The Story of Blood and Roses

Today\'s presentation had been a risk. I had remained out of the public eye for quite some time and by putting my name out there, I was risking my safety. Somewhere deep in my heart, I was hoping that Anthony would make good on his promise and protect me. I wasn\'t insecure enough to believe that he had forgotten me, not only because of his impeccable memory but because of his boundless love for me.

When my name was called—yes, my real name, I felt my body react instinctively. No one had called me by that name in years, but I was moving towards the podium, offering a polite smile to the host and expressing my gratitude to the people present in the room.

I felt a buzz in my bones, almost at edge. No, I was certainly happy, not nervous in the least, but there was something different about the room. The bright lights, the expectant faces were new for me. No one had expected something as benign as a speech from me—ever.

Once, it had been expectations of fulfilled contracts, then the faces of young children trying to find a ray of hope. In between, there had been lonely human beings who did not share my idea of solitude. They wanted my company, wanted to know my story. I would jokingly tell them the truth, and they would laugh it away because who in this world would face such a strange yet movie-like turn of events in their life?

It was strange, indeed.

In my moment of reminiscence, I realized that I had stopped talking. The slight confusion in the crowd vanished when I began speaking about my topic with renewed vigor.

They seemed in awe with how well informed I was, and it was expected as none of them had ever been to the places, experienced firsthand as to what these children went through to gain a proper education. They had an impersonal look on education, while I wanted it to be the weapon that eradicated grief and poverty in the world. We came from different worlds.

The pleasure of helping someone with your own hands, feeding them and sharing stories of lost childhoods had been far more satisfying than hearing the click of the safety lock or the whizzing of the bullet through the air. Trigger happiness was nothing compared to the feeling of fulfillment that came with knowing that it was you that put a smile on someone\'s face.

My outlook on life had changed drastically, and I couldn\'t very well blame it on my own superhuman healing. It had more to do with numerous specialists who tried to make me talk, but one who actually was able to break through and guide me through the darkness. Her name was trivial as mine was to her, but she was a good listener. She asked me the weirdest questions, and if I didn\'t know better, I would think that she knew me better than anyone else on the planet.

Yes, she was my therapist. I wonder where I would have been without her help. Maybe, lying in a gutter somewhere because I was too bitter to let my past go, to keep away from Anthony, let go of my past... so many things. I might have even decided to kill myself, but I didn\'t. I worked through it all, and I was finally happy.