Six months. Six months in a different place, a different world. Six months not knowing whether or not I would survive. Six months with almost nobody to have my back. Six months of my life gone in the blink of an eye. Six months with Risk.
Risk was the kind of person you’d find every blue moon, the kind of person you knew you couldn’t trust but you wanted to anyway. Risk was the kind of darkness that even the night didn’t want to face. Risk was the reason  I was where I was. He was the reason I died. Risk. Risk. Risk. Risk Destiny. He’s the man I will always hate. The man that left me when I was weak. The reason I who I am and who I don’t want to be.
I think it’s safe to say that any normal person would blame everything on him. I won’t. It’s not all his fault. How could it be? How could I blame him for my stupidity? He didn’t get me stuck in Milla. I got me stuck in Milla. Half of the problem started with me getting into the car with a stranger. I am very much aware of how stupid that sounds. A stranger? Haven’t they told us not to do that since grade school? Yea, I know. It was a lapse in judgment. A really stupid lapse in judgment. It could have gotten me killed… Well, technically it did get me killed.