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I'm Not My Story: A Poetic Journey of Healing

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Swamini B

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“The relevant question is not whether back then a few extraordinary individuals could overcome a system strongly weighted against them or whether today an admittedly far greater number requiring far less talent can succeed. The real question is whether it's harder for the people in this audience to succeed be they extraordinary, average, or below average. If it is, and I think it obvious that it is, then that's untenable in a country that purports to provide equal opportunity for all. Now of course you'll dispute my claim that it is more difficult to succeed for them. You say the battle's over. I say not only is it not over but you yourself are stationed on the frontline of the battle and have been all these years. This room and the criminal justice system as a whole is the frontline. This is where modern-day segregation lives on.”

“All of you. Why are you … being …” I struggled for the right word. “Nice?” “We’re courting you,” Andel said, like it was obvious, even though he was sitting there doing nothing. I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help myself. It bubbled through me in a wave of hysteria, persisting until my throat was raw. “You’ve blinded me,” I said, still chuckling, though I no longer sounded amused. “You’re dragging me, blind, through unforgivable terrain. You’re only allowing me one small meal a day. You ignore me most of the time, insult me the rest of the time, and threaten to kill me every now and then just for good measure. You lead me around by a chain like a dog. This isn’t courting. This is enslavement.”

“I killed her pets!” Vidrol exclaimed happily, while the others just stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. All of them except Helki, who just shook his head again. “Total psychopath,” he muttered. He raised his voice over the sound of Banshee screaming. “Could you maybe put that thing outside?” “He just died,” Vidrol defended. “Cut him some slack.” “He’s screaming because he hates you,” Helki corrected, following Vidrol outside. “Even more so now that you’ve killed him.”

“I think I need to add a sensor to her door,” Elijah added, striding off toward the fitness centre. They were already late for their scheduled practice time, so Gabriel followed with an agitated snap to each step. “That sounds like getting involved.” “Not if I hook it up to Oscar’s phone.” “That sounds downright danger—actually, that’s brilliant.” “I know.” “He’ll be so annoyed, and you know what happens when he gets annoyed.” “I know.”

“You guys know each other?” I held my breath, my chest tight. Could this be it? Cover blown so fast? Ted stared at me. After several moments he said, “Yeah.” Ah, crap. He breathed out a heavy sigh. “We dated for a short time. It, uh, didn’t end well.” "Didn’t end well?” Bill snorted. “You two went out in a hail of bullets.”

“A letter from the great-grandson.” He shakes his head sadly. “Sweet boy, but I don’t know how he’s going to make it through school with that name. Eustace .” “Maybe he’ll go by a nickname,” I offer, but Ernie isn’t going for it. “What sort of nickname? Eu? Stace?” He folds the letter and gingerly sets it on the coffee table in front of him. “Ah, well. His mother says she labored with him for two and a half days, so he deserves it.”