It’s a good question, isn’t it? What am I? or even more importantly, who am I? They’re small questions with big answers and the truth is, I have no idea. Maybe once upon a time, before everything had changed, but certainly not now.
I don’t remember much from before and what I do remember is mostly unimpressive. I remember being young, an adult but young regardless. I was also a bit of an idiot, always playing the part of the fool though most of my friends thought me smarter than I really was. Athletic enough that I could hold my own on the sports field but also not the most social of people. I could smile a pretty smile and I could make people listen to me, but I remember finding people… exhausting.
And then there was the angel, my most vivid memory from before. It’s difficult to put into words but I think it says enough that I can remember her and not even my own name. She was one of those truly amazing people who just had an amazing ability to make everyone around her that much happier. A baffling entity that I could never understand.
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None of that mattered anymore though. Not since I woke up one day to find myself bound and restrained and floating in the middle of a grey room with the smell of ozone and decay thick in the air.
I have no memory of how I got there, but I do remember the pain. Agonizing, excruciating pain. I don’t know how long I was there for, it all just blurred together.
But that’s just how this world is, I guess. Painful.
So consider this your warning. If you want a happy story or a painless lie, then move on. Mine isn’t the tale for you.
No, my reality is a bit darker than that and miles more brutal. This is the story of how a broken woman was forced to piece herself back together. It is a story rife with pain and anger, but also power and freedom.
Hard lessons will be learned, and even harder decisions will be made. If that appeals to you, then I invite you to continue. Read on as I recant the tale of my trials.