No one makes it out of this world alive.
There is a bruise blossoming on my knee. I am in an empty locker room, I can smell the chlorine and hear the occasional splash, and there is a bruise blossoming on my knee.
No, not blossoming. Haunting. Wilting. Never fading. Like the one on my hip, and my heel, and my shoulder. These are no ordinary bruises. They've been here for more than three weeks now, and I keep waiting for them to disappear. I know they aren't going to, I know I should tell someone – I've been through this before.
But accepting the truth has never been my strong suit.