A girl from the neighboring country moved into my small town. She had an aunt or something there I believe. She couldn't speak the language properly, but got better fast. In the beginning I bullied her the same as everyone else, but she was in the same religion class with me (5 students total, all from different grades, everyone else in the school was from a different religion) and I was forced to get to know her. I didn't like her because she smelled and didn't have real socks, just something that looked like it was cut out from a pantyhose - the cheap kind.
Her mom invited me over and my teacher was pushing me to go since she didn't have any friends. I went, but at first I was just bullshitting her, teaching her made up words. She persisted being nice and I started to like her. She taught me to fish. We used pieces of the cheapest bread you could buy back then as bait. All the fish we caught we brought to her mom and they ate them. I was poor (mom's a hoarder - guess the rest) but her family was so much worse off. They didn't have any furniture. Welfare paid their rent. My family didn't have money most months but her living conditions were just... unacceptable.
I came to know that she, her mom and older sister moved there because their dad died. Now there were two versions of how he died and she didn't know which was true. He was either shot in a forest, or a bear killed him. Either way they couldn't stay there.
Then something I can't understand happened. Her mom committed suicide. I came to school one day and my teacher pulled me aside. She and her sister had been moved to foster care in the next town over cause they were orphans now. I was so angry at her mom. I couldn't believe it.
My school was really nice about it though. The class made a card for her, and the school purchased me a bus ticket so I could visit her since I was her sole friend. The foster home was ok. 10-12 kids, strict rules but she gained weight since for the first time she was eating properly. Her sister adjusted better though.
I wrote her some letters, visited her two more times organized by the foster home. It was okay, but a little weird since we were always supervised.
Now comes the fucked up part. While cycling home from school one day, she and her sister got hit by a truck. The truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. Her older sister died before her eyes. She had no chance. My friend survived relatively unharmed. I don't remember well but I think it was just broken bones.
There was another card made by my class. I talked with her on the phone. Everyone who ever bullied her was feeling guilty as fuck. I don't remember much else. I don't think I could comprehend it at the time. She was moved to another foster home far away, and my family moved even farther away. We lost touch.
I thought about her a lot along the years and tried to look her up but ultimately failed. She somehow found my phone number several years later and I had coffee with her once. It was weird... raw. She went to therapy once a week, but was working and had friends. She was definitely not "ok", but making progress nonetheless.
Neither has reached for the other since. I think it was too exhausting. I did look her up, but she doesn't have a number listed. She has a facebook and I think I might make an account to get her number. I'm just not sure if I should. We'll see.
TL;DR Girl moves to my country, I'm mean to her, become friends, her family members die one after the other.
(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native tongue.)