It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that he was dead, leaving me alive. Alive and alone. And after all I'd done to try and save him…
It wasn't fair that he was in a hole, six feet below the ground, in a grave marked only by a simple cross bearing his name. He deserved more than that. He should've had a monument.
It wasn't fair, the way he'd been murdered. He never had a chance to defend himself.
It wasn't fair that his car, his beautiful car that was as red as his hair, was now beyond repair. The body pockmarked with bullet holes and spattered with his blood; the engine he'd built himself damaged permanently.
It wasn't fair that I'd never had a chance to say goodbye.
And most of all…
It wasn't fair that I had never been able to say the three small words that now fell, trembling, from my lips as I knelt here at his grave, sobbing in the rain.
I love you.