He was not good company in my despair.
But he was company and he was the only company I had.
I share that night with him.
Only him.

We were the only two that breathed oxygen from the air I screamed in.
The only two who felt the blows exchanged by fists.
We were the only two who shared that time and space.
No matter who and how many people I tell my story,
he will still be the only one who was actually there.

We are connected.
We are connected and I don't know how to free myself from these memories.
Free myself from this Hell.

I do not miss him. Nor do I miss myself as a victim.
I'm neither suffering nor melancholic.
Nothing pulls me back.
Nothing at all, except that I was whole.
Maybe I was a victim, but at least I was something.
Maybe it was painful, but at least I felt something.