Seventeen years old when he broke my heart.
Seventeen days later when another picked up the pieces.
Seventeen years together.
Seventeen thousand problems.
Seventeen days of reliving my past and finding a new future.
Seventeen minutes until it all went up in flames.
Seventeen breaths until I took my last.
This is my story, and it's going to burn.
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I wear my scars like a scarlet letter, reminding myself that I'm not worth the trouble. I've spent 17 years pushing men away, never allowing myself to believe in the fairytale...then, he walked back in. Just like before, we explode when we're together. I hate him for what he did to me, but I can't stay away. Eighteen days filled with passion and promises. Nineteen letters filled with threats and foreboding. It only takes 20 minutes for the numbers to all add up.