In the dark you could feel the presence of someone looking over you, watching your every move and hidden away into the shadows. Those however are just stereotypes. The dark for me was a place of comfort and idleness. It calmed my mind and made me reflect and concentrate on some absurd things, some very absurd things.

Occasionally and involuntarily, when I close my eyes in the dark, I could see things, memories of an untold story, its like my mind wanted to tell me something, something I wasn't aware of, something that had a whole new perspective to it. It all started on my 13th birthday, when I fainted out of exhaustion as I fell down shallow hill from the party point. I was saved by God's grace but, these thoughts started occurring in the dark, at night when I was locked away in a room all alone.

I was a weird seventeen year old who lived with abusive parents who were the richest people of the country and to whom the government was held subordinate to. They boss over me and swat me with a horse stick if I failed to do a good job or anything they expected me to ace at. I remember the tormented days of my child hood, covered in bruises, locked into the dark without dinner. It felt like I was trained to like the dark. It gave me solitude and freedom of speech and expression. I could fade into the dark without being judged and being fit into a box of "society standards".

My life took a huge turn on the day they told me I was adopted since they couldn't bear a heir for taking over their business. They spilled the beans in anger, I wasn't one to keep quiet. I fought back and almost gave my so called 'dad' a concussion. Of course they locked me in the room, in the dark as expected, but I decided I wasn't gonna bow down to them that easily. There was a window in the room through which I crawled out of and escaped. It was a temporary thought, they were my parents after all... my legal parents. I found a dark alleyway, where I was sure no one would recognize me. Heck! I hadn't been out of that rich ass hellhole for 3 years. I was tired of acting like someone I'm not. I was never interested in those pretty pink dresses and sparkling glitter glimmer. Make-up was a big no-no. I had to pretend like some slut-looking brat for half of my life. No one could see the tears behind my fake ass face. My phony, flashy, bright set of perfectly arranged teeth which stretch into a smile that seemed forced to no one. The real me was unknown and forgotten. No one saw me in my real form, I didn't think anyone could hear the silent crying with tears rolling down my face in that alley, so peaceful and calm. 'CRASH!' I heard some noise.... I wondered where it came from.