You never were one to say much. Yet then I admired your silent thoughtfulness. Now I hate it, loath the fact of life that is death. I miss you. Some days I hear the stove, and picture you, making herbal tea. But I know you are not there. Never again will you tell me to go away. Never again will I see you reading Edgar Allan Poe on the couch. The others say I need help, that I need to focus on the positive things in life, and I can't help but think, that's exactly what they would say to you. I lay awake in bed at night sometimes, looking at my picture of you, the only thing reminding me of how it used to be.

I hope it was quick.

I still remember exactly what happened that day, when I saw the cold hand of death grip you. I could have stopped him. I could have prevented all of this. I saw the man in the white coat walk calmly into the room they had you in. I could have caught him, but I didn't run fast enough. When he walked through those large double doors, and we all heard you scream. Everyone stopped fighting, Starfire, Robin, Cyborg, even Slade all turned and looked at the cold unforgiving walls that separated us from you. The doors opened and several doctors came out, their faces expressionless. And, as suddenly as your shrill cry shook us out of our petty battle, they were gone. I slowly approached the room, and then with a sudden explosive burst of energy, I began franticly trying to open the door. It was locked. I kicked the door, and slammed my fists against it. The others tried to take me away, but I didn't let them. I didn't want to leave you, I swear. I screamed and kicked the door, and punched the windows, I beat the doors until my hands were broken, bruised, and bleeding. They dragged me away, I tried to stay, but Cyborg dragged me out of the building. I swear I tried to stay with you, I was too weak. I'm sorry. I loved you Raven. I still do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I really did love you. I wish I had told you.