My Ex Best Friend Bethany

---

Trigger Warning: This post contains references to grooming, sexual assault, emotional manipulation, and toxic friendships. Please take care while reading.

By Louise C Kay

I was nothing special. I just existed.
I dreamt of being noticed in the right ways—but of course, that never happens to someone like me.

Then things changed. I found hope.
It didn’t last, but it was with me for a brief, unforgettable moment in my life.

It was the start of a new school year. Same kids in my year. Same gossip. Same jokes.
Nothing special… until she walked in.
The class went silent for a second. She had multicoloured hair down to her shoulders, a gothic twist on the school uniform, and a presence that made everyone stare. Her individuality, confidence, and beauty were magnetic.

And then the noise resumed.
She walked around the room, scanning for a seat. There were a few empty spots—but she chose to sit with me.
Me. Of all people.

She introduced herself: Bethany. I introduced myself: Darcy.
I was nervous—like a celebrity had just sat down beside me.
People stared, probably wondering why a girl like her would choose to sit with me.
I wondered the same.

But we got talking. We actually had a lot in common… though sometimes I pretended we did, just to keep her close. She was amazing.
I slowly tried to morph myself into her. I changed how I looked. But I never pulled it off like she did.

The boys at school were like dogs in heat around her. She dated nearly everyone—boys in our year, the year below, the year above.
She was wanted.
Me? Even though I had Bethany, I was invisible. I was just her shadow—the third wheel.

Bethany got bored very easily with boys, but she never had the heart to dump them. That was my job.
I would call them, tell them it was over.
I had to deal with their rejection. Most of them blamed me.
I could see why she didn’t want to do it herself—but it started to get to me.
Eventually, I asked her to do it. I didn’t want to be the bad person anymore.
I explained how these guys were affecting me.

Bethany didn’t like this one bit.
She stopped talking to me.

I panicked. I needed her. She was my only friend.
I apologised. I begged.
And after a week, she forgave me. It was a relief, I nearly lost her, and I didnt know how I could live without her.

Buit after that brief moment of Bethnay nearly walking out my life, she then started asking more questions about me. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt like I was being investigated for a crime.
Then she asked:
“Have you ever been kissed?”

I was nearly fifteen. The answer was no.
It was embarrassing.
I saw the pity in her eyes—and then she made a suggestion.
Did I want her to kiss me, so I’d know how it felt?

I didn’t know how to answer… but I didn’t want to lose her.
So I agreed.

I never thought a girl would be my first kiss. I always thought I was straight.
But now… I wasn’t sure.

I wasn’t sure if I was in love with her.
But she was like a drug—and I was addicted.

She helped me improve how I looked—slightly.
But compared to her, I would never be beautiful.
I think she knew that, too.

The more I stayed, the more lost I became.
I started to forget who I really was.
I listened to music I didn’t even like—bands I couldn’t stand—just because she loved them.
Everyone noticed how I was evolving into her.

I was called a wannabe—and they were right.
I did want to be her.
And maybe… I wanted to be with her.

My head was a mess.

Then came the day our friendship was tested.

A boy named Matthew came into our lives—and for once, he was interested in me, not Bethany.

He was my first boyfriend.
The first boy I kissed.
And Bethany hated it.

She was single at the time, and she didn’t like being the third wheel.
That was my role—not hers.
She wasn’t happy for me. She told me to leave him—that he was no good.

The tension grew, but we still hung out.
The atmosphere was thick—sometimes suffocating.

Then came the house party.
We all went—Bethany, Matthew, and me.

It was the first time I’d ever drunk alcohol.
I didn’t know my limits.
I got wasted and blacked out.

I woke up under a duvet in a strange room, scared.
I was aware—but I couldn’t move.
Then I heard Matthew.

At first, I felt relieved.
He’d protect me, right?

But I was wrong.
He was the danger.

He took the duvet off.
He started touching me—places no one should touch without consent.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight.
But I was paralysed.
My mind was screaming, but my body wouldn’t respond.

He started removing my clothes.
I’d never let anyone see my body before. I wasn’t ready.

He didn’t stop for a long time.
It was like I wasn’t human—just a doll he could play with.
Eventually, he stopped. Maybe he got bored and left.

I must’ve blacked out again.

When I woke up next, I could move.
I scrambled for my clothes and put them back on.

I searched the house for Bethany.
I needed her.
She’d been right about Matthew.

But she was gone.

Two people outside smoking said she’d left hours ago.

She left me.
Alone.

That hurt—but I brushed it away.

I went home.
I scrubbed my skin until it bled, trying to wash him off me.
I felt disgusted.
I hated my body. It was tainted—and I was trapped in it.

Matthew tried calling.
I ignored him.
I sent one text: It’s over.

Maybe that was cowardly.
But after what he did… I never wanted to see him again.

I kept calling Bethany.
She wouldn’t answer.
I needed her. Why wasn’t she answering?

Eventually, she picked up.

I told her everything.

She asked, “Did he have sex with you?”
I said no—but that he undressed me and touched me.

She laughed.
“Well, it’s not exactly rape, is it? He was your boyfriend. Boyfriends are allowed to do that. I think you’re overreacting.”

I felt stupid.
Maybe I was overreacting?

But I still didn’t want to see him.
I felt ashamed. I hated it.

Later, Bethany asked if I wanted to hang out.
I said yes.
I needed girl time.

But when I arrived at the park… she was with Matthew.

He was now single—and Bethany had decided to date him.

We’d broken up only hours earlier.

She knew what he’d done to me.
She knew how I felt.
But she brought him anyway.
She made me hang out with them.

I stayed for a bit.
Stupidly.

But watching them kiss and laugh—like I wasn’t even there—was too much.
Like the night before never happened.
Like what he did didn’t matter.

I got up and walked away.
They called after me, but I didn’t stop.

That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I was disgusted. Hurt. Angry. Depressed.
Every negative emotion hit me at once.

I couldn’t stop replaying everything in my head:
The party.
The conversation with Bethany.
Seeing them together.

And then it hit me.

She was never really my friend.
I was just someone who made her feel better.
She never cared about me.

I saw who she truly was.

I had lost myself trying to fit into her world.
I confused admiration with love.
I believed I loved her.
But I didn’t even know myself anymore.
And she never had to change for me.

Now she was dating the boy who hurt me.

Why would she do that—knowing what he did?

That was when I knew: I had to end it.

I blocked her.
I ignored her at school.

Yes, I was alone again.
But I started doing what I liked.
Listening to the music I enjoyed.
Wearing clothes I wanted.

I felt free.

It was hard at first.
Because I did have a kind of love for her.
It was complicated.

She made me feel something I’d never felt before.
Maybe I was gay.
Maybe I was confused.

It took years to find myself again.
I lost trust in people.
It was hard to let anyone in.

Because I could never bear to go through a betrayal like that again.

Reflection:
Many of us try to change ourselves to be accepted by people we think are good for us. Sometimes change can be positive… but other times, it’s the worst mistake we can make. Let me be clear:
It is never okay for anyone to touch your body without your consent — no matter what anyone says.
For a long time, I believed I was overreacting. It’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve truly realised:
I had every right to feel upset and angry.
I was not in the wrong.
They were.
They should be the ones living in survival mode — not me. I’ve lost many good years hiding away, too scared to go to certain places, too afraid to fully live, haunted by flashbacks.
But the truth is — I should have been the one living freely, boldly, joyfully.
They should have been the ones with the panic attacks.
They should have been the ones living in fear. If anyone out there has been through something similar, please know:
You are not alone.
You did not deserve this.
I hear you. I see you.
And I believe you. Love,
Louise xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

© 2025 Louise C Kay. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission.