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“We could ask a thousand questions, but none us will ever know what was going through her head or how badly she was suffering.”

It hurts to think about the misery she must have been in to feel that hopeless, to just give up like she did.

“At least she’s no longer in pain.”

“I want her here. Selfishly, I just want her back.”

“I know,” he says, rubbing my shoulder, doing what he can to console me, but nothing will ever repair this.

She’s gone, and my world is shredded.

He tightens his grip and then stands. “Take your last drink. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

After he walks away, I down another gulp before closing my eyes and trying to find her. I search for her all the time ... in the mist and in the clouds and in the shadows.

“I still feel you,” I speak into the air, believing she’s here because she has to be. “I feel you every day, and I miss you.” Hanging my head, I talk through the pain, my voice breaking against each word. “You were my best friend ... you’ll always be.”

After another swallow, I stare at the bottle as if I’m going to find her in it. “I know how much my drinking and driving worried you. I honestly never thought it was a problem, and then you came along, and I felt like I didn’t need it as much. But now ... now you’re gone, and it’s all I have to help with this agony. I’m out of control, and I know it,” I tell her. “Even though I was too trashed to hold a conversation last night, I called Marcus. I was scared—for the first time, I was truly scared of myself, of who I’ve become, of what could happen to me. He came with no questions asked, and when I’d sobered up enough to get coherent words out, I begged him to help me.”

Tightening my coat around my body, I shiver against the bitter chill.

“I’m going back to Hopewell. Marcus thought it would be the best place since I could keep up with my schoolwork there and still graduate, but I want you with me.” I pinch my swollen eyes shut, pushing rivers down my face. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s going to be to go back and fight this alone ... without you. But I have to. I have to try. I have to keep living ... for you.”

I throw my head back and drink my last drops, making a promise to myself that this is it, that I’m going to fight for my life and take it back. It’s what Harlow would want me to do.

So, I’m going to do it—for both of us.

I set the bottle next to her headstone and reach into my back pocket.

Looking down at the turtle I folded this morning before Marcus picked me up from the hotel, another tear falls. I lay it on the ground and read the words I’d written across it: “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

“I really am sorry.” I sit for a moment, silently appreciating everything she gave to me and everything she was. As the mist starts to gather on the turtle, I think about the one she attempted to make and how proud she was of it. I’d teased her about it, and the memory causes me to smile, but it hurts so badly. “I still have your turtle, by the way.”

I slip my hand into the pocket of my coat and pull it out. “See, I never got rid of it,” I tell her as I hold it between my fingers, all misshapen. “It’s my favorite because you’re my favorite. And it’s perfect because you’re perfect. You never thought you were, but you were.”

With a deep breath, I shove the turtle back into my coat pocket, wipe my face, and stand.

“I hope you found your peace.” Then I turn and walk away, leaving the bottle behind but bringing Harlow with me.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks when I get into the car.

“No.” I’m empty without her.

“You will be. This is the first step.”

And then he drives me to Hopewell.