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As soon as I realized I was my only hope, I started to pull myself away from the numb haze of dissociation. It was time to orchestrate my own rescue. I was a survivor—I already proved that to myself countless times since the plane crash—and as auction day loomed on the horizon, I told myself I would not die in here.
It is in the breaking, we become whole again. It is through darkness, we find the stars. Somewhere between the soul and the self, we find what we’re made of.
Fuck. This.
This was going to happen whether or not I wanted it to. I could either make it traumatizing or healing. I realized that choice was as much power as I was going to get
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