Damage Case: I still know you hurt my best friend

You know what's one of the hardest parts of growing up? As the years slowly pass, and you shift from child through teenager and into adult, your problems and worries also do. They become heavier weights burdening your aging back and dragging you down, forcing you to stoop lower. Ever lower, as you're hurt, lost, torn, grieving, cheated and lied to. But that's not the worst part, because somehow, we're always braver when it comes to us, aren't we? We're survivors. Resilient. We know we'll make it. We can take a little damage. We're alright. Besides, memory is a shifty mistress, often shielding you from what you don't want to see.
So no, it's not the worst. The worst is having to watch your friends go through the same things. The worst is staring, motionless, helpless, as they stoop. As they are dragged down.

We all know one, so I won't go into specifics. Point is, we've all had a friend (more like a dozen) whom we've watched get hurt and whom we've not been able to stop. It's usually about a partner, isn't it? Although it could easily be about cocaine. The behavior is very similar. They always go back. But no, for this post, I will limit myself to the all-too-frequent situation of the bad boyfriend. Or girlfriend. But since I'm a girl and so are most of my friends, I see more of the bad boyfriend, than the bad girlfriend. But it goes both ways.

The case is as follows:
Your best friend meets a guy. A wonderful guy, a sweet guy. Her sun and stars. And he becomes the reason behind her every smile. Her eyes turn soft (and oh so sweet) when she talks about him. And she tells you, in glowing words about him, about the great guy he is, how happy they are together, and hints he could really be the one.
But then, one night, you get a midnight call. Or it's a text at two in the afternoon. Or it's a knock on the door. Behind it, there's your friend – disheveled, makeup running down her face, not quite able to breathe from all the sobbing. And you know it's bad news, you see what you should've seen two months ago when they first got together, but how could you? You wanted to believe it would be alright. You expected the very best for her.

He's done something – cheated, lied, hurt – and now it's your job to pick up the pieces. And you console her in every way you can. You tell her it will be alright. And a little part of you dies as you watch your friend hurt and you can't do anything to help her. Worse, you couldn't do anything to prevent her from hurting. But time passes, slowly, but surely. And she gets better. Maybe not much better. But you can see a difference. And you know that it will be okay. She will get over it.
And then the next day – or the next week – he's back, and you watch all the pieces of herself she's put back up crumble down. All the barriers, gone. And he tells her that he'll never hurt her again and that it – whatever it was – will never happen again. And she buys that. The fool buys it, because she's too in love to care. And she wants to buy it. She doesn't want to let go, not when it was going so well.
The offense and the time since get put in a bubble and stored away somewhere. It's like it never happened.
And you're left there, baffled and frustrated because you haven't forgotten. You know it did happen. You know what he did, you know that he hurt her, yet you have to pretend like he didn't, because you can't very well go “he cheated on you; the bastard will do it again”. You'll lose your friend, because she doesn't want to hear it and will see you as a bad friend.
So, you either speak your mind AKA the truth and very likely lose your friend; or you keep silent.

Most of us keep silent. Most of us are patient. We will wait, for as long as it takes. More than that, we have an excellent memory. My friend may have “forgotten” what you did, but I never will. Even if I pretend like everything's fine, I know you cheated or hurt her in some way. I remember you are not to be trusted and I watch you with weary eyes. Hawk eyes.
No matter how many times my friend tells me what a great person you are, I will recall the facts. I will recall her tear-streaked face.
See, friends don't forget. It may seem like we do. But we don't.
The first time, you caught me unprepared. I really did hope everything would be okay, and like her, I didn't expect things to fall apart. Luckily, I was not so in love with you and I was able to deal with the mess you left behind.
But honey, you ain't catching me out the second time around.

This is a sort of oath that all good friends take in their hearts. It may sounds malevolent, in a way, like you're not supposed to believe in second chances or something. But it's not. It's not meant to be mean. But you know what they say about trust – once it's gone, it ain't coming back. Plus, you only want the best for your friend. It's your job, it's what you signed up for. You hope they're not going to get hurt a second time. You'd like to believe that.
Hope for the best, assume the worst.

Sadly, it doesn't work for all the people in your life. While this very logic seems sound when it comes to your friend (whom you love dearly), it's completely absurd when it comes to you. What I'm trying to say is that we play both roles in life. We're both the best friend and the one who gets hurt, we, in turn, also forget and turn a blind eye when somebody hurts us. Luckily, our friends don't. And that way, we sustain each other. Friends look out for each other, it gives them balance.