Kyle couldn’t walk past your room anymore. He couldn’t stomach looking at your photos, so, he didn’t show up to your funeral.

The storm was merciless, it drenched him as he stood before your grave. The words snag in his throat as he sees the photo of you on the cement; the ink runs down your pretty face.

The cold was nothing compared to the guilt he felt. Kyle falls to his knees, a strangled noise of despair clawing its way out of his chest.

“You were everything.” He wailed.

“Everything.”