This isn't just a story. It's reality..my reality. A life I've lived, endured, and learned to survive. It takes place in Africa, a reality shared by many, but this is mine. The hardships, the pain, the moments that should never have happened ...they all belong to me.
I am dying slowly. Cancer is eating me from the inside out. My body is weak, my breaths come in shallow gasps, and every movement sends waves of pain through me. The machines beside my bed beep in a steady rhythm, a cruel reminder of time slipping away.
Today, I am about to meet the journalist who has finally made time for me. She doesn't know what she's walking into. She doesn't know the darkness she will uncover, the truths that have been buried for years. Yet she will hear it all, the story I've carried alone for far too long.
The room smells faintly of antiseptic, cold and sterile, but beneath it is the lingering scent of my own fear, and the memories that refuse to leave me. The sunlight filters through the blinds in harsh lines, cutting across the hospital walls like the edges of a knife.
This is not for the faint of heart.