She wiped the tears out of her eyes and tucked her long black hair behind her ears. She didn't think that seeing that picture of him would bring back so many memories. So much pain.
   She didn't realize how much she missed him. "Why did you leave me?" she asked the boy with the caramel colored eyes and long blond hair in the picture. "Why?"

   The boy with the blond hair screamed, "Leave me alone! You don't understand! YOU DON'T EVEN TRY TO UNDERSTAND! JUST GO AWAY!" He ran to his room and called her. He always told her his problems.
   "It happened again..."
   "With them?" she asked slowly.
   "Yeah. They started arguing and I tried to stop them and..." He was near tears as he spilled the story to her.
   "I know. Do they know about... what's going on with you?"
   "They don't give a shit about me or my problems!"

   Depression. The word echoed in her mind. He'd been diagnosed a year before the fight. By the night of the fight, he'd attempted suicide over 20 times. Coming scarily close to succeeding a few times too. She knew about all of his attempts --how and why. She never told anyone because... because...
   "I was afraid it'd push you over the edge and I'd lose you for good. I'm so sorry...I couldn't help...It's all my fault..." Tears were streaming down her face as her mind floated back to that night...

   "They do too care about you," she tried to reassure him.
   "No they don't. If they did they wouldn't do this."
   "They care. People care. I care about you. Don't do this to yourself." She was pleading with him, hoping to God he'd listen.
   "No one cares. I'm ignored constantly. They only talk to me when I draw attention to myself...Or to scream at me."

   She knew what he meant by that. All the interviews. All the questions. All the times he sat there ignored. All the fights afterward. It had just added to his depression.

   "But it'll be okay this time I promise." She tried again to reassure him.
   "No it won't. I can't deal with this shit anymore..." His voice was steady and sure.
   "Don't do anything. Please."
   "I love you. Remember that," he said as he hung up.
   "WAIT! DON'T HANG UP! PLEASE!!!!!!!" She screamed into the receiver.
   All she heard was a dial tone.

   "Why? Why couldn't I help you? I should've stopped you... I... I... I'm so sorry. I should've done something. Then maybe you wouldn't have left me..." She ran her fingers over her shoes. His shoes. His yellow Doc Marten boots. He wanted her to have them, after... he...
   "You knew I loved them." Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the gravestone in front of her. Her tears wet the letters engraved in the cold stone.
   "I love you too. I always cared about you," she said as she got up and looked at the sky. "Even when you didn't care about yourself."
   The gravestone said: