"Breathe, Laci. Please."  Although I was hopping she would just sit up, I knew she wouldn't. Not just because when I walked in, I saw her phone being blown up with hate messages that I couldn't even stomach. Not just because I saw the fresh cuts on her wrists and her thighs, and the empty pill bottle on the floor. Not even because her small fragile body lay in her shower, hanging form the curtains by her father's tie. None of those were good enough. I knew that I couldn't have saved Laci even if I had gotten there a mere 5 minutes earlier. I couldn't have saved Laci, because she didn't want to be saved.