They were neighbors on a country road, two girls who became best friends, bouncing on a trampoline, expanding a tree house to three stories, collecting berries in the meadow and mashing them into a paste.

For a while, they went to the same church, where they were angels in a play and passed notes during the service.

Alyssa Giannini, 18, still has some of the notes, written when she and Mae Davis were in middle school. They were scrawled in pencil on church bulletins.

"This one is me talking about a guy, and Mae talking about how she likes a guy," said Alyssa, deciphering the squiggles.

Partly because of a guy and partly because Mae was home schooled while Alyssa took the bus each morning, the pair started to spend less and less carefree time together.

Funny how that happens. As girls, they had talked of living next door when they grew up, of having Alyssa's brother marry Mae's sister, making the two gal pals sisters-in-law.

Trouble signs

But interests diverged, the friendship ebbed and for some time puppy love consumed Alyssa, who's petite and brown-haired, fond of zombie movies and an award-winning photographer and graphic designer.

A boy at school liked her. Unaccustomed to being noticed, dizzy at having a boy's attention, Alyssa clung to him.

Was she too needy? Well, he had ways of putting her down, of toying with her weak self-esteem. At lunch, he made her sit with him and his friends. He told her she could not hang out with people he did not like.

Yet Alyssa held tight, too inexperienced to know that having a boyfriend was supposed to be fun and vitalizing.

When, after many months it dawned on Alyssa having a boyfriend was not worth putting up with the not-so-nice things he said and did, she struggled to end it.

"Toward the end I Googled 'emotional abuse' because people told me that's what it was," she recalled.

What Alyssa learned opened her eyes. If a partner tells you which friends you may see, that's abuse. If a partner tells you what clothes to wear, that's abuse. If a partner tells you to check in with him wherever you go, that's abuse. If you have to hold your tongue for fear of your partner's reaction, that's abuse.

Alyssa eventually found the courage to break up with her boyfriend. He did not take it well. Enough said.

But the experience changed Alyssa. "After I realized what he put me through, I didn't want other girls to go through what I did," she said. "It hit me some girls could be in huge danger."

Fatal attraction

During her junior year at Solanco High, Alyssa told administrators her peers have got to learn about abusive relationships. She offered to start a Teen Dating Violence Awareness Club. She suggested that the school hold an assembly. Her suggestions weren't acted upon.

Alyssa didn't give up. She designed and handed out a pamphlet, and she organized a benefit concert for a teen relationship abuse organization based in New Jersey. Seven bands performed, 80 kids came, and the concert raised $400.

But for all her passion and for all she did, Alyssa couldn't save Mae.

Alyssa was in graphic communications class when a classmate told her. Mae Davis was dead. Mae's boyfriend had put a rifle to her temple and pulled the trigger twice. He then killed himself.

At the funeral Alyssa found out from Mae's sister that Mae wanted to end the relationship. She wanted to go to college. She wanted to be free of a possessive guy. She paid with her life. She was 17.

It's been nearly two weeks. Alyssa can now talk about what happened without tears. But it hurts, and she's angry.

"It still really kills me the way she went," Alyssa said. "Let this be a wake-up call."

E-mail: jhawkes@lnpnews.com