one mistake when you were too young to know how to play by the rules, when lines were blurred and first times felt like finallys.
you had to tell him it was over seven separate times, had to endure each time he passed too close to you at work. until, mercifully, you never saw him again.
two mistakes still too young to understand right and wrong but old enough to understand the spark and the beat of the music.
you let him do the things that made him keep one eye out for anyone you knew, because you thought you were special until the night you realized you weren't. all the times you left smelling like him turned into a burning on your skin it took you years to wash away.
three mistakes three strikes, old enough, but not for him. still too naive for the secret meetings that didn't feel wrong until they did.
the first time there was lots of blood and he wiped away your tears while you hyperventilated on the bathroom floor. he brought you water and then kicked you out and found new ways to do it all again until you'd had enough.