"Young love," they called it. It sounded beautiful, it was charming - it was a disaster I didn't know I was getting myself into. Until I heard the word, lust.

We met in school where the trend of 'young love' happened. We were young, naive, not knowing where life would take our relationship. A year turned into two years, interests raises and lowers for each other as time went on and downhill from there.

First, it was verbal. The words that I use to get butterfly feelings to turned into pain. The sweet things that were said before were then towards other girls. And yet, I was still confused about my feelings and what was happening.

Two years turned into three years and separation of different schools caught onto both of us. At least for me, this was an escape. I didn't have to see, hear, or feel him and the guilt I would feel next to me. At least that was what I thought at the time. I was happy. I was exploring who I was and able to connect to others that I didn't before. Life was great!

Attending different schools at first I thought was going to be rough and challenging. Instead, I found comfort and peace. You see, violence always happened in my life growing up as a young child from my own family. I never thought that it would happen to me personally.

As much as I enjoyed being in a different environment from him as I did, I didn't think about what was to come. Although that distance from each other at different schools was only 20 miles away, I never thought that it would bring much trouble. This distance really showed true to who he is. Impatient, short tempered, heated, anger, and so much more. I found out many times from others how he cheated. Never did I say a word. Not that I wasn't the popular type at my school either. I knew I could do the same just to get back at him but I didn't simply because I knew my dignity and I knew I was scared.

Soon enough, threats became a common word he used to scare me in ways I never knew. I was accused for many things I didn't do. Little did I know I was rumored to him in many inappropriate ways. I felt like eyes were always on me and watching me while he was not around. I knew I had to be careful with my actions and words. Even the words I spoke and those I walked with. The joy I once felt of being away from him faded and the light got darker as time went on.

You might ask, why I didn't seek help or simply leave. It's harder than it really is. Every time I did try to leave, I see myself ending right back to where I was. At the time, I wasn't sure why. I knew I needed help, but I didn't seek them. I was afraid of judgment, flaws, insecurity - all the things a teen would feel at the time of their life. You see, I grew up in a big family, one of which there were many who could've lended me a hand.

I stayed silent, which was a mistake. I should've shouted, screamed, and yelled for help for the sake of my life - but I didn't. You may start thinking, I should've. In the cases of which I did do what my guts were telling me, I found myself in a deeper hole or bigger black eye than before. Those days were rough. Not attending school, which was my escape and passion, because of my looks after a good beating. Hiding in my room so my family doesn't see. Tears down my face silently even though I wanted to scream at my current situation and never return. I didn't want to step out and see the world. I was ashamed.

But the worst was yet to come as we turned to year four....the outbreak.