I was lucky that day. Lucky to be alive- That's what they kept telling me. Lucky to have him there- That's what I kept telling myself.
While the scars everyone can see slowly fade away, there are others that will never heal. They hang heavy on my heart. They make me wonder why she decided to torture me slowly rather than kill me instantly. But where's the satisfaction in that?
Before, she was lucky. She had everything.
After, I was "lucky." Yet, I have nothing.
That's what they keep telling me.