It hurt, remembering. Hurt because there was so much I'd done, so much I'd yet to do. In so many different ways, I now realized, not remembering had been a blessing. A brief respite in the twisted bloody mess that my life had become.
But at least I knew who I was.

Autor: Keri Arthur

It hurt, remembering. Hurt because there was so much I'd done, so much I'd yet to do. In so many different ways, I now realized, <i>not</i> remembering had been a blessing. A brief respite in the twisted bloody mess that my life had become.<br />But at least I knew who I was. - Keri Arthur

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