Open Letter to My Friend who Tried to Kill Me

by Camille Ballentine about a year ago in guilty

I will never forgive you.

Open Letter to My Friend who Tried to Kill Me

Five years we shared a close friendship, five years of my life I trusted you. We had our rocky times. Just like any friends we had our disagreements. Yet as I grew in those years, you decided to destroy yourself in every way you could. Ying and yang was what we were, while I was light you were dark. Everyone around us always wondered how the two of us became friends, or how I even stuck around for as long as I did. I brushed off the comments. I ignored people's worry because I swore I knew you better. I was always the one to turn the other way at gossip, never one to listen to rumors, just wasn't my style.

You were into death metal. I was into punk rock. You had a dark twisted humor. I was sarcastic at best. You liked to do drugs,.I did not want to risk an addiction. I had pulled you out of so many things, held your hair back while you spilled the alcohol from your guts. You used to drink so much you couldn’t remember who you were, drank yourself until you could forget all the demons that talked to you inside your head.

I stood by you for so long. I loved you like my friend no matter whatever happened. I was there when even the people you call family gave up on you. No matter what you did, no matter how mad I got at you, I was always ready to forgive. I dealt with all those crazy ex-girlfriends, I always tried to drag you to rehab even though it wouldn’t last for long. I always tried to keep you away from the people who would set you back. I always tried.

And the one time I needed you, the one time I was broken and hurt, you tried to kill me as if I never mattered at all. My body has healed, my mind and heart sadly have not. This time I’ve tossed in the towel. I wish you nothing but failure after all I’ve been through, all the lies you had told me over the years. That night was the worst night of my life. I came to you for help yet what I got in return was hands wrapped around my neck. All I got was one of the worst nights I have ever had. All I got was something that changed me.

The night this all happened, I bet you can’t even remember, so let me fill you in. My ex and I finally broke up, having to move back to my parents that night. With a broken heart, I sought you out. You always knew how to make me laugh and cheer me up. I hadn’t seen you in a year. Work always kept me away. My ex always kept me away. The one good thing he did for me was keep you at bay for a year with you only calling a few times to catch up. When I got to your new place, I could already tell you were pretty much gone. I could barely keep the disappointment off my face. Slurring your words, stumbling over the mountain of trash you had in your home. You offered me a drink. I turned it down due to how filthy the place was, even though I did not say that out loud. I grew up with manners after all.

I was struggling to move around the trash, so it was no surprise when you kept falling, sloshing your drink as you went. As we made it to your kitchen, trying to reach the back room, I stumbled trying to catch myself. I accidentally hit your guitar. Before the words could come out of my mouth my back met the floor. Taken by surprise I couldn’t react in time. After all, I stand only 5' 3" and 120 pounds, while you stood well over 61 and a buck fifty. It wasn’t a fair fight. Even if I had seen it coming, I most likely wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Before I could react, a foot met my head roughly. I had cried out from the pain. This must have angered you more because the next thing I know your hand wrapped tightly into my hair, pulling and ripping my brown hair as you dragged me into the living room. I couldn’t help but scream and try to pull myself from the grip you had on me. Letting me go finally, you stood over me. As I tried to scramble myself up from the filthy floor, I was met with your fist slamming into my face, sending me back to the floor. I can barely remember much after that, after you got on top of me. Hands wrapping around my neck, squeezing while screaming words I cannot remember. I am happy I don’t. It’s a small blessing. While you squeezed my neck, you slammed my head a few times into the floor after the second time my world went black.

When I had awoken, I was outside on the side of the road dazed, my phone lying next to me. I had called for help as I laid there watching cars pass me by. I was told the guy downstairs had heard my screams, heard my head being slammed into the floor. He heard the banging long after I had already stopped screaming, so you must have kept your attack going long after I passed out, I believe the guy downstairs saved my life. If he wasn’t home, if he didn’t make the noise that he did, I am sure you would have kept going and I wouldn't be here writing this.

I didn’t notice at the time until my father and cops showed up with the ambulance that my shirt was missing along with my shoes. It wouldn’t be until I was in the hospital that I noticed that you also took my wallet. It would be an act of a kind stranger that found the wallet you ditched blocks over, who took the time to message me on FaceBook to tell me he found my wallet. My face was bloody and bruised, along with my neck and ribs, down my back and my legs. I had a bruised kidney, with a jaw I could hardly open for a few weeks. The worst of it was the bite mark, the scabbing around my half-ripped nipple that you bit so hard into. What would you have done if the guy downstairs didn’t hear me? My body has since healed from the attack months ago. My heart has not. I live in fear every day waiting for you to finally go to jail because I cannot feel safe in my backyard at night without feeling like you will step from the shadows to get revenge on me pressing charges.

What shocked me the most was when I sat down with the DEA, they informed me this was not the first time with you. That you had spent two years in prison in Texas for burning an ex-girlfriend’s house. After you got out, you beat another girl. A month before you did this to me, you beat a pregnant woman bloody—thankfully, she and the baby recovered. For now, I am your last victim while you face your sentence which sadly isn’t long enough, one year and a few months. I have given my story. I will stand up at your sentencing to let the judge know what I think of you. Because I know I won’t be the last girl you hurt. I might be the last you might leave alive since that is the path you are going down. I fear that the next girl might not make it, that she will perish under your deadly grasp. I do not believe in god, but if there is one he heard my prayers to help give the next girl strength to get away.

I will never forgive you. I will never forget what you did to me and I hope karma finds you soon. I don’t know why you attacked me. I didn’t do anything to you. It will never make sense, and I can come to terms with that, because it doesn’t matter why you did it. All I need to know was my once best friend tried to kill me.

What I want to say to everyone who has ever been attacked by a friend, family, lover, do not let it go. Do not be silenced! Speak out, tell someone, and make sure you tell the cops.

guilty
How does it work?
Read next: Eliminating Bail
Camille Ballentine

I am still finding my way in life.

See all posts by Camille Ballentine