My life has always felt like a war zone in a movie.
A small village, victim to a rain shower of bombings, swarmed by terrorists- devoid of any compassion or remorse. The attack is relentless with no end in sight. Chaos, violence, and misery are the only sounds ricocheting through the village. Even in the daytime, there was no light, only impenetrable darkness.
Then the camera zeroes in on a mother hiding her child in a secret crawl space for protection, ultimately sacrificing herself as a human shield. However, she was no amateur to such violence; she had been through this far too many times and knew the only way of surviving was to kill or be killed. And that’s exactly what she did. She gave sympathy to no one because trust was no longer an option, but rather a mere lucid dream from her once young and untainted imagination.
She didn’t just become strong; she became the strongest. Women were no longer a challenge and men often underestimated her, but quickly learned what a mistake that really was.
That has always been my life. I have always been the mother in a war zone hiding my most prized possession, protecting my innocence at all costs.
When I met Edward, I didn’t know how to walk off the battlefield just yet. Every time I tried, I took another hit, each time harder than the last. I fought so long and so hard that became wrapped up in fighting and forgot I had buried my soul so deep inside me.
It wasn’t until I lost Edward and heard the blood-curdling cries of my lost and broken heart screaming in my chest that I remembered where I had hid it after all these years. It wasn’t until his absence that I ran back to reclaim my innocence and let it out of hiding.
As I make my way out of the bomb stricken land, dripping in the blood of my victims, I guide my gentle soul through the path I have worked for years to clear and can’t help but wonder if I really am the hero or just another villain…