Damn it! How could he do this? Just up and leave. Ok, I know he didn't really have a choice, but still. He had a cell; he could've called me. If he weren't already out of my reach, I would kill him for putting me into this position.

When we first met, I was just going through the motions of life- eat sleep, dance, coke. No one wanted me as I was, so I acted out a different life. Then he walked into my life. No, actually he swaggered in. He helped me to become alive. Then it was over. The signs had all been there, the signs of deterioration.

He suffered in the end; I know he did. Part of me says that is a good thing; payback for the suffering he caused me. A part of me still loves him. He was one of the few that I trusted with my heart. We had good times, when we were all happy.

Now. Now, I have to tell my little girl. How do you tell a nine-year-old that you don't know who did it? What do you say?