It has been ten months since I had my family ripped away from me. Ten months since I had to endure brutal torture from the person who was supposedly 'destined' to love me. Ten months since I found out that my entire existence was just a lie, a pre-planned game where I was the pawn.
It has been eight months since I escaped that place with Chloe, my torturer's sister, both of us had had our freedom stripped away by the same man and eight months ago, we got it back. We ran like foxes chased by hounds as we ran to be free, not knowing of the dangers that might lie before us but this is the price we were willing to pay for our freedom.
We both were able to find love, Chloe received what she had been yearning for and I was given my second chance at happiness. I still was determined to avenge my family for what had been done to them but now, I had the time to heal and for once, had someone to guide me through my healing process. Through these months of trying to heal I realised that I did not escape from that hell-hole whole, something in me died there and I could feel its decay spreading through me, filling me with guilt and doubt that I had never experienced before. I would have been driven insane if I had been on my own, drowned in my very own thoughts, but a rock tethered me home, kept me safe, kept me happy.
He made me believe that I had a harbour here, but he made me forget about the storm.