with his parents, and when she went back to her house he wouldn't be there. She was lying.

They stayed for a week and a half, spending Christmas with me. Gradually, Ellen learned to trust me, and Amy looked much healthier. Amy didn't reveal much about her relationship with Adam, telling me they had just had 'a silly argument', and I never once questioned her for too long. I guess I half wanted her to leave; she wasn't contributing to my rent, and I hate to admit it, but they were costing me a lot of time and money.

It was a relief when they left, with hugs and promises to talk soon. Ellen wrapped her arms around my legs, and I lifted her into the air, cuddling her small frame. Amy smiled sadly, thanking me for my hospitality as she left, looking more hopeful than she had in a while.

I never saw her alive again.