I dated a girl named Lily for a long while, and we nearly decided to marry. I believed Lily was my forever person, but it turned out she was not right for me or to even stay in my home. Our story kicks off after we had shared a home for around five years. We both worked decent jobs, shared a strong bond, and spent loads of time together. Lily was a petite woman with dark hair and a quick temper, though she was trying to better herself.
I was always calm, and she often joked that a woman would eventually walk all over me. Perhaps she was right, but still, it's not a nice thing to say. One day, Lily went to her job, and her boss asked her to do a task. She argued it wasn't part of her job. Her boss disagreed and fired her. I can't recall what the task was, as what happened next overshadows that detail.
After she lost her job, our income was halved. Life was good before, but we had to cut back, and I think Lily felt bad about it. I returned my car to the bank so she could use hers to find a new job, and I started taking the bus. Eventually, I bought an older car, but Lily still felt guilty, no matter what I said. Losing her job hit Lily hard, and she began to spiral down into sadness. It was tough for her to find new work in our area, but I did my best to support her.
Then, she gave up trying. One day, Lily acted strangely and admitted to trying meth. I was furious, rightfully so. I didn't want drugs in our house. I asked her where she got it. She blamed a coworker but promised to stop. That was a lie; she began using regularly. Soon, our belongings started to disappear, sold by her for drug money. Lily got hooked, and I couldn't watch her destroy herself. I told her: quit or leave. She vanished for months, then started to drift back in and out of our home.
One evening around 5pm, Lily returned, claiming she was clean. I let her back in. She began inviting over friends who claimed to be recovering addicts. I stayed quiet until they became too frequent visitors. I found them in the garage one night, using, and I told them to get out. Things were getting worse, and Lily looked terrible. Lily's eyes grew dark circles, and she got sores, probably from scratching at imaginary bugs. I couldn't understand why she chose this path, but I feared she'd never escape it. I felt like I had already lost her.
Everything exploded the day a man knocked on my door, looking for Lily. He said she took something valuable from him after gaining his trust, and now he wanted it back. I told him Lily was gone for good. I think he was threatening me, believing I was lying. But truthfully, I was just fed up with all of it. Imagine the fright of having someone dangerous at your doorstep, all because of what another person did. It was a nightmare. Staying in that house became unthinkable. But leaving wasn't easy. It took months to save enough money to leave.
Meanwhile, Lily was out there with her so-called friends, lost in drugs, sometimes coming back, hoping to find shelter with me. I refused to let her in again. A few times, I found her hiding in the backyard. I had to chase her away. She was using drugs there, and I couldn't tolerate it. Heartbroken, I left the house and didn't tell anyone my new address. I moved far from that town, to a place I could afford on my own. Sometimes, I wonder about Lily. I hope she's managed to get clean and start anew, though believing that requires a lot of self-deception. Wherever she is, I wish her well, hoping she finds her way out of that darkness.