The greatest victory one can have is to be the one who lived when the whole world wanted you dead.
They wanted me dead. Not all of them... but way too many to count. My coven cursed me with eternal life and pain that can't be soothed unless I hurt or help someone. Fellow witches decided I would be better off dead. Werewolves, humans...I have lost count of who and what wanted me dead.
I guess I should count myself in too. It happened, after a while, when solitude became overwhelming. I did want to die. I wanted to put an end to my misery but even at my lowest, even when I was crying my soul out, deep down I refused to die.
I refused to die.
I decided to live instead.
And now, hundreds of years later, I can see that it was the best that could have happened to me. I survived. I live.
Yes! I live.
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