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He Didn't Hit Me, so I Believed Him.

Stephanie Reign is a creative writer that is in the process of publishing her own novel. A Fairy Tail is a work of fiction.

Words Sharp As Knives

Do you remember the first time your eyes landed on the perfect guy there ever was? Because I do.

Welcome back to the second part of A Fairy Tale, an article of mine that aims to share my... experience in love with you.

Suppose you don't feel like going back and rereading it for a quick recap. I talked about Reeve, who was so dreamy, and tall, and handsome, and old, who came into my life as if he was a hurricane that was going to sweep me off of my feet. I didn't really talk to him much until a year later, when we were forced to sit beside each other through a whole year of classes. We got together around the latter part of the Ninth Grade, and a few months into this relationship, we got into a heated argument. Well-- not really heated. It was, for him, at least.

I broke down, cried, and was extremely depressed. And along came him, in his majestic white horse and a savior complex, hiding a horrid person underneath all that Prince Charming- charm.

We fought over why I was having a breakdown because of my depression and anxiety, and he later told me that I was lucky that he even loved me.

His words cut me that moment. "No one will love you because of that effed-up mind of yours."

And the scar runs deep until now.

For years, I have thought about staying with him because I felt that he was right. I had very unstable mental health, which made me unlovable, and I thought I was worth nothing. I thought that he was right about me being lucky because he loved me and because he was putting up with my breakdowns and all.

All along, it was all in my mind.

I Cannot Lose You...

Any sane person would've left that kind of person right away, right?

Well, it was the cries and apologies that got me staying.

He told me that it was his first time being in a relationship, and he told me those wretched three words that he never really showed me. Those three words made me stuck in that cycle of abuse and apologies and forgiving.

He cried that night, telling me that he just didn't want to lose me and that he loved me so much, and he's never felt like that for anyone else. My heart fluttered. I never felt loved by my family, but there was someone who told me that they loved me.

I never knew what love was, and the people that should've been my model turned out to be the worst kind there is. I thought my parents were in love, and they fought day and night as if they weren't able to stomach the sight of each other. My mother was verbally abusive and egotistical. My father was just a ball of anger wanting to burst out and take his anger to someone else... and unfortunately, my brothers were that someone else.

My parents always told us that they got mad at us because they loved us. They told us hurtful words because they loved us and didn't want to lose us and get us into trouble.

So, ultimately, I thought that that was love. Reeve's love was the same as my parents'. He told me that he was afraid to lose me and that he loved me, so I believed him.

He never hit me physically, so I thought that it was alright. He was just caught up in the heat of the moment, and he never meant anything about what he had just said.

Well, Tough Love.

When you come from a family that you've never really felt the love in, especially from your parents, it tends to mess you up, doesn't it?

You think that the simple act of saying the words would suffice. That when he hurts you, it's all tough love. He loves you, and that's why he hurts you, and you should be grateful for it.

Even the most obvious form of abuse would let you think that he loves you and that he only wants what is best for you. He's afraid to lose you. He's doing it for you.

Well, that's what happened to me. I let him get away with more and more "I'm sorry's" and "I love you's" that it just became a cycle.

That's what love was for me. He gave me chocolates and lots of worldly things that I thought just filled up for all the stabbing scars that his words have left me. As long as he doesn't hit me, and as long as he tells me that he loves me, then I could always forgive him.

I Should've Listened To Einstein

Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Was I insane then?

Thinking that somehow, the day that he changes will come. So, I forgave him over and over again at the expense of my own sanity and safety.

Congrats, Reeve; I'm now damaged because of you. Great job!

© 2021 Stephanie R

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