Four Score

Sixteen

Every day for six years, I used to pray that I would find my way back to the boy I loved.

Until finally, one day, I did.

But that’s the funny thing about life. Nothing good ever lasts, not for me, anyway. You think you’re the one with the power, at least I did, but then I got careless. One tiny mistake, and now I am powerless to stop what comes next.

People think money equals power, but all the money in my bank account, the dirty notes laundered clean that my father left for me, are useless.

Money does not equal power. Power is held by the one with the knife in his hand, tracing shallow cuts into your skin.

Power is held by the one who owns you.

I had power once.

Now, I have nothing.