And so there I was, in a police station, surrounded by people asking questions when I had questions of my own, but did they matter, no. They asked about "him" and the victim but all I could think was " I am the victim". How is it that anyone could get over seeing that ? It was strange having that much attention for someone else wrong doings but what could I have done ? I told them what I saw, what I did but the questions kept pouring in and I was helpless to stop them.
At home with my parents at last, I was given a cup of tea and went to bed with my entire being shaken to its very core. Trying to sleep was pointless and yet the questions wouldn't stop, why would someone do that ? who could do something like that ? these were just some questions I couldn't answer but the moment my head hit the pillow the darkness swallowed me and nothing else mattered other than one thing, the final thought to hit my innocent mind before the my mind and eyes were truly opened to the hatred and pain of this suffering world I had grown up in. "How do I get even with that son-of-a-bitch" ?