It’s funny, life. They taught me to write like a trained monkey to show off at dinner parties, but they never knew it’d keep me sane. They taught me to fight because it was a novelty and the men were bored, but they never knew it’d eventually help me to escape. They made me live with the animals, but they never knew it taught me how to avoid having their children when they raped me. My rescuers told me the man I sacrificed was t “the one”. Oh poor things…. they were all “the one”. Irony.

My grand escape was essentially so simple. I really didn’t want to die, but I was ready to. Instead I found my people. It’s strange to me how much this place feels like home, in it’s dark beauty. The surface people don’t understand this world, it’s apparent. I wanted to be killed by someone with a face like mine, so I threw myself down before that woman, only to be delivered into luxury I’ve never seen before. There’s something they aren’t telling me. For people in power, they certainly don’t know how to school their faces. 

I don’t know what’s ahead for me, but I’m starting to remember things from my childhood. A cruel mother, a terrifying yet wondrous goddess, a world full of strength, courage, and beauty. Perhaps one has to die a little to finally live. Time will tell. For now I trust none. I may never.