Last month, on July 28, Ryder left. Forever. He knew that the following day was my birthday. He had made the decision to buy me roses late at night. On his drive over to my house, at three in the morning, a drunk driver crashed into Ryder's car. He might have made it if someone had found him sooner, and that's what kills me. He would have lived. He had a chance to live. But I couldn't get to him in time. I blamed myself.
I know it was for me. In his car, were the roses. There was a necklace with a locket, inside I found a picture of us lying on his bed together. There was a letter he had written for me. He loved me. Ryder really did love me. We loved each other, I needed him. How could I say goodbye to the love of my life?