My love for him was like a daisy sprouting in the winter: beautiful and delicate, but also dangerous and deadly. It made me feel invincible - like even though everyone around me knew in the end I would be destroyed, I let my hope shield me from the freezing sting of the biting words.

It was like having my heart cut out of my chest: a blunt pain, stabbing further and further until it was all I knew.

My love consumed my being. I was hooked on the gentle kisses and warm embrace, I was devoted to the words he spoke and the love in his beautiful eyes.

But like an addict, I was too blind to care when gentle kisses turned to harsh bites, when his warm embrace turned to the cold comfort of the kitchen tiles, when his once tender words became twisted with malice, and when the love in his eyes leaked away like the blood flowing from my body. I was too busy injecting myself with his games and twisted love to care. I was too busy inhaling his lies until I could never be the same. I was too busy getting a high from the pain he inflicted upon my once innocent soul. But then my innocence was tainted and he had the control.

When I think back, I remember my mother drinking and drinking until that was all she was. I remember everyone around me injecting themselves with whatever they could lay their hands on. I remember staying away from all the poison. And then I remember meeting him, and getting addicted to things much sicker.

I remember when I first met him, and his mop of shock red hair rested messily upon his head: his eyes twinkled with a shimmer of life I had never seen in my drug infested days and his voice was a soothing melody of tones. I remember falling over my gangly legs, and I remember him saying "Aww, you've fell for me already, Blondie," with his signature smirk before helping me up.

I remember the first time we said 'I love you' to each other, when it was around our seventh or eighth date and he took me onto the roof of his flat building. I remember looking up, and becoming speechless; the open sky was so beautiful and so full of stars, that they almost seemed too close. I remember the way that they twinkled and shone in a way I had never seen them before: a bright light streaked across the sky and disappeared after - a shooting star. I remember how he looked so pretty in that moment, with the moonlight illuminating his face: his hair was flattened down, fatigued from a long day of being messily mused up, and he was sweet and quiet, despite the bubbly persona he usually carried around. I remember lying back onto the blanket to watch more of the stars dance across the sky and die out - talking to him about everything and nothing - and glancing over at him, seeing him stare up at the sky, eyes alight and full of wonder, and feeling myself fall in love with him. I remember leaning over to gently place a chaste kiss to his red lips, and whispering, like it was a secret, 'I love you' to his parted mouth, like I was trying to breath it into his heart itself. And I remember him pulling me closer, and whispering it to my heart - replacing the part I had given him with his own.

I remember everything about him - that he always double knots his shoelaces, that he likes long walks on the beach, that his mum never let him dye his hair, that if the sheet comes off of his bed he can't sleep…
But I remember that I never tried to save my skin from the corrosive acids of his toxic mouth, that he completely annihilated me.

I remember the way he turned me against myself. I remember the dewdrops of crimson that ran down my arm and joined the ever growing ocean on the bathroom tiles. I remember itching to add more to the intricate maze of lines already permanently etched on my skin, but I also remember trying to hold on, even with the devil on my shoulder convincing me that it’s easy – easy to watch the life drain out of me. I remember bringing the blade down once more, and for a mere moment, releasing the demons and braking their shackles. I remember pleading to be free, but knowing I would always be confined in the malevolent ways that possess my being, that I would always be confined in my infinite love for him. I remember knowing that stopping was futile, that my inner demon had the reigns of the blade, so I would never stop bleeding. I remember my heart and soul weeping, and their tears being the droplets of blood rapidly escaping my body. I remember that even with my arm begging for me to stop, I continued with my satanic therapy. I remember realising, for the first time, that this adoration would ultimately be my demise.

I gave him my everything, so when he left I was nothing.

My love for him destroyed me from the inside out, it's only trace the scars left on the soon-to-be dead blonde boy, who loved so much it was deadly.