ANNE

Was it one night?

Two nights?

A week?

A month?

A year?

I can’t tell how much time passed. The deafening silence and the shortness of breath had my mind spinning with anxiety and something I rarely ever experienced and admitted; terror.

Terror is always the first step to defeat—an exceptionally humiliating defeat. I hate defeat. But it seemed like all I was doing at that moment was losing. Against myself. Against the darkness, I was in. Against the horrifying memories playing before my eyes.

I didn’t ever think I will ever plead for anything. Maybe, I would have done it for Natalie or Giana but not for myself, never for myself.

I strengthened myself enough to never plead for my life or because of my suffering ever again but I did it. I pleaded for a long time when my lungs burned and I tried to move but couldn’t.

It was like I was in a grave—A dark and deep grave. I was so alive, yet I felt dead.

As I saw the memories from my childhood playing before my eyes like a horror mov