I'm trying to drown myself in alcohol. Jack Daniels, Bourbon, Kahlua, Scotch, Vodka, Captain Morgan, Jim Bean, Busch, Mike, Grey Goose, Bacardi, Tequila, Drambuie, anything. None of it helps. None of it washes away reality.

I've lost her. This isn't like the last time, when she walked out to save us. She's gone.

I heard the gunshot, and Eliot scream her name, and I knew.

Parker is dead.

I'll never be able to help her now. I swore I would, and I can't. It doesn't matter that it was her choice. It doesn't matter that she told us to go so that she could save us. I've let her down so many times, and now I've let her down again. This time, it's bigger than all of them. This time, she's truly gone, to where I can never help her. I swore I would save her, and I didn't. I failed Parker, and I will always despise myself for that now.

I wish I could tell her how sorry I am- for everything. And I can't.

She would want us to move on. To pretend that she never existed. She was always like that. Gone before anyone realized she was there. It's different for us. She wormed her way into our hearts, stole them, and then vanished with them. I don't know why I'm surprised. It's Parker's style.

Another drink, and still the pain is as sharp as ever. It can't be dulled. Not by liquor, or time. She's gone, and I've failed her. I should have saved her, but in the end, I gave up on her, just like everyone else. She said that to me once... "I knew it would happen sooner or later. Everyone always leaves." I swore I wouldn't. I swore that I would always be around. She thought so highly of me. "From the beginning, I knew you were different. That you would mean something."

The last words she ever said to me were. "You know something? I really do hate you."

I hope that was just anger talking. All the same, it hurt, worse than anything except actually losing her.

I raise my glass in the last toast I will ever give her. Here's lookin' at you, Kid. Enjoy Heaven, because there's no place for you in Hell. Goodbye.