You say I've forgotten how to fight back but you're wrong. I have every bit of rage I had as a child, every bit of spite and defiance. I just choose not to let it out, because, for the moment, that rage brings me closer to unsafety.
But you seemed to have lulled yourself into a false sense of security. You seem to think I'm beaten down now, a whimpering animal at the back of its cage.
I can still fight. I just have things I'd rather not drag into your meaningless battles. But if I'm pushed... If you take away what I have to lose... Oh, you'll regret it. You'll regret it.












