The same house that carried my childhood dreams also carried the nightmares of my youths.
As I stood before the house, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It wasn't the warm and fuzzy kind, it was a painful reminder of the memories I had made within those walls. The happy memories I had had been wiped away by the memories of the torment and suffering I had endured.
I thought about the five long years of torture that I had endured in this house, at the mercy of my aunt and cousin. Five years of fighting, enduring, and tolerating. Those years in b*****e, caged and tortured by the people I called my family.
Back then, I held onto the hope that one day, someone would come and save me, but that hope slowly disappeared when I realized that only I could save myself. Not my parents' lawyer,
