She was sixteen, not very pretty, but she dolled herself up sweet enough to attract guys. The sweet innocent smiles that she placed on her face were a trap. The thing I liked most about her was her hyperactiveness.
She had the worst family background among my contact list. Her life was absurd, not that she was suffering from any ill-treatment, but the friends whom she mixed with had led her astray. I always thought people who went through tough times would be more mature. I saw the innocence in her when she told me more about herself. She knew how resilience I was towards puffing and she agreed to the fact that smoking was never cool. She added that she was once being offered a stick but she hated it.
There was this urge to help her to find meaning in her life but I was never confident enough to do it. My nightmare would not have happened if I could resist her hugging me from my back.
I saw her misery soon when I forbade her from excess piercing, getting tattoos and clubbing. It was probably my sincerity that led her to divulge more about her true self. She even admitted that she was cheating on me. The love was so great that pride was never a consideration. I thought by forgiving her, she would be touched and learn to appreciate me more. I wanted her to love herself.
I was stunned when she told me she was a smoker all along but she promised me to quit. My heart cracked not only due to the fact that she had been lying to me all these while, but mainly for the thoughts of her ruining her health at such young age.
The beautiful stories of her past began to shatter day by day when more truths came into light. Love to me was sacrificing. I could foresee how much I was going to suffer but I could not let go of the relationship for the sights of her destroying herself more without my resilience hurt me each time I closed my eyes.
The second night that I accompanied her to study till late was just one of the usual heartbreaking incidents. She claimed that she could not resist to the stress that she insisted to light a cigarette stick. The punch onto the rearing by the stairs was not as hurting as my heart, but the swell lasted for months. I never expected my love for her, with all the sincerity, tolerance and forgiveness would lose to her urge for cigarette puffing.
She did far worse than just breaking of promises, and the day after I ignored her after I sent her to date with her wooers, I realised I was released when she got herself a new boyfriend. I was no longer able to stop her from ruining her own life. I had long exceeded my capability though I had failed to save a life, I was never guilty.