Once Upon a Time

I would like to start my story with “Once Upon a Time” 
and end it with “Happily Ever After,” but 
I was not lucky enough to live that kind of fairy tale. 

Once Upon a Time, there was a girl of fourteen. 
At fourteen the biggest worry should be what to wear and who 
to date, but this girl was destined to live a different story.
She was totally unprepared to face what was 
    about to dominate her whole life for three years. 
Three years, six months, two days to be exact. 

Once Upon a Time, she met a boy whom she quickly 
fell for. They were happy together, but this happiness 
was not one that was meant to last.

Once Upon a Time, he was her Prince Charming, but one 
sorrowful night, his facade broke in two to reveal the monster. 
The monster reared its ugly head, called her every name under 
the sun, tore her open, then left her to silently cry herself to sleep. 

Once Upon a Time, he let her believe for seven days that 
she was nothing before he swooped in with whispers 
of apology and love. She allowed him back in, not knowing 
this was not the last time, or even the worst. 

Once Upon a Time, six months after that night,
she said Enough. She walked away.  But two days later,
when his call came in the middle of night, she answered. She
allowed him back in when he started to talk of self-harm and suicide.

Once Upon a Time, she broke herself without a second 
thought every time he asked her to. 
Despite how tired she was and her friends pleas to leave, 
    she stuck by him, loving him. She was convinced
she could fix him if she loved him unconditionally. 

Once Upon a Time, she did not know tear-soaked 
    pillows, or how to cry quiet enough so her parents did 
not hear or how to fix her swollen eyes before her 
mother saw them in the morning, or how to hide her phone 
without raising suspicion, so they did not see what he said. 
But after three years, two months, and four days of abuse, threats, 
    false apologies, I love you’s, and I’m trying, she knows. 
At only sixteen she knows.

Three years, six months, and two days.
She broke the shackles and ran as fast as 
    she could away from his wretched games. 
She finally admitted to herself that this was not right and, 
    most importantly, that this was not how love worked. 

Three years, six months, and two days, is how long it took me. 

I lost,
Gave up,
Threw away,
Three years, six months, and two days.

How long are you willing throw away?