I was sixteen when I first met him, not even half a year ago. An old sixteen, but sixteen nether the less. In ways I was only a newborn to the world – ways of which he knew how to undermine.
I didn't realise how much could change in five months, it was as though I'd fall asleep each night and wake up to a completely new decade of my emotions. A dark labyrinth of electric pulses and brain cells – one where I'd always ask; 'where is the way out?'
Where was it, were those gaps hiding from my blinded eyes? No moon or stars to shine down and show me which way to go, and my eyeballs unable to roll back into my head to read the map of my brain. It was pitch black in there, lost and confused – and that was the whole problem.
He'd led me into the dark with no light, only his hand and his promises.
And in that blank space, he taught me to love, how to feel, how to believe and dream. How to let go, and see more. See him. He showed me how to become whole by leaving the bits of me behind that didn't fit, couldn't fit. The bits that he couldn't see me needing – the scars, blood and pills. He held my life in his hand before he took mine. The cold walls I'd put up were torn back, leaving me naked and exposed to his ferocious heat and vulnerability…
Yet, I didn't even mind.
I had let Jade into my heart.