My life was vicious, but don't feel sorry for me. I wasn't always the victim; in fact, I left a few victims of my own.
I had to. It's called survival, and I couldn't survive if I was weak. I'll tell you my story, but I warn you now, it's not pretty. I came from a family made up of killers, liars, and thieves.
Remorse isn't in our vocabulary.
I've seen so much horror, pain and heartbreak I've become numb to its presence. Nevertheless, who I am is not nearly as important as how I got this way and If I go down, I'm taking some of them with me.