Wherefor art thou?

She was 17 when I met her. Light and bubbly, we both became fast friends and giggled together at the concession stand while waiting for customers to show up. Her parents hated the dimunitive "Lizzy" that she preferred, and the few times I called I made sure to address her by her birth name.
I found her phone number tonight, while digging through some old belongings... trying to clean up. She'd given it to me in hopes of joining my gaming group, but I used it for social reasons... and she didn't mind. I haven't spoken to her since '94. The last night I saw her, she wouldn't talk to me. She never came back.

She went on break after 3 hours, in order to talk to her ex-boyfriend. She was nervous, and most of us asked if she wanted help, but she turned us down. It was a Tuesday night, and nobody was in the parking lot. He drove a large truck, with the extra roomy cab. It was raining, and the few lights above reflected on the blacktop, making the whole thing look oily and uninviting.

Her break ended, and she wasn't there. It was weird, and I began to worry. I danced behind the counter, and asked others if they'd seen her, but it didn't help.
Thirty minutes passed, then 40. At fourty-five the front doors opened. Her shirt had been torn.

Oh.
Dear.
God.

That thing drove off loudly, but I swallowed my bile and opened myself to my friend. She needed someone to be there for her.

She flinched away from me, walking to the managers office to make a phone call that would take her away... forever.