You think all I can say is “thank you” for what you put me through.
> You think my voice begins and ends at your version of events, that I’d forget the rest.
> But here’s what I remember.

I remember every chore, every demand, every petty inspection, when nothing was ever enough.
I remember you turning my skills into nothing, telling me my only worth was to serve — no comfort, no joy, no peace.

I remember teaching my kids life skills, only for you to sabotage them and call it failure. I remember the infestation, the cramped rooms, the unsafe walls you knew were there before you brought us in.
I remember how every scrap of freedom I reached for — work, income, shelter — you blocked, twisted, or took for yourself. I remember the third parties you enlisted, the network of enforcers and opportunists who played their part like it was sport.
I remember being turned into a role, a function, a resource — never a person.

You engineered my reality so you could erase it later, so you could point and say, “See? She failed.” You fed on my survival, you made my victories feel unsafe, you wanted me small enough to carry and silent enough to own. And now you want me to be grateful — as if this was care.

No. I will not thank you.I will not carry your story.
I am telling mine, and it will live longer than the trap you built.



And that's the woman they FEAR HER...