WILTED BUT ALIVE 🌹

This is not an easy story for me to tell, but it has to be told.

It began with something so simple... a visit. A man came to see my mother. He wasn't my friend... I made that clear. He was hers. To me, he was nothing but trouble, someone whose presence I never welcomed. I didn't want to see him, didn't want to speak to him but somehow his shadow kept finding its way into my life.

That evening, my mother returned from a trip. Not long after, this man came by to greet her. They spoke like old friends, catching up as though nothing in the world was wrong. Then my mother turned to me with a request that still burns in my chest: she asked me to escort him. I told her it wasn't far, that he could go on his own. But
she insisted and against my better judgment, I went.

I regret it.

The moment we stepped into the dark, everything shifted. He grabbed my phone. The lights went out and I still don't know if he switched off the power or if it was coincidence. But in that darkness, I felt trapped. I couldn't scream. I couldn't breathe. I remember suffocation, pain and blood. In that moment, I wasn't living anymore. I became what I can only describe as a walking death... alive in body, gone in spirit.

And then came the betrayal that cut deeper than the attack itself. Instead of outrage, instead of protection, I heard excuses. He blamed the devil. He wanted forgiveness. He asked my mother to apologize for him. And my mother... she tried to persuade me to let it go. To forgive, to move on, to pretend it hadn't happened.

But how do you forgive someone who stole your breath?
How do you stay silent when your soul is still screaming?

I locked myself away after that. I wasn't fine. I'm still not fine. But I know silence only feeds the shadows and I refuse to stay quiet anymore.

So this is where my story begins.

I won't give names.
I won't give faces.
Because it's not about him or her or even me alone... FIND OUT MORE...