We formed our own futures. My father has been against it since then.
Heavy with memories, my head tips forward.
Steaming water cascades through my hair. The warmth after the cold makes me appreciate it even more. It’s easy to get used to luxury. Easier yet to get swept up in the feeling of invincibility.
As if to remind myself that I’m human, my hand reaches down to trace the gunshot scar on my stomach. It’s the closest I’ve ever come. Even with the beatings, the cold nights, the starved days, that little piece of metal was the closest I ever came to death. A silver bullet dipped in wolfsbane.
There’ve been times I wish it had taken me. Done me in. But I still have moments when I’m glad I’m alive. Like last night.
My eyes slowly open, locking on the small, stolen bottle on the shelf
