Chapter 1. - I am a survivor Dear Reader, please do not try find logic in these words, they just may not make any sense. It has been many years since I tried to write anything, since I tried to tell something. At time, I needed someone to listen, to understand, and support me. Today, I do not need anything, maybe expect of letting those words out, getting a perspective perhaps. I no longer hope for truth. Truth had been lost. Forever. Believe me or not, it is up to you and beyond me. I no longer care. It was summer 2009, although some things go way further in the past, but summer 2009 was the most important. I had a very hard time at school back then. After being so sick I spent many months at home and had to work very hard to catch up. That year my mom was not getting any worse, and she was not getting any better either. I think she went to hospital twice. She is a schizophrenic, and something else, although she has no paper for that one. She is a monster. A tiny one, a loud one. She is like a little hairy creature, with big green eyes, more tired than hateful, except her mouth. She has a very big mouth, much bigger than it is okay in relation to her body. Her small, yellow teeth are very, very sharp. Her screams are more powerful than ones of banshee. When she screams her body grows till she is as big as the giants living in my dreams. I think that year it was really affecting me, all that. The tiny monster screaming. My dad was never around and he is not important. I did not need a dad when I had him. He was my mother' s brother. I was convinced that he was adopted. They were like to sides of the same coin. Dark and light. He was my best friend. Remember him, because he plays a very important role in this story. That summer, I was seventeen years old. Tired and unhappy. I missed school, I missed my theater club and I missed art. I spent my time watching Cold Case and overidentifying myself with Lilly Rush. Oh boy, we did have a lot in common. Her mom was a monster too. My mom refused to let me go camping with my friends. I was too embarassed to admit that, and my friends and I had a huge fight. Of course they went without me, as I had not weapons of resistance or intependence towards my mother. So I texted him, my best friend, my uncle. Petter the rabbit. I told him I missed him. I told him about fight. I told him I cannot wait for him to come. 'everything will be fine', He said. He was wrong. Nothing was okay. He worked in a different country from where I lived. Country of similar language and customs, He came home twice a year. For Christmas and my birthday, always with presents. He lived with his mother in a two room flat. We used to share a sofa when he was home. We talked and wathed movies till very late night. We ate snacks. He listned and never judged me. He understood. I am sure by now you all know where I am heading with all this. We heard that story plenty of times before, there is nothing original about it. I am not saying those words now, not just yet. My first counsellor told me that I am not ready for them, my second that I do not have to tell them. Of course I do. For now, I am a survivor. No more, no less. Because I am still here. Wounded and scarred, but alive and doing ok. I am no writer, but I need to write. I am not lost, but I do need to find my path, courage. Truth. There are things in my past, that are very confusing, and I am very unsure of them. I want to know the truth, although there is not way of knowing. Half of me carries those words inside, the other half refuses to admit them. Both are too stuck and ashamed to let them out. See? So many words, no wonder they need to get out. Words are little monsters too. They can hurt you a great deal and they sneak through the smallest cracks. They stay long after they had been let out. They bite their way through your soul and sometimes, they eat you alive. They have been eating me for almost seven years now. Survivor. I am sure you know where I am heading. This is not a new storz, we all hea