So, some of you might have seen the picture this story is based on, but if not, enjoy anyway.

"Hey, this is Eric. I can't pick up right now, but I'll get back to you ASAP. Okay?"

No, no, no. Come on!

Ring! Ring!

"Hey, this is Eric. I can't pick up right now, but I'll get back to you ASAP. Okay?"

It can't be true! It just can't! Maybe he's just busy. One last time?

Ring! Ring!

"Hey, this is Eric. I ca—"

I threw my phone at the wall. I didn't give a single fuck about the phone sized hole in the wall. Not like it would matter. My whole world was crashing down, a little hole wouldn't change much.

I read over the article on Yahoo! News.

Teen Killed by Drunk Driver

Eric Molina's (pictured above) life was tragically cut short today after driving into a 70mph head on collision by a drunk driver on the I-390 this morning Rochester police say.

So, this is how my life wants to fuck me over? By killing the only person I truly cared about? And probably the only one who cared back?

You see, my life always had some way of turning out extremely shitty. Get some popcorn and tissues ready, because the life of Kiara Kilgore is going to ruin you.

You see, growing up wasn't the easiest for me.

My mom died of cancer when I was two. Her death caused my dad to be an alcoholic. No matter how hard I tried, he would keep drinking. And then when he became upset, it wasn't a good picture for me.

The only thing I had for comfort was my copy of Gran Turismo (The original game) and my PlayStation, my cheap-ass dad wouldn't buy it for me, so I had to do a lot of saving for it. It was the only thing that kept me remotely happy for the 14 years I had to deal with the drunk.

But then, one night, he came home drunk. All I remember is him yelling slurred gibberish at me before he picked up my PlayStation and threw it at me. He missed me, but destroyed the system. He wasn't done, since he ripped the cords out of the TV and beat and attempted to strangle me with them. Sadly, by the time I was 16, I was way too used to him treating me like this, and was more saddened by the death of my happiness.

After another year, he died of alcohol poisoning. I felt no sadness or pity for him in my heart. In my opinion (And I promised myself that I'd never, ever do this.), but that sad, fucking excuse of a man deserved to die. I hope he's kissing the devil's ass in Hell.

My aunt and uncle took me into their home. They were loving, caring parents, something I never experienced, but it just wasn't the same. They tried to get me to become social, thinking there was a chance I could forget the past sixteen years. But we all knew that nothing could erase those stinging memories that always rested at the back of my skull.

Or, so we thought.

On January 20th, 2011, the day before my birthday, I was eating in the corner of the lunch room, until one of the guys from the school's BMX team approached me. I thought it was a prank, due to my former history with the school's football and basketball teams, so I prepared myself for the worst.

It turns out, he wasn't a bad guy and just wanted to know me. I found it weird, because I was so distant, and never thought of myself as the most attractive gal in the school, but I managed a good self-appearance in my opinion.

We turned out hitting it off that day, trading numbers and texting through class (yeah, I know, I'm naughty.). He turned out to be pretty awesome, he seemed to really care for me, and would usually put me before himself in most conditions. I felt slightly sorry for him though, he lost a good majority of his female friends because of me, but he told me that he didn't need them. His name was Eric. Possibly the best person who ever waltzed into my shitty life.

After a couple of weeks, he decided to ask me out on a date, and there was no way I could refuse it. He was the guy I needed in my life. He took me out for dinner and a movie. Then he asked me to be his girlfriend that night. I had to say yes. This was the greatest ending ever to the greatest day of my life.

Before I even met him, I contemplated suicide, not giving two shits about anyone around me. But after him, I had a reason to be me. He made my life worthwhile. I wanted to live because I wanted to see his face everyday.

A year later, I actually felt normal for once, I had an amazing boyfriend, a good number of friends, and a nice steady job until college. But, I had to tell him. It was time he found out about my life.

January 20th, 2012 is when I told him everything. It was nice to have a shoulder to cry on. He seemed to understand everything, and somehow, it gave him a great idea for my birthday present. I'm not sure how those two connected, but I would just let the good times roll.

Until today.

January 21st, 2012. He's dead. He's fucking dead. The only person I've ever truly loved, is dead. I screamed into my pillow, unfortunately drowning out the Avenged Sevenfold that kept me sane for the time being.

My doorbell rang. Bringing the last thing I need right now. More people who never talked to me before to tell me that "they're sorry" or some bull, even though they wouldn't give me the time of day before.

I went to open the door, to find Nick, one of my actual friends, holding a box sprinkled with his tears. Nick was Eric's since Eric had his first BMX race. They had a long history of stupid things they've done, which is why I can stand hanging out with him.

"Sorry about the tears, but this is Eric's present to you."

I invited him in, explaining to my aunt who he was, she understood and let us be in my room.

I found and read the note on the side of the box.

-To the most awesome and brave chick I have ever known. Happy birthday beautiful!


-P.S. Thank God Nick actually had one of these. Life savior right there.

I opened up the box and immediately burst into tears.

What was in that box?

A PlayStation and a copy of Gran Turismo.