They’ve always said that you will have many different types of people come into your life and shape you for many different reasons. But since we were little they’ve taught us that there are only two types of people in this world: the good and the bad. They’ve told us that its easy to spot the bad guys and that the good guy (which we are all led to believe we are) will always easily triumph in the end. Now if you ask me that’s one big of a contradiction, and it’s no wonder we don’t know what to do when we take a step out of the fairytales and begin to stumble through the real world.

We’ve been brainwashed to believe that all the evil villains will be in black; they’ll have warts covering their face or a long crooked nose. They’ll have a laugh that makes the earth quiver and eyes that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. But then what happens when you meet someone that’s laugh does make the world move and whose eyes send chills down your spine, and you like it? It’s exciting and enticing and they look like prince charming while they run their fingers through their full, dark hair. And all the lines of right and wrong and good and evil are cast away by the gleam that bounces off his perfectly white teeth.
He looks like an angel, and the way he brushes your hair away from your face when he whispers in your ear makes your heart flutter a little faster in your chest. And it’s good, he is good; it’s all good and no bad, for what could be bad when you’re in his arms? The world is painted every shade of black and white in a way so beautiful no poet could even begin to describe.
He was my angel, my Romeo, the prince that barges in at the end of the movie to save the day. The hand I wanted to hold forever and always. I never counted on the possibility that one day that hand could become the one that smacked me down. It didn’t happen all of sudden as you might think, it was a slow, gradual process. It started with the occasional hurtful comment I blew off as just the talk of someone having a bad day, then it morphed into the regular taunting and tormenting. Then out of nowhere the mockery that is your life hits you. At least that is what happened to me.

I played it all off, making excuses and telling myself it would end, that he didn’t mean it. Then one day the excuses and lies spread everything so paper thin i couldn’t help but realized there was no excuse for it, there was also no escape from it. He had broke and branded me. But I kept asking myself: how could he be the villain if he looked so much like prince charming? I was determined to wait it out, to find the fairytale ending I thought for some reason I deserved.
I had grown used to, or rather numb to, the comments he made on what was now a daily basis. “You’re so dumb,” he mumbled to me as I got back a test with a bright red C on it that day in class. “Did you not study? Nah, you probably did actually, but you’re just that friggin’ stupid.”
I’d given up defending myself by that point. It was better just to take it and wait it out. But on this particular day he was not giving up. After what seemed like an eternity in class, he finally relented as the lunch bell rang. He then proceeded to take my hand as if the last 15 minutes of secret classroom mocking had never happened, and we were still the once loving couple we had been so long ago.
We were nothing but the shell, the cold, cracked, and crumbling shell of that couple. He let go of my hand as he always did and the masquerade was over. “You really think you need that cookie?” he whispered softly in my ear so no one would hear. He plucked the cookie from my hand, and I could feel his hot breath burning my ear. “I am just doing you a favor. You know how I feel about fat chicks.” I could feel my lips start to quiver as those horrid words bounced off his tongue. “Now don’t look upset babe, not my fault you’ve been packin’ it on lately.”
I’ve tried my best to forget the details of what happened next, but they are etched into my brain like scars only I can see. One minute Andrew, my love and my Lucifer, is telling me drop a few pounds and the next minute I find myself face first in the school restroom.
Thoughts sped through my head at space shuttle speed. A million thoughts roamed through my head as I stared coldly at the porcelain seat in front of me. Out of all those thoughts, defenses, and warnings one thing sticks out in my head. Once it popped into my head I played it over and over in my mind like a cruel song on repeat.
We aren’t trying to chase our dreams; we are just trying to escape our nightmares. Right then and there, in that bathroom stall, my dream, my perfect fairytale transformed into a horror story unfathomable in even my worst imagination. I’d told myself he was suave, and sexy, and sweet for so long I actually started to believe that was the only side of him that mattered.
But there is a certain clarity that comes with the task of purging yourself. There is something in the way you slowly feel the contents of your stomach begin to rise as you push deeper and deeper down the back of your throat, through all the discomfort and pain.
Realization comes in the quite moments afterwards, when you lie motionless, stunned and utterly exhausted, arms folded on the toilet seat, head resting softly on top. You take in your surroundings and a harsh reality in exposed. He was a monster, a destroyer, and a complete masochist. But this, this was on me.
I could blame him for hurting my feelings and all that crap, but I was the one who stuck my fingers down my throat. No one made me. I’d given him the power to hurt me and I’d given my insecurities, my demons a place to nest. I was alone in this, actually I was plain alone.
I extended my arms and pushed myself off the cold tile floor. I grabbed a small square of toilet paper, dabbed my eyes and then my mouth. Finally, once completely adjusted, I made my way to class. With my newfound clarity I was under no illusions that this would be the last time I’d find myself in this position, and I knew that this horrendous task would soon become a monotonous routine.
So I continued to purge and Andrew continued to torment but somewhere in the midst of it all I began to grow immune, like a thick sheet of ice was covering my body extinguishing the pleasure with the pain and leaving only a numb sensation. I viewed the world for what it was; no false pretenses clouded my vision. And I began to realize that maybe Andrew wasn’t the monster, and maybe I wasn’t either. However just because we aren’t the monsters doesn’t mean we aren’t filled with them.
Don’t get me wrong; I hated him. The way he crinkled his nose when he laughed, the way he traced hearts in the palm of my hand when I wasn’t paying attention, it was repulsive. I think I hated that version the most. The sweet, caring guy, that gave me no choice but to love him. He’d given me no choice when he’d sucked me in with his dark green eyes and forever I would spend trapped in his gaze.
Had he really tricked me though? At this point I didn’t think he had. Maybe the demons inside of him had changed him too. I could understand that. I was living with that. You couldn’t make deals with the demons in your head, they controlled you. We were all at the beck and call to them, submitting to their every whim. Could I really blame him for falling victim to his monsters?
For I knew very well what it was like under their rule. Yes, we had different demons haunting us, but I couldn’t help but feel compassion knowing that he too checked under his bed after turning off the lights. It was a sick game, the game we were playing, and I know that with a game like this there could be no winners.
Nevertheless life went on, and we grew colder and colder as the days grew shorter. All appearances were maintained and honestly I believe no one outside of us had any clue what was going on. I wasn’t hiding it from anyone, it was just that no one ever asked and it wasn’t the sort of thing you just blurted out in conversation. I waited for a “how are you?” or a “you okay?” But they never came. I planned out so many times what I would say if someone had asked me. I know now that I wouldn’t have had the courage to answer though.
Irony crept In with those days. We grew dependent on each other, and the man who broke me became my only ally because he was the only one who could understand what it was like to be broken.
We would scream and fight till we were out of breath without a single tear shed. We became regular sparing partners, hoping that by yelling at the top of our lungs we could awaken something inside of us that proved dead long ago. We were nothing but shells, casts of our former selves. We looked the same, but open us up and we were nothing but cobwebs.
Today was different though. It wasn’t unusual for Andrew and I to fight on the way home from school and this fight was straight from our playbook. Harsh words that slide off the tongue and bounce off were exchanged without a second thought. Insults and snotty remarks run rapid as shouts echo inside the tiny car. As we rounded the corner to my house a strange silence fell upon the car. It fell heavy like fog and lingered until I finally broke the silence with a muffled, “why do we do this?”
No response. I knew I shouldn’t push it, I knew I shouldn’t have even said it, but I felt the need to say it. I hadn’t had a compulsive thought in months and I couldn’t possibly fight the only urge I had. I needed to know the answer; these questions had been haunting me for so long even if I hadn’t realized it till now.
“Andrew, why?” I whimpered, as hot tears boiled up in my eyes. So much emotion had been repressed for so long and now with the floodgates destroyed I couldn’t begin to control the tidal waves. “Please, why did you do this to me?”
No response was spoken but I could see the change in his face as if he was searching for the answer but couldn’t fathom how to put it into words. “I’m not blaming you, I just need to know. Please.” I begged one last time.
“Sometimes Paige, uh well sometimes,” he struggled to put the words together as his voice began to crack. “Sometimes we hurt the ones we love. Sometimes the ones we love hurt us.”
“I just don’t-“ I began until he interrupted me. I could see the tears in his eyes and his jaw clench as he tried to fight them back.
“It gets too much, ya know? Having people hurt you, and then turning around and doing the same thing. There just comes a point you just hurt yourself so no one else has to.” His voice trembled as he spoke the undeniable truth. We hurt ourselves because it was something to depend on. We could live with the pain, as long as it was predictable, and it gave us a little control.
I didn’t bother to respond. I just reached over and took his hand. It was rough and hard in the places that had used to be soft, and there were scars on his hands from fights with others while there were scars on his arms from fights with himself. I traced a small heart in the palm of his hand and gave him one goodbye kiss as he rolled into my driveway.
I just want you to know Andrew isn’t the enemy, and he isn’t even the villain in this story. I pushed the self-destruct button the moment I let him in. But I now know the truth; he too was condemning himself for someone else’s crime. I never found out whose, but I could just tell by his eyes. When I looked in them it was like I was looking in a mirror. Someone broke him open and gave the monsters in him a place to rest.
The thing is though someone else probably did the same thing to the person that hurt Andrew. It was all such a vicious cycle. Andrew gave over and collapsed into himself, casting the world aside and only focusing on the pain, trying to rid himself of it by giving it away.
But I don’t blame him anymore, I knew what path I was choosing when I walked down it and as much as I try to retrace my steps I can’t escape from where I am. I am fully aware of what I am now, and more importantly I am aware of what I can become.
It is too late for me, I can’t escape the cycle but maybe I can stop it. I refuse to hurt someone the way I’ve been hurt, to pull them in and subject them to this torment. No, I can’t be the person I used to be and chances are I’d never really be a person again. So it makes my options pretty clear, and I hope now you understand why I’m telling you all of this, and maybe just maybe you understand why I’m doing this.
I just know if I can’t stop the cycle any other way. I could live my life like a murderer, destroying everything I touch or I could die a martyr. So please don’t consider this suicide, or the tragic end of a noble life, consider it a noble end of a tragic life. Let it be a new beginning, a warning, I couldn’t get out of the dark hole I dug for myself, so do me a favor and get out if you can.
There are only so many words I can say to make you understand, and there are only so many words I have left. So I guess this is my final goodbye and if there is such a thing, good luck. But I’m hoping you won’t need it. And one more thing just do me a favor don’t miss what I’ve become, it’s not worth it.







Truthfully,
Paige