Chapter 18

I’ve never thought of myself as a victim. Sure, I have my share of tragedy and trauma—as a low-rank orphan to say I haven’t led a charmed life is a vast understatement—but I learned at a young age that you always have a choice.

Maybe not in what happens to you, but in whether you let it handle you, or you handle it. Take from it what you can and move on. That’s always been my coping strategy, but what if there’s nothing to take? No lesson to be learned?

I still feel him inside me. He was only there for a moment. Just a moment before I killed him. I killed him, and I can still feel him. What can I learn from this? What can I take from this, that he didn’t take from me? Why did I let him take it? You always have a choice.

I play each moment, each move, each breath over in my head. I was someone else when it was happening, somewhere else, but I’m here now. I feel it now, and I don’t want to. Handle it, or it’ll handle you.

The whip snaps against my back, tearing loose more skin. I try