I know I shouldn't miss him so much, but I do. He stole my heart and I know he was a creep but he was my creep, and I miss him like Lana misses her gun. Everyday I wake up to Astrid and Sam and they look so in love, so perfect together. I know I shouldn't think it, but I can't help it; the thoughts rush into my head, thoughts of Caine and I. We are brushing our teeth together, getting ready for bed. Caine is sitting at the table, reading the newspaper as I make him his morning coffee. We are holding each other, and the nightmares come but they're not as harsh with him there, not as blindingly painful. I feel no sadness, I feel whole.

But then my happiness ends- I can't remember. I can't remember just how his hair fell, and I can't remember how tall he was compared to me. Did his hair part left or right? How soft were his lips against mine, his hands on my body? My memory of him blurs and fades as each day passes and the hole in my heart consumes me. I want to feel him holding me. I want to hug him tightly. I want to feel his heart beating against mine. These delusions are my every thought, my every breath.

I'm trying to be happy again, but it's so hard to feel right with him gone. I walk along the Santa Monica pier every day, and with the cool sea breeze in my hair I try to forget the bad things about him. I push away memories of fear and anger, and sometimes I am struck with such overwhelming love it's hard to stand up straight.

Quinn visits me sometimes. We walk along the pier together, he still in his wetsuit. He's always in the water. I swear, that boy's part fish. We grab something to eat, and in between bites he cracks jokes and I laugh. We laugh together and it's the closest I feel to whole again without thinking about Caine.

Maybe I can escape this mess and leave the FAYZ behind, leave behind Caine and leave behind our baby. Maybe. Most likely I'll still be hung up on Caine when I'm 70.

Because love like that never ends. He was my king and I was his queen. We were two losers in love, just trying to make it through our own, sick world.