I could feel their eyes on me, judging me, wondering what the hell I was doing talking to a rock. But I shrugged off their gazes, just like you taught me to. "Don't give a fuck what anybody else thinks," you used to tell me. "Love yourself. That's all that matters. And love me too 'cause I need the attention."

So I reached out a hand and traced your name. "Liza Morris," the stone read, "Dec. 24, 1994 -- Dec. 24, 2016." A crack ran between your first and last name, as if segregating you from your family. How fitting.

"It's been a year now," I whispered, dropping my hand back to my side. "They still haven't found the people who did this. They say it was some kind of gang initiation. The bastards blow people up for shits and giggles. The officer told me you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like that's supposed to make me feel better."

For months, this shoddy little memorial had been alight with candles and flowers and the like, but now nobody seemed to remember it even existed. I didn't know how they could possibly forget.

"I tried to go all private detective like in the TV shows and catch them myself, but I have no real skills, as I'm sure you know. I'm sorry I couldn't do it. You deserved so much better." I looked away, taking a breath to steady my voice before placing the flower on top of the dirt.

"I know how much you dreamed of being buried in a bed of roses because of that stupid song, but this is the best I could do since your body... Well. You know."

I coughed, swiping a hand across my eyes. "A-anyway. Happy birthday, Princess. I got you something." I held the bottle up to the memorial, smiling a little. "Alcohol. I don't have a clue what kind it is, but it's pretty nasty and incredibly potent. You would've loved it."

I took a swig from the bottle, gagging and coughing the second the drink hit my throat. "Yeah. It's disgusting." You would have laughed at me if you were there, and I wouldn't have blamed you. I was standing in the middle of the street, talking to a pile of muddy rocks, crying, and carrying around a partially consumed bottle of alcohol.

I probably looked crazy. Maybe I was.

"I miss you, Liza. I just--I just want to see you one more time. I want to say goodbye, and this stupid rock isn't cutting it. I--I need you, Liza. I need my best friend. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you."

My grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, and I bit my tongue to keep the tears from falling.

"I canceled my wedding by the way. I don't think I told you." I took another swig from the bottle and blamed my tears on the burn. "I couldn't get married without you there."

Quietly, I added, "I can't do most things without you there."

I stared at your name, watching the letters swim and blur with my tears. "Liza," I whispered, "what do I do?"